Size: 6 x 50 Toro
They’re all gone. But here is a review that will make you wish you were quicker on the draw…or a review that puts your mind at ease that you didn’t miss nuttin’ honey.
Now I have mixed feelings about the cigars that Rojas blends in his own name. Yet, if you click here, you will see an avalanche of cigar reviews in which the different brands/blends hired Rojas to help design their cigar. And I loved every single one…from Ezra Zion to Stolen Throne. I reviewed the Rojas Statement Habano in September 2019 and didn’t like it one bit.
So, I’ve smoked one stick, but it was on a crispy palate and it was just OK. My fiver has been resting for 2 months…should be enough time to get the idea.
Released: March 19, 2021
Factory: Tabacalera Flor de San Luis (Nicaragua)
This is a new line from Noel Rojas that will include 3 different blends. The first is the Barbacoa. Named for the practice of cooking sheep and goats over an open fire…hence the American word, Barbecue. I’m pretty sure the animals were skinned and prepared as opposed to being religious sacrifices that taste good.
SIZES AND PRICING:
Robusto 5 × 50 $8.50
Toro 6 × 50 $8.00
Short Corona 5.5 × 46 $7.50
The stick feels good. A little hard in spots but nothing to really kvetch about. In room light, the wrapper is an oily, coffee brown with a touch of tooth. In bright light, the copper comes out, along with a nice mottling, and shines like an oil spill. Seams are visible but tight. Lots of veinage. A nicely applied triple cap. It feels adequately filled. Not lumpy and bumpy one bit…otherwise, I’d be verklempt.
SMELL THE GLOVE:
The floral notes and dark chocolate come out swinging. Black raisins, black licorice, caramel, vanilla creaminess, cedar, barnyard, red pepper, and some curry notes.
The cold draw presents flavors of rich black licorice, barnyard, espresso, red pepper, chocolate, raisins, cedar, tomato sauce, and yellow matter custard.
The draw is right on so my PerfecDraw remains in its case.
I turn on Pandora and the first song is by Fleetwood Mac. A bad omen.
A crispy palate is a bad time to smoke a cigar. That’s what I did with the first Street Tacos stick. This morning’s start is fresh and delightful, like a brand-new tampon.
I get a blast of an appealing sense of complexity filled with flavors of red pepper, creaminess, very meaty(don’t know if it’s goat or sheep), a rich tobacco embrace, cinnamon, vanilla bean, cedar, and tomato sauce. Great start.
I mean this dudes…the first cigar on a clean palate is the best one of the day. After you’ve stuffed your gullet with foodstuffs all day long and then smoke a cigar…it just ain’t the same. One can make foolish deductions this way. Guilty as charged.
The char line is exemplary. A fine testament to firefighters and prison guards everywhere.
Transitions begin with only an inch burned. The finish burns my lips from red pepper and cinnamon.
I’ve reviewed some $13+ cigars lately and here is an $8 stick that has the magic. Those thirteen-dollar sticks can kiss my tuchas.
But tell me this…why is damn near every boutique cigar blend a limited edition? This is so frustrating when it’s a good cigar…and you have exactly 17 minutes from alert that it is on sale to sold out. I want to cold cock the manufacturer. This is no way to do business. Now you probably can’t purchase this stick any longer…but on the upside, there are two more blends to be released under the Street Tacos moniker. So, if nothing else, we know that at least the first stick was more than decent.
A very slow burning stick. Rolled correctly. Nice change from the rest of the drek.
The sweet v. savory has kicked in and coats my teeth with love juice. Tobacco love juice, not spooge. I’m not that kind of guy. But at my age, I’ll try anything 14 times before throwing it under the bus.
Carlos Santana’s “I Believe It’s Time” washes away the jinx of Fleetwood Mac. I like da’ funk in the Santana tune.
Strength is a slightly potent medium. This baby may take me to the fences. Upfront warning that whining is approaching.
The spiciness is exciting. Again, takes very little at my age to excite me…The cinnamon and red pepper are in perfect tandem. A low-key approach that doesn’t blank out the sun of the subtle flavors falling into queue.
Last week we had 90-degree weather…this week…cold and rainy. I do believe everyone is getting outrageous weather so I shall shut the fuck up.
The second half of Street Tacos is going to be killer. There. Now I have plated some words to eat in case that’s not the case.
Another month or two, and this blend will be Michelangelo’s ‘David.’ But with a bigger penis. What is it about the Italian sculptors and painters…everyone has a small dick. Not a single Italian statue with a Ron Jeremy.
Yesterday, I reviewed an extensively aged Easter Standard Midnight Express. What a difference. That baby kept going out on me like it was embodied by some dead Nazi looking to fuck me up. The Street Tacos is how a cigar should smoke…strong construction, weighty in the hand, with a beautiful char line…and it doesn’t go out when I type or need to change my Depends. Because of my arthritis, I lay on the bed and allow the cat to gnaw its way through the tape so I can change. That’s a good pet. But I gotta remember not to let him kiss me later.
PerfecDraw fans…Dr. Rod has been under the weather for a bit…not serious, but he is a miserable old man. Feel free to wish him well.
Purely delightful first third. A warmup for good things to come.
No big change in the flavor profile. Sticking with the original flavor list. But the character improves with each puff. Nice balance. Interesting bits of flotsam and jetsam fly by my palate like girls ran past me in high school.
I absolutely love the gentle touch of the spiciness. This is in my wheelhouse. The stick is becoming intense with the complex nature of the blend. My first stick tasted nothing like this morning’s stick. I wasted a perfectly good cigar.
Tuesday was the first time that I’ve ever seen a bounty of unmarked Secret Service gun wagons. Of course, they were not invisible as they had a million lights flashing. The VP was in town. Traffic was a bitch. I spoke to one SS Agent when we were stuck, and he looked exactly like Steven Seagal. The young one, not the old fakakta one.
Blam. The complexity makes a run for the border. The Wall doesn’t stop it. It ratchets up the lovely demeanor of the cigar. But flavors still the same. This may be another cigar where the whole governs. The bits of flavors are there for backup.
“Statesboro Blues.” I can’t type while I bop to the music. You have to wait til the song is over.
Strength is now in medium/full territory.
I am so happy and relieved that this is a great cigar by Noel Rojas. The Rojas Statement was a disappointment. I didn’t want another critical review of a Rojas blend. I dislike eviscerating cigars.
Some real fruitiness appears for the first time. Black cherries, caramel apple, and pumpkin. No. I’m not on drugs…for the moment.
Jesus Alou and Manny Mota. This blend has surpassed my expectations by a country mile. There seems to be no ceiling for the complexity.
The spice is perfect. I want to rub my face all over the cigar’s burning cherry. I’d tell people at work that they are hickeys. They’re retail…they won’t know different.
The halfway point has been reached. I got a boner this big.
Rojas knows his shit. I can’t believe this is an $8 stick. Noel must have enough dough. Imagine how big his herd of sheep and goats are. Or is it a school of sheep and goats? That can’t be right. Barnyard animals can’t get past kindergarten. They hate eating paste.
So, my dears, 2 months of naked humi time works well.
Strength is medium/full.
No nicotine yet. A stay of execution on the whining. My whining, not the cigar’s. Besides, a cigar’s mouth is so tiny, you can’t hear them without shrooms.
Every sip of water creates an excursion on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. I did that once at Disneyland and vomited. I don’t like vomiting.
Graham cracker accentuates the cinnamon. No hints of chocolate or espresso. Creaminess is abundant. Fruity Pebbles runs amok. I like the black licorice in the background. The meaty goatiness is a taste treat.
Cooking goat correctly is hard. Trying to coax them into the goat electric chair is such a hassle. And just try to swindle them into taking their coats off first is impossible.
Damn. I wish I had bought more. When the next blend of the series is released, I shall throw myself into the line of fire and buy a bunch. I’ll tell Charlotte the expense was for having earwax removed by a dentist. Dr. Rod makes a fortune doing this.
Look out…here comes the whining. Nicotine. Pussy, pussy on the wall.
When I worked at Knott’s Berry Farm, you could pay a quarter to buy duck and geese food from a dispenser. My manager told me that those quarters made more dough than the 4 rides on the Independence Hall side of the street combined.
If the cigar gets any better, I will need to set fire to my nose hair.
The cigar has been a slow roll, but time has whisked by like an electrical storm in space.
Everything good about cigar smoking is in play.
Not a single construction issue or burn problem.
The nicotine is in control mode. Even as the cigar skips along to nearly full strength.
I gave Charlotte a pearl necklace for her birthday. She wore it for a month. Make of that statement what you will.
The blend is super smooth. Like velvet on the tongue.
I’m not sure if the Street Tacos moniker relays the flavors one will taste. But if I stretch my imagination, I see it. It’s meaty, spicy, and gives me tortilla breath.
Nothing better than a great cigar to start one’s day. The boils on my face disappear.
To be honest, I’d rather stop writing and just kick back and enjoy the rest of the cigar with my feet up while Sammy the Cat gives me a BJ. Can you say that on WordPress?
So, here’s the deal…when the new blend is released, jump on it like your wife is on fire from overusing her vibrator. If you must, cash in your 401k.
The blend is just gliding. I’m in a happy place…like when I dream that dinosaurs are chasing me, and I can’t run fast enough. Being dinosaur food is an old Hippie’s dream.
After college in 1971, I was given a 4F by the draft board for mental instability.
There is nothing left for me to expound upon.
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS