Size: 5 x 52 Robusto
Today we take a look at the new Patina Maduro.
I bought a fiver 4 weeks ago. I have smoked one stick prior to this review.
From Halfwheel.com (4-13-2020)
“Brand owner Mo Maali announced the release of the Patina Maduro on Monday, and while he isn’t discussing the blend, he did say that the line is being made at the Nicaragua American Cigars S.A. (NACSA) factory in Estelí, Nicaragua.
“With the addition of the Maduro to the Patina portfolio, we now have three dynamic offerings that cover all consumer profiles,” Maali said in a press release. “Similar to how we challenged existing perceptions with our Connecticut and Habano offerings respectively, the Patina Maduro challenges conventional expectations of a maduro cigar with a beautiful mix of balance, flavor, and strength.”
SIZES AND PRICING:
Rustic 5 x 52 $10.95
Oxidation 6 x 56 $13.95
I love the look of this cigar. The transitions of color are amazing. It oozes oil like it’s been dipped in 10-40. The toothiness is pronounced. Yeah, seams are exposed…and there is some veinage that interrupts the flow of the cigar; but it adds character. A beautifully applied triple cap…and the cigar lays heavy in the hand. Maybe too heavy as this cigar is hard as a rock. Same thing with my first one. It needed a good working over with my PerfecDraw draw adjustment tool to get any draw at all.
I rarely comment on the cigar band because it makes no matter to me…unless it is festooned with skulls. I hate that. The skull explosion over the last few years is ridiculous. If I was 14, I would think it is so cool…but do grown men really need this?
SMELL THE GLOVE:
Lots going on here: Big fat amounts of floral, caramel, mint, chocolate, espresso, baking spices, nuts, cinnamon graham crackers, cedar, and barnyard.
I need to use my PerfecDraw on this baby too before I go for the cold draw experience.
It takes two deep throated injections of the tool to clear the plugs. The cigar is just jam packed.
The cold draw exhibits flavors of black pepper, chocolate, baking spices, nuts, caramel, cedar, and barnyard.
Big flavors upfront. Black coffee, milk chocolate, heavy on the black pepper, vanilla bean, caramel, cedar, raw cashews, cumin, barnyard, and Cheerios. That was from just one puff. Wow.
Complexity jumps in immediately. The balance is on point in this early juncture. Transitions begin. The finish is pepper and cream.
Creaminess shows up on my palate. The balance begins with a bang.
I’ve been watching Tyler Jeffery on FB tout these cigars for a month. I asked how long humi time they needed, and he said 5-7 days. I waited a month to be sure. He was probably right. I know nothing about this blend as the PR says nothing. It tastes like finely aged tobacco that’s been sleeping for a while.
An $11 cigar that sweeps the floor with the recently reviewed $29 Cohiba Royale.
Dudes, this is a delicious cigar with only 3/8” smoked. I cannot conceive of where it is going and how it is going to get there. This cigar will make up for all the recent bummer reviews I’ve done.
The complexity digs deeper. I like a spicy meat-a-ball but it hovers just above the place I’d like it to be. With some respectful humi time, I’m sure this will mellow out.
I’m getting all sorts of nuances…oregano, basil, black licorice, tart kiwi, and a heavy meatiness. Makes me hungry.
The burn is spectacular. Sharp as a razor.
I am so glad I chose this baby to review this morning. I’ve had so much anxiety about the crash and burn reviews I’ve done lately. I just can’t do another one for a while. Seriously, it ruins my day.
Too bad it only comes in two sizes. I’d love to see it in Corona Gorda or a Toro. It was serendipitous that I chose the Robusto instead of the big ol’ 6 x 56. I doubt the larger cigar would have been ready this quickly. So, for you fellas that hate to wait, like me, this is a no brainer.
If the cigar continues on this path, I will be considering it for one of the best cigars of 2020.
It is a slow roll because it is packed like a bratwurst. Makes me happy. This is a cigar you want to last, and savor.
The flavor profile makes no sudden moves. But it’s still early. I look forward to the second half.
The creaminess and the chocolate combine to make a perfect mousse with homemade whipped cream. And then it’s gone as it moves on to the long series of transitions.
A sip of water and my cheeks collapse…just like when I was in Quentin.
Flavor explosion. My brain skips a beat and a big stupid smile appears.
All those weeks, while I was sick with Covid, cleaned up my palate. I can taste everything and then some. Probably why I was so brutal on previous cigars.
The first third ends.
Manna from the gods. The complexity heightens. Transitions are going nuts. The finish is delightful.
The spiciness calms down opening the door for the subtleties to expose themselves.
When you snag a few of these, no worries about catching all the flavor components. This is truly an example of the whole being more impressive than its parts. My mouth is a party and the cops have been called.
I love the blues. I started playing in blues bands in the late 80’s. And it became my way of life. I’ve been so fortunate to play with so many great players. Yes, I’m listening to an array of tunes right now and I can’t keep from swaying the way Ray Charles did at his Fender Rhodes.
Oh right…the strength…it’s been at medium/full. I expect it to knock me for a loop in the last third. I will see God in a vision and God will be a Twinkie. I only said that because I stopped eating sugar in 1980. That ruled out ever eating a Twinkie ever again. I miss those little cockroaches.
I wouldn’t be surprised that my sugarless life helped a bit in staying alive and not croaking when I was so sick for a month. You know they have been able to make just about anything sugarless these days…except for the Twinkie and doughnuts. 40 years since I’ve tasted a doughnut. I’m jonesing hard. Occasionally, Charlotte will eat a doughnut and I French kiss her immediately after.
There is a perfect balance of savory v. sweet.
Some fruit appears…baked apple, dates, and raisins.
The chocolate and the creaminess don’t give up the ghost. They are in perfect tandem during this entire adventure. The espresso gives it a slight touch of bitterness that works flawlessly with the other flavors.
Any time the spiciness diminishes in a blend, the little flavors come out to play. Normally, they are squashed by heavy pepper. Small notes of melon, steak sauce, cinnamon, and BBQ.
I have now hit full tilt on the strength as my vision becomes blurry. That is the downside from taking a long break from smoking. I’m even more susceptible to nicotine.
Sip of water and once again, my cheeks collapse from flavor overload.
I don’t taste earth, wind, and leather.
I taste phenomenally aged tobacco. It is rich and earthy…OK, so one out of three ain’t so bad.
The richness of the blend is mind blowing. I am the Patina Maduro. I am the ball.
Now this cigar may be too much for newbies. The strength continues to become more intense. I put my readers on so I can see the laptop screen. The blend coats my soul in colors and beatification.
I’m nearing the halfway point. I may need to be revived in the last third with a defibrillator. I’ve been well for almost 10 days. And this is the first really strong cigar I’ve smoked. I can feel it. I’m giddy and dizzy…I may need to walk it off.
And now I’m paralyzed. Great cigar.
The complex nature of this blend is so powerful that my mind spins. My palate is doing the Mashed Potato.
It dawns on me I still have half a cigar to go. Will I survive? I don’t believe it is the nicotine doing this to me. I wish Mo Maali disclosed the leaf stats. There must be a ton of Ligero in this blend.
Creaminess makes a quantum leap. The spiciness returns two-fold. I will need to lay down after this. But I love it. This is a rare experience in cigar smoking. Patina could have charged much more than $11 for this blend. I love a boutique brand that doesn’t take advantage of its customer base. Of course, giving them a brain aneurysm may lessen the customer base as well.
This is going to be at least a 90-minute smoke. The 6 x 56 will take hours. There is no way I could have reviewed that size. I love hearty blends, but the strength is incredible.
You must be a connoisseur to venture into this blend. Of course, if you smoke regularly each day, and don’t get sidelined by Covid, you should be OK.
I’m at the point that I no longer care about the flavors. The experience is the thing.
And the moment I finish the last sentence, flavors explode making this a true flavor bomb. Haven’t had one of these in a while.
I feel like I’m sitting in the front row of the Cinerama Dome in Hollywood seeing the film “2001: A Space Odyssey” during the last scene when it gets psychedelic. I saw that film several times when it came out. Hippies always ran to the front rows.
This is a perfect cigar for my palate. Yeah, I’m wussing out due to strength; but that can be overlooked due to my time off. I’m not saying it’s the best cigar in the world…but this is perfection incarnate.
I can’t wait to read other reviewer’s opinions.
I’m now at a point with this cigar that will test my manhood.
I reviewed the Habano in 2018 and it got a 93. As good as that cigar was, the Maduro is better.
I got through the entire review without saying fuck.
There must be a word to describe passing full strength…I pick ‘unbent.’
Flavors return in force. In the midst of my hallucinations, I can taste every single component I’ve described…but with an intensity that goes beyond satisfying.
I’ve always had a thing for great drummers. Being a bass player will do that. I’m listening to The Fabulous Thunderbirds. My old high school buddy, and bandmate, Stephen Hodges played with this band for a while. He now tours with Mavis Staples.
Flavor bomb does not do justice to what my palate is experiencing.
This has been one of the most extraordinary and impassioned blends I’ve ever smoked.
If I had Dr. Rod’s money, I’d buy a box. But for now, another fiver will do nicely.
With an inch to go, I’ve spent two hours on this cigar.
If you don’t buy this cigar, you’re all out of my will.
And now for something completely different:
I first published this story a while back. It is an inappropriate anecdote. But you know what? I don’t care and let me tell you why. For some reason, Sonja Kristina of Curved Air became the person who made disbursements of royalties for the 20+ albums they recorded. I have been on several including live albums, studio albums, compilation albums, and a “Best of” series of records.
I’ve been screwed out of my mechanical royalties by Kristina for decades and not received what I’m owed. The records still sell. You can go to Amazon or CD Baby or anywhere that albums are sold. The 1975 “Live” album is one of their best sellers.
So, this woman has taken it upon herself to cheat and rob me of my contractual royalties. I got no blowback from the first time I published this story. And believe me when I tell you the band; past and present, all know about these stories. I know people close to the band that have confirmed this.
The reason that they don’t do a thing to try and stop me from publishing less than stellar stories about their, and my, behavior from back in the day is that my stories are all 100% true. I would love for the Curved Air system to sue me. I could use the publicity.
I had to have sex with that woman to keep my job.
Wham, bam, thank you ma’am. No. Not the sex. My initiation into the legendary Brit band Curved Air. Started in 1970 and still going strong and touring some 20+ albums later. Of course, CA has become the Steppenwolf or Iron Butterfly of British rock. While Sonja Kristina is the core of the band, more musicians have gone through that band than shit goes through a goose.
1974 – The original band got together to make good on a record deal agreement with Decca Records and the path of least resistance was a Live Album.
They hadn’t played together in 2 years. And they had gone through 16 bassists…or something like that…one even disappeared through spontaneous combustion…there was no shortage of previous bassists to choose from for the new European tour.
I was playing in CA violinist and leader Darryl Way’s band at the time when the decision was made to do a one-off Curved Air tour of 8 weeks and record a live album.
Way told me at rehearsal, “Kohn. You will be the bass player.”
Simple as that. I hadn’t even met the original CA members yet and I had the gig.
I learned quickly just how famous they were in Europe. Big time. The band sold out all their concerts for that tour. Arenas and concert halls holding 20,000 or more CA fans.
Sonja was a recovering junkie. And it was put upon me, as the new guy, to watch over her on the tour. I had no idea what it meant at the time. I was just glad to be there. I was 24. A month earlier, I had 5 Pounds Sterling left in my pocket and thought I’d be stranded in England with my girlfriend and her little girl.
We rehearsed for a week in Covent Garden and off we went. This was a group of highly trained classical musicians playing very complex progressive rock. I had to study my ass off for the concert set. We played the exact same songs in the same exact order for the entire tour. Luckily, I didn’t have to learn the entire CA catalog…in case some improvisation on the set list took place.
Management put me in the same hotel room with Sonja for the tour. I was bedazzled.
She was a junkie. And it became clear, I was to be her babysitter.
In the original production of the musical “Hair” in London, Sonja had a big part. During the nude scene where actors came out holding a giant parachute over themselves, she would run around the inside and jerk on all the guys’ dicks to give them boners so they would look ridiculous when they discarded the parachute for the audience. Yeah.
In those days, Brits…or Europeans in general, didn’t bathe that often. I bathed every day and the band made fun of me. They literally did their bathing on Saturdays…once a week. You can only imagine the smell of the inside of the touring limo. Oy vey.
The first night in our hotel room, she jumped me. She was so skinny from, being a junkie, that her bones made me feel like I was getting beaten up.
My pubic bone became red as a beet as she sat on top of me and pounded away. I would limp for days until I told her to stop doing that.
It’s not that she didn’t bathe…she never cleaned herself between weekly showers. Her quedgie had a high level of stank with gnats flying around it.
Once, early on, I came close to sticking my face down ‘there’ but the smell was so bad that I never got closer than a foot away before my face involuntarily repelled itself.
“What’s wrong, honey? Don’t Jews like eating pussy?”
Afraid to tell her the truth, I just nodded in agreement. Small price to pay for a part in the big show.
I said nothing, worrying about my place in the band. If she started spreading bad shit about me, I could be gone instantly. A stinky woman scorned.
So, for two months, I had to mount her about 3-4 times per week. Only broken up by the BJ’s she gave the band while touring in the limo between gigs.
She actually performed that act very nicely. Very nicely.
We stayed in the best hotels. Until the road manager fucked up and stuck us in a bedsitter: No bathroom. Only a sink.
I yelled at her when she got up after sex and mounted the sink and peed into it. I leaped up and turned the spigot on, so it at least went down the drain.
I screamed that I had to use that sink. (I refused and used one of the other rooms to clean up.) I never told anyone why.
Towards the end of the tour, she and Stewart Copeland…the drummer in the new Darryl Way band hooked up. Boyfriend and girlfriend. But she continued to fuck me. Neither cared. This was fucking weird.
They were married for a long time but she was his elder and as Stew got older, he grew tired of her. And she got very plus sized.
He was a star now because of his position in The Police and moved on. Turned out he was a real prick towards his two sons. Sonja had custody and every time Stew was scheduled to visit, he called at the last minute, to bail. This infuriated Sonja.
He also stiffed her a lot on child support.
I learned a few months ago from my contacts with management in London that one of the grown boys had serious cancer. Sonja put CA back together a few years ago with only one original member of the band.
The only time that band had any spunk was when I was playing bass or Tony Reeves played bass in the band…and the band has been around since 1970!
So, while they are all over YouTube with the new CA playing live, the band sucks. Everyone is a side man and there have been countless changes to the members of the band. And Sonja just keeps on getting bigger. Francis Monkman (Original keys player) told me they called her Mama Cass.
During her weaning off period from drugs, I must have saved her from committing suicide a dozen times. And I couldn’t tell the rest of the band or they would have quit.
Two years later, she was the first one to tell me I was fired from the band…on the phone.
Sonja then and….
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS