Wrapper: Mexican San Andrés Maduro
Size: 5 x 54
Released June 2021 (This is referring to the new Mitre size).
Factory: Tabacalera Villa Cuba S.A. (TAVICUSA)
From Halfwheel.com (8-20-2020):
“While most people reading this article have probably not heard of the All Saints brand, one of the founders became a part of the cigar industry more than 20 years ago.
“Micky Pegg started as an intern on Capitol Hill, where he was sent to buy cigars for a member of Congress from retailer Georgetown Tobacco. That eventually led to a job at the retailer, where he stayed until being a sales rep for Davidoff, Felipe Gregorio and CAO, the latter of which he served as vp of sales until the company was folded into General Cigar Co.
“He went on to work in finance, but like so many who try to leave the cigar industry, he came back.
“Fast forward to April of this year, when All Saints released its first regular production line: Dedicación, which translates to Dedication from Spanish. The four vitola line is blended with a Mexican San Andrés wrapper covering all Nicaraguan tobacco in the binder and filler and is a tribute to all the people Pegg is thankful for.
“Dedicación is for every meaningful person in my life,” said Pegg, in a statement on the All Saints website. “From those working in the fincas to the families they support. ““And for the families in the States that support those guys that are on the road four or five days a week. And it’s for my mentors along the way like David Berkebile, Walter Gorski, George Brightman and, of course, Cano Ozgener (the late founder of CAO).”
SIZES AND PRICING:
Berkey 5.5 x 50 $9.70
Commandant 6.5 x 52 $10.20
Huge 6 x 60 $10.90
Coach 7 x 48 $11.40
Mitre 5 x 54 $9.95
This is a stick constructed by torcedores that take pride in their work. Seams are barely visible. Veins are small and unobtrusive. The nippled cap reminds me of Playboy magazines from the 1960’s. I like the double cigar bands…simple and classy. The cigar is very densely packed. I get no squeeze when I constrict it like I did when I was 13. In room light, the wrapper is very much a hue of dark chocolate with just a bit of oiliness. In the klieg light version, the oiliness shimmers like a sunset in Hawaii. While my photo makes the stick look toothy, it is not. Smooth as your own tushy.
SMELL THE GLOVE:
First impact is clove, dark cocoa, sugary iced tea, cedar, black pepper, oozing creaminess, hazelnut, and espresso.
The cold draw is surprisingly clean and perfect. I was ready with my PerfecDraw draw adjustment tool…but I will slide it back into storage right next to my bidet.
Cinnamon, black pepper, dark chocolate, various nut meats, generic sweetness, cedar, cool whipped cream, and black coffee.
The cigar enters the territory of the complex immediately. Now, this cigar blend has been out a couple years…I am merely reviewing this new size and shape. Just wanted to make that clear as I know how readers tend to nod off while I ramble.
Flavors are mild and very un-aggressive. The savory v. sweet factors jump aboard like the first time a girl said yes to you.
The spiciness is a combo of mild black pepper and red-hot cinnamon. None of it overshadowing the very subtle performance. All I can think of, at this early point, is tiramisu. Very chocolaty and creamy. The nuttiness wavers between Brazil nut to peanut and back again. Like a traveling snake oil salesman.
No saltiness. I solved my dehydration issue by consuming mass quantities of water. It took 4-5 days to get back to ground zero in my proper hydration.
This baby is screaming laughter like a sea of swarming simbas. This is going to be one of those reviews where I fawn over it like trying to coerce girls by telling them how beautiful they are, while begging to get to second base when I was a teen. Like Déjà vu all over again, the same approach is required after 86 years of marriage.
Nuances kick in and the transition parade begins with me at the end shoveling elephant shit. Every time I was taken to the circus as a kid, I always felt great empathy for the guy that had to do that. What a mortifying gig…like being a gynecologist. Imagine staring at sick pussies all day long. Oh lord. What kind of guy starting med school says, “I know what I want to do! Fix vaginas!”
The balance has been spot on since the third puff. Transitions are just getting started. The finish is eternally long. I have to recuse myself in that statement.
The char line is dead nuts perfect.
The density of the cigar’s guts makes this a slow roll…more time to hallucinate.
The Dedicación Mitre by All Saints is an impressive blend.
But here is the most impressive fact…I’ve had it naked in my humidor for only two weeks! I smoked my first one 3 days ago and had planned to review it yesterday…but I woke up dead from the neck up.
I guess oldsters can relate. James Taylor is on with “You’ve Got a Friend.” Always loved this guy’s music. And any time I saw him, he had Lee Sklar on bass. This guy is a monster on the 4 string. The first time I saw him was in 1967 opening in a three-piece instrumental band for one of those 7 act shows where every one hit wonder got 15 minutes to play. We had front row seats at the Santa Monica Arena and was not expecting to have my gonads blown away. Still looking for them. They are here somewhere…oh, there they are…dangling like a Basset Hound’s ears.
I wish All Saints had made this shape into a longer stick. 5” ain’t enough. (If I had a dime for every girl that has said that to me…).
Absolutely stupendous blend. No shit, my friends. This must be seriously aged tobacco…yet there is nothing in the press release or interviews I read that mention aging. There is no way that this cigar can taste like swimming naked in the L.A. River after only two weeks of humidor time.
No new flavors. Every element I’ve described is working in perfect harmony with each other. Perfect balance. The spiciness from the black pepper and cinnamon is just edgy enough to give the blend the exact right kick in the ass without dominating.
Strength is a perfect medium.
“Stand By Me” sung by the original Ben E. King. Came out in 1961. Every band I ever heard in the 60’s covered it. I loved it because I got to play a perfect and succinct bass line. That riff starts and everyone knows what song you are going to play.
The sweetness comes from harmonious corners. The creamy chocolate tiramisu, brown sugar cookies, a slight teriyaki influence, premium caramel, and a chewy nougat are like long lost pals. The savory is made up of seared smoky filet mignon, Brazil nuts, a touch of peanuts that weave themselves in and out of the picture, and…I know this is weird, but a fine cold water sauteed salmon. It is not fishy tasting. I’m miles away from a girl’s locker room…but it has that beautifully oily and buttery, flaky richness that I’ve never tasted in another cigar blend.
Super duper complex and it climbs that ladder with each puff.
First sip of water and the salmon gets the spotlight. How strange is this? It also coalesces the entire program of mentioned flavors.
Transitions are moving like wildfire. I burp and taste red bell pepper. Since I haven’t eaten today, that is a weird one.
This Dedicación Mitre by All Saints is blowing the heavens into the next neighborhood.
“Get Back” is playing. You have no idea, unless you are old, how controversial the “California grass” line was in the age of dinosaurs fighting each other for the sweet leaves at the top of the trees.
Construction has been impeccable. Not a single burn issue. Plus, the stick remains cool and dense. Like Andre the Giant.
I want to thank Derek Sanderson. He made it possible for me to snag this cigar.
The strength is beginning to enter a solemn medium/full arena. I say that because nicotine enters…dancing the light fantastic.
I cannot begin to imagine what this blend will taste like with 3-4 months humi time. Did I mention it has only two weeks in its cage?
“Fool in the Rain” by Zep is playing. I watched a Led Zep documentary yesterday that took my memory banks to the late 60’s and 70’s. Ever heard any bootlegs of their live performances? John Paul Jones must be an alien from the planet Humbucker.
Another sip of water and my head snaps back and falls into the spittoon next to me. I will Gorilla Glue it back later.
The end is near. I’m verblunget. I believe everyone should take a class in speaking Yiddish and then fly to Afghanistan. It will get you through the roughest times. You’ll never see the sword lopping your head off and hence, a painless death.
Oh lord…The Eagles. Sorry Rod. I am on the same wavelength as The Big Lebowski.
This has been a great way to start my day. It puts me in a place where I am at peace with the fucking neck pain. Don’t even notice it.
Again, for me, the whole exceeding its parts is in my wheelhouse of brilliant blends. The Dedicación Mitre by All Saints may very easily make my list of the best of 2021.
“Woman” by John Lennon. Jesus. You just know that if he had lived, he and McCartney would be pumping out great tunes in their 70’s.
Consistency is the key to this blend. It oozes complexity. Every puff provides the same effect as peyote…after you’ve vomited, of course.
We were traveling to the next gig when Sonja gives me the first BJ. Then it was Stewart’s turn. He finished and his head sunk into the head rest. He turns his head and says to me: “Kohn, we are cum brothers.”
The one hour and 15 minutes flew by in nothing flat. Which is good for you as I could have rambled on incessantly if this stick had an extra inch.
My fave Beach Boys’ song is playing: “God Only Knows.” A perfect climax for the disappearing cigar.
I yank my PerfecDraw tool out of the bidet (Yeah, I wasn’t careful about its placement) and I use it as a roach clip.
The blend ends with a medium/full strength…but without a hint of harshness or heat.
And the nicotine was totally controlled. I can sit comfortably in my full Depends.
My last sip of water and my face explodes like the first time I had sex. I was 38.
As I haven’t tried the earlier released sizes, I now wonder if I should snag some.
This is a must try.
Enjoy your day.
And now for something completely different:
All of you have read this old chestnut a dozen times…but I have a new reader from Malaysia…making him my 57th follower…so, this one is for you, Awang.
We were on tour for 6 weeks throughout Europe. For one of those weeks, we were on the same bill as Larry Coryell and the Eleventh House.
Many of you may not know who Larry Coryell is. He is known as the “Godfather of Fusion”. He changed my life with his progressive style back in 1972. Along with his cohorts of the day: Stanley Clarke, Ron Carter, Keith Jarret, Mahavishnu Orchestra, and on and on.
I was a jazzer when I auditioned for Curved Air, in 1974, and won the audition hands down because my kind of playing hadn’t reached the English shores yet. All the bass players at the audition played exactly like Chris Squire of “Yes.”
We spent a week in Switzerland opening for Coryell. At the time, Switzerland had no big arenas, so we played in auditoriums that seated just a couple thousand people.
But we packed them. We were a double threat.
Drummer Alphonse Mouzon got a little crush on CA singer, Sonja Kristina. And he never hid his feelings. One night, it boiled over. Copeland, Kristina, Mouzon, and I were standing on the side of the stage while blind keyboardist Mike Mandel played a long solo alone on stage. I remember he did a great Nixon impression that cracked up the Swiss audience.
And then it went haywire. Copeland and Kristina were an item; later to be married. Mouzon put the heavy moves on in front of Stew. In a flash, tempers flared, and fists started flying. Both Kristina and I got in the middle, and took a couple hits each, to stop the insanity. Roadies came to the rescue, from both sides, and pulled them off each other. For the rest of the week, it was all ice between us and Mouzon. Coryell never got involved but no one knows what he said to Mouzon behind closed doors.
Swiss audiences are very reserved. Applause is minimum. There is no screaming. No girls on top of boys’ shoulders with their tops off. They just sit quietly in their seats taking it all in and really focusing on the music and performance. I liked that about them. I hated raucous audiences. No one was really listening. Now we never had a Beatles-like reception, but I got the taste of what it was like not to have anyone listening, just going nuts. Of course, in those days, the Beatles had horrible sound systems and they couldn’t be heard anyway.
We had one of those systems that blew your hair back.
Now who the hell thought it a good idea to put Coryell on a bill with us…. a progressive rock band with a violin, cutting edge synthesizers and a chick singer along the lines of Stevie Nicks and Janis? It was a crazy bill.
Even though the musicians in my band were world class classical musicians, they didn’t know squat about this new musical movement. But I did, because I was the only real American in the group. Even Stewart Copeland, (The Police), our drummer, wasn’t that familiar. I idolized Larry and his band mates so when one night, after the gig, he invited us up to his hotel room to shoot the shit and smoke Cuban cigars, we all jumped at the chance.
The worst thing you can do with a celebrity, if you should meet one, is act like a fan. Be yourself and talk about the weather.
But noooo…my bandmates interviewed him. I was so embarrassed that I couldn’t look up from my cigar.
Curved Air has over 20 albums under their belt, so they were no slouches. And here they are mesmerized. And behaving like rank fans.
I had been smoking cigars since I was 18. That’s because my dad smoked ‘em and so did his pop. I was DNA impregnated. My band mates smoked cigarettes and that’s it. They had no idea what was in store for them. I did; and chuckled.
Larry passed around GIANT Cubans. Beer and wine were offered, and Larry and I dug right in. The others watched our lead as they had never smoked cigars, including the chick singer.
I remember the bliss of that fine cigar and as my eyes met Larry’s, we smiled big and laughed out loud. From the peanut gallery, I heard coughing and choking. Again, Larry and I glanced at each other and burst into raucous laughter.
The schmucks did not want to admit they had never smoked a cigar, let alone, a strong Cuban. So, they puffed away, occasionally inhaling. They were real dumbasses. In a matter of minutes, I had a bunch of Kermit the Frogs in the room. It’s hard being green.
Larry answered their questions politely. Then, one at a time, each one of the dip shits excused themselves to go to the bathroom where we heard projectile heaving. Larry and I never laughed so hard.
Within 30 minutes, my band had retired to their own hotel bathrooms. Larry and I spent the rest of the night, til dawn, smoking, drinking, and telling stories about the “road.”
I shall never forget his kindness and down to earth personality.
What a night!
Larry passed in April 2017 at the age of 73. Alphonse Mouzon passed in December 2016 at age 68.
This is a poster I still have advertising one of the Swiss gigs. You will notice that as the supporting band, Curved Air is listed in very small letters.
How’d I do Awang Dang Doodle?
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS