Wrapper: Ecuadorian Connecticut
Binder: Mexican (Matacapan Negro de Temporal)
Filler: Nicaraguan (Condega C-SG, Pueblo Nuevo Criollo, Estelí C-98 & Estelí Hybrid Ligero)
Size: 5.25 x 52 Robusto
Today we take a look at the Sobremesa Brûlée.
Yes, I know I’m the last guy on earth to review this cigar and I know you’ve all smoked your share. But I’m greasing the wheels here…been on hiatus for two months and still working on my bob and weave.
And because it’s Sunday. Got nothing to do until the Packers at 3:30. Not interested in the morning game of Dallas (6-9) and the Giants (5-10). So here I am.
I am going to release a top 25 cigar list end of January. Most smokers should know that some of it is new stuff and some is old stuff. And it makes me pick the ones I liked the best. I have nothing else to do….pandemic stuff. I’m going mad, I tell you, mad! Saw the original The Producers on TV today. Springtime for Hitler gets me every time. And Kenneth Mars…
OK, carry on…
Release Date: August 2019
Factory: Fabrica de Tabacos Joya de Nicaragua S.A.
From Cigar Dojo (8-21-2019):
“The Sobremesa Brûlée is so very different from any cigar that Saka has ever blended. Steve said, in his own words, “Sobremesa Brûlée is a recreation of the milder, shade wrapped ligas of my early years.” The Brûlée is not supposed to be like the amped-up Connie’s we’ve seen in the market over the last few years. Instead, it’s a throwback to your “grandfather’s Connecticut.”
“The tobaccos chosen for this blend are very interesting. Essentially, Steve has taken the same blend used for the original Sobremesa cigar and tweaked it, resulting in a milder expression that better compliments the blend’s new Connecticut Shade-grown wrapper.”
I read a bunch of reviews online. Oddly, the reactions to this cigar were quite mixed; varying from the seriously disappointed to highly elated. This just goes to show you, that as reviewers, we are useless. Again, one man’s opinion.
SIZES AND PRICING:
Robusto: 5.25 × 52 $12.45
Toro: 6 x 52 $13.45
Gordo: 6.25 x 60 $13.95
The cigar seems nicely constructed but I find various soft spots and hard spots. I’ve had the samples for 8-9 months.
Fancy schmancy…a quadruple cap! Gloriosky, Bullwinkle.
The wrapper oozes oil and sheen from the golden leaf that lends its colors to butterscotch, caramel, and butter. And its high polished glass smooth.
There are no seams visible and only the most minor of veins in attendance.
SMELL THE GLOVE:
White pepper, caramel, milk chocolate, creaminess, malt, cedar, barnyard. Cinnamon graham cracker, melted unsalted butter, and black raisins. Nice.
The cold draw presents flavors of buttered popcorn, caramel, butterscotch, creaminess, white pepper, milk chocolate, nuts, cedar, and a slight touch of citrus.
The draw is absolutely perfect; hence I can put away my PerfecDraw draw adjustment tool for another time.
And we start with music from Etta James, “I’d Rather Go Blind.” Timeless. (1968).
The cigar begins simply…a bit of white pepper, creaminess, lemon curd, buttery, and a little milk chocolate.
The blend already shows potential with 1/8” burned. I can taste complexity chomping at the bit. Strength is an immediate medium.
I’ve smoked this cigar with only a couple months on it. 8-9 months or longer beats that. Big difference. This cigar was meant to be humidor aged. Full benefits…no squatting without a permit.
The finish is tasty with the aforementioned palate teasers. It hangs in mid air above my palate (That’s the piece of flesh that hides behind your uvula…or is it ovum? Not sure).
So far, the perfect morning cigar. Relaxed and laid back. Like me when I’m not awake.
The creaminess and lemon tincture work in tandem. A vision of homemade whipped cream is visualized in my parietal lobes. These are the things hanging beneath your ears.
Did you know that your ears never stop growing? You must have noticed really old people that look like Dumbo. So far, my ears haven’t begun this process. I still look normal; OK…I don’t have big ears yet. But my nut sack hangs around my ankles.
This is a delightful Connie and I don’t like Connies that much. Although, to be fair, I do prefer the Ecuadorian to the U.S. version.
Gregg Allman…”Rendezvous with the Blues.” I’m bopping my head and my stiff as a board body is swaying to the rhythm.
Transitions are minimal at this point. The flavor profile hovers around what I’ve already described. Sort of all wrapped in a tight package with a bow. Or a whip and a red ball mouthpiece.
You’ll never get this experience if you buy a stick in a cigar lounge and smoke it right out of the wrapper. Night and day. The difference between blunt force trauma and hot sex with an escort you can’t afford. Age, age, age.
First sip of water and a rush of vanilla wafers, caramel, cashews, and creaminess.
The burn is exemplary. Poifect.
The creamy caramel seems to run herd over the other flavor components. An umbrella while the other elements cavort.
Have you cavorted lately? Exactly what is cavorting? Is it just having an openly good time? Or is it sitting in a dark corner and masturbating like a spider monkey for hours? I can go either way.
Not only is this a good morning cigar, but it can also be a great dessert cigar. Although, I find eating food before a cigar tends to mute the flavors of the stick; hence, I do my reviews in the morning on an empty stomach. I do rinse my mouth with hydrogen peroxide to rid my giant maw of bacteria and germs. Yes, I have a fresh mouth.
A slight crack was visible in my first photo. It is now spreading. I will need my PerfecRepair cigar glue to repair it.
I used the brush in my PerfecRepair cigar glue to cover the crack. It takes a few minutes to harden. It’s tasteless. And saves the cigar from the crack spreading.
5 minutes later, the cigar is good to go.
The flavor profile engages warp drive. Everything is potent. There is a cinnamon bun at play. Creaminess, milk chocolate, malt, white pepper, lemon, buttery, caramel and butterscotch, cedar, some assorted nuts, and those black raisins.
The strength is upped a bit.
The complexity is now getting down and dirty. Transitions flow. The finish is peppery with a lemon crème pie in place. The cinnamon bun keeps sticking its nose in the mix.
Subtleties and nuances begin dueling banjos. Little bits of flotsam and jetsam are streaming around my palate; unidentifiable as they merely add to the character of the blend. But good unidentifiable.
Curiously, I get a carraway seed component entering stage left. It continues until it tastes like toasted and buttered Jewish rye bread…with a little schmear of blackberry jam.
I can now assume that the reviews that were not so kind, were merely reviewed before the cigar was ready. Plain and simple. And I do a quick check and my assumption is verified. The average wait between acquisition of the cigar to its review is 2 months. The cigar was not given a fair shot in these cases. This cigar loves to wade in the deep end on a sunny afternoon with no intent of leaving. You gotta respect the will of the blend, and the blender. This stick shines when given respect.
A sip of water soothes the savage breast. The small subtleties come alive in the form of vanilla bean, sourdough, café au lait, dark cocoa, cedar, and globs of butter…with a lemon twist.
Smooth. Balanced. Savory v. sweet holding hands on the yellow brick road. Complex as hell. Transitions that imitate a carousel. The finish just lingers forever. Lovely.
This cigar is exactly what you should expect for $12. It is well thought out. It was meticulously designed. And carried out under watchful eyes.
The white pepper morphs into a slighter version of black pepper. Just enough to give the blend some kick while not becoming overwhelming.
The caramel really stands out now. And the touch of nuttiness compliments the gooey sweetness perfectly. We have a candy bar. But what about the savory portions you ask? There is a nicely charred oakiness, a mild vegetal element, a tender meatiness that reminds me of smoked whitefish, and a tobacco leaf influence that will not be ignored.
While it seems like I’ve described a flavor bomb, it isn’t one. The flavors are bold one moment and then acquiesce to an onslaught of mild tidbits that attack my palate like the Light Brigade. The back and forth is tantalizing and a wonderful tease that keeps my attention upright and alert.
Have I used the word fuck once yet? Don’t think so.
CCR. “Lodi.” Fucking great.
Back in 1969, after I’d finished my exhausting college homework, I’d light one up, grab my guitar, and sing “Lodi” until my father downstairs yelled,
“Shut up you bastard!” It was the first time I had learned I was born out of wedlock.
I spoke to Dr. Rod the other day. He is recovering from a botched penile implant surgery. Until the swelling goes down, he doesn’t know if he has a bigger dick or a small vagina. The waiting is killing him.
Strength has maintained an even strain. A nice medium that causes no hallucinations.
The Sobremesa Brûlée is heavy with big and small notes of influence. It grants all of my wishes…OK. Not all.
Just a perfect balance. The scales of justice smile down approvingly.
Aretha Franklin. “Chain of Fools.” I loved playing this song. Great bassline.
The cigar reaches its pinnacle. It is overflowing with redemption. The flavors slap me in the puss over and over. It will not accept anything but your full attention.
I’m not going to list the flavors because I’ve done that. But everyone is out in force grabbing for the ring. A frontal assault to my palate and brain. My brain fails before my palate does.
I know you’ve all smoked one. But get some more and put them naked in your humidor for 9 months and just forget about them. Then come back and read my review. I’ll wait.
Has your iPhone ever started screaming obscenities at you while it is just lying there?
I’m in a state of tobacco bliss. Everything is limp on my body. Everything. What a great blend.
This stick is making my top 25 list.
The cigar is on cruise control. Nothing to dissect at this time. Magic carpet ride…without the shrooms.
As the cigar looks for its way out, not a lick of harshness or bitterness. And only a hint of nicotine.
I stick it out til it is on a clip.
Well done, Mr. Saka.
And now for something completely different:
Here is a story I told back in June of 2014. Music in the background reminded me. “Take the Money and Run” by the Steve Miller Band.
I was living, and working, in Phoenix during the 1990’s. I got this horrible project to run that was residential. The biggest home in Arizona up in the hills north of Scottsdale. The guy that owned it had a famous boat company: Sea Ray. And sold it for a gazillion dollars.
He was spending something in the neighborhood of $100 million for this project. That’s 1995 dollars.
The road to the top of the hill where the main house was cost $20 million to build. It had a caretaker’s house at the bottom. And it had a housekeeper’s house about halfway up.
His house was on top of this hill that he bought. I don’t know how many acres it was, but the land alone cost him around $30 million.
His house was perfectly round. All the rooms on the exterior walls were pie cut shaped. With a huge circular living room, kitchen, etc. in the middle.
His garage was also a circle and big enough that you could drive a car into it and come out of it facing the right direction to leave the house. Must have been 150 feet in diameter.
I wish I could remember the guy’s name, but I can’t.
I was in the Todd Hart Band Blues Trio at the time and for Christmas he bought me a beautiful leather jacket with the band’s logo on it.
Todd on guitar, the drummer, and me on the far right in the background playing my Dobro electric upright bass like a guitar:
I remember I had a meeting with the owner, architect, construction manager, and the structural engineer one morning at the site.
The owner saw my jacket and inquired. He asked me if I knew Steve Miller? I laughed and said no.
He said that Steve was staying at his house in Paradise Valley…an old, very upscale part of Phoenix. Same place that Alice Cooper lives.
I should add that the owner of the company I worked for was there as well. He was my age. A real prick. Cheated on his wife openly with some buck toothed chick that worked in the office eventually leading to a divorce. And his wife getting half the business. She was a class act and such a nice lady. Why this douche bag continued to cheat on her is beyond me. Especially, with a long line of dogs he chose to poke.
So, the owner says to me that Miller is quite the guitar player. I nodded. He then took out his cell phone and made a call.
He hung up and asked if I wanted to stop by his house and meet Miller when business was done? Before I could answer, Brad said “YES!”
We meet Miller and he was as gracious as all get out. He actually had set up a little recording studio in one of the large rooms in the house. I was introduced and gave him my background for my 15 minutes (actually 12 years) in the music business.
Then he asked if I wanted to lay down some bass lines or just jam?
I told him that I didn’t have my gear with me. He laughed as he pointed to about 6 different basses in their stands. All were collector’s items and I picked the 1958 Fender Precision. It felt like I had owned it forever. While in England, I bought Wishbone Ash’s Martin Turner’s 1968 Fender P bass. Same feel.
My boss was impressed with me for the first time. Then, a few people I didn’t know came into the room. One was a drummer.
I was freaking out. I didn’t know any of his songs. Miller graciously suggested we start with a blues improv. You know…1-4-5?
We played for an hour on one tune and took it everywhere. Miller and I and the drummer were having such a good time that time lost its value.
Miller invited me to stay all day and asked if I could lay down some bass lines on stuff he was working on.
And my prick boss said we had to get back to the office. My jaw dropped. How could he do this to me? Fuck nuts!
We all glad handed each other and Brad and I left in his new Corvette. I didn’t say a word to him the whole 45 minutes back to the office.
We get back and Brad goes on and on about what happened. But forgets to mention how Miller and I bonded and how much he liked my playing. This guy was an egomaniacal narcissist and couldn’t stand to not be the center of attention.
Of course, the truth came out during the day as I was pounded for more info. Brad always liked to leave early in the day to go fuck his sweeties.
So, all work stopped and I told the story of Miller and I playing together.
I got some serious street cred from that incident in the office. Maybe 30 people.
I never saw Steve Miller again. But a week later, I met with the house owner and he told me how much Miller appreciated me being there because he had recorded the whole jam and it gave him some ideas for new compositions.
I really thought Miller would contact me again to use me but alas, never did.
Oh well…It was a fun experience. Something to write about.
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS