Wrapper: Corojo ‘99
Size: 5.625 x 46 Corona Gorda
Photo courtesy of Cigar Federation:
This is a Cigar Federation exclusive. Only 1900 cigars were produced.
For more info on this cigar, go to Cigar Federation.
It is a nicely constructed stick. Solid, but with the proper give when squished. Veins are few. Seams are visible but flattened tight and sharp as a razor. It is a double cap from my viewpoint, but I could be wrong. The wrapper glistens and café latte color is enhanced. Big fan of this size.
SMELL THE GLOVE:
Aromas are Nicaraguan all the way: Floral notes, dark cocoa, espresso, creamy, marzipan, black and red pepper, malt, cedar, vanilla bean, barnyard, and peanuts.
The cold draw presents flavors of the great outdoors…fish sticks, open campfire, creamy marshmallow, dark chocolate, espresso, charred oak, spiciness, cinnamon, and drunken skunk.
The cigar is packed solid, but airflow is on the money. I grab my PerfecDraw draw adjustment tool and return it to its cave of solitude at Big Bear Lake.
THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
A nice cinnamon crunch begins the journey. The cinnamon destroys the black pepper and reminds me of a candied apple. Creaminess folds to its breasts notes of dark cocoa, strong espresso, vanilla extraordinaire, very out-front caramel, heavy malt, cedar, and marzipan. Terrific start.
Complexity kicks in immediately. Transitions dart into oncoming traffic. The finish is chock full of cinnamon spiciness, creaminess, and chocolate.
I always expect a lot from Southern Draw. Their track record is superlative in nature and execution. I am a fanboy.
A deep richness enters from the locked trunk of my 1969 Ford Pinto. It hits an initial balance that gets an excited old man looking forward to the second half. The first starlings are rife with potential.
Pandora is on as usual…”Red House” by Jimi Hendrix. If you were in a cover band in the 60’s and beyond, you had that song in your set list.
The burn is slow. But such intense complexity is already in play, coach.
I love this cigar. And I’ve barely begun to visualize its camel toe.
The burn is immaculate. I use my slide rule to figure the odds of perfection. Yeah…I’m so old that prior to calculators and computers, we had to use those horrible things to do complex math. What a drag. But I still have them in a box hidden in a deep well on the property.
Strength is a very easy going medium. A nice morning stick. I’ve had my coffee so my blood is full of artificial stimulants. There will be at least 4 pee breaks during this review.
At the slow rate of the burn, this Corona Gorda is going to be an hour plus smoke. Plus, I dig the intensity the size brings to the tobacco. Like compressing cesium in a vice.
I’m not sure why yet, but there is a hint of the Rose of Sharon lurking in the finish.
A creamy almond butter note smacks me upside the head. I don’t wince. I’m married.
The blend makes quick departures from moments earlier as flavors shift constantly. I like that.
First sip of water and my nipples get tied in a knot. A little painful, but we union reviewers must cowboy up no matter the effect of a cigar blend.
So, Elon bought Twitter. I could give a fuck. I now stay off all social media. I’m on linkedin, but that’s it. I have nothing to say on Twitter or Instagram…and I am not interested in what bored strangers have to say. Plus, I challenge you name one person in their 70’s that is excited to view the trendiest of trends. We have other things to do…like trying to stay alive.
The Metamorphosis is a different tack for SDC. It has its own specific identity. Passionate blending is apparent.
A very relaxing morning cigar due to the implanted chip that keeps the cigar an even keeled medium strength.
It has taken over 20 minutes to get to the second third.
Regardless of CF’s statement that once these are gone, they are gone forever. They will be back.
Flavor points are exceedingly out front. While at the same time, it forms a sharing circle that envelops me in a warm complex blankey.
Caramel enters the picture with a potent sweetness. Yet the blend manages a nice balance of Sweet v. Savory. But due to the constant change of direction, each puff is a prize in a Cracker Jack box.
As a kid, my dad took me to a lot of Dodgers’ games. Back then, treats were spare in their assortment. Peanuts, hot dogs, beer, cotton candy in a plastic bag, Cracker Jack, and my favorite: the frozen chocolate malt. After consuming all of these goodies during the game, I always made it a point to projectile vomit before we got back in the car.
Strength is dastardly as it hits medium/full with 2” burned.
I feel nicotine taking a looky loo tour in my lizard brain.
The perfect char line stomps its feet and bellows look at me. I gently pat the cigar’s head and say, good boy, good boy, who loves you?
In 1968 and 1969, I took bass lessons from the iconic bass session player of the Wrecking Crew, Carol Kaye. My older cousin, Fred Selden (an accomplished reed session player) knew her and got me the private lessons. A nice woman whose legacy is monumental. At 87, she is still chooglin’. Weekly lessons were $25 a pop. I use the currency calculator and in 2022 dollars, which racks up to $200 per lesson. Ouch. God bless my parents. I was working part time, while in college, at Knott’s Berry Farm making $1.65 an hour. Never could have afforded those lessons on my pay.
And then the sweet spot shows up with baubles and determination. It is the halfway point. 35+ minutes.
Complexity and balance are raging against the machine.
It is raining pretty hard…so I allow Charlotte to come back inside. Just need to find the handcuff keys.
While black pepper is a nice background influence, the spiciness is being constantly updated by the cinnamon.
Southern Draw always has me by the short hairs. They are reliably excellent and price points are manageable.
The blend is screaming laughter. Its complexity runs so deep now that my head spins. Linda Blair was a 3rd cousin. But as avocados are now going for $17 each, I substitute moldy cat food for scaring each Catholic priest that enters the room.
The finish is wonderful as it never takes a break. Transitions are jogging like it is 1966. Each puff brings the aforementioned notes to the surface with extreme prejudice.
The blend is rich with a multitude of influences.
The cigar is on the cusp of being full tilt. Nicotine runs rampant and reduces me to a puddle of flatulence.
My eyes begin to water with crocodile tears. You ever make a reptile cry? Me neither.
All described flavors remain intact.
This is one of the strongest SDC blends I’ve smoked.
Wisconsin has seen a serious uptick in Covid. Here we go again.
“Tuesday’s Gone” by Lynyrd Skynyrd is playing. I sway to the music while holding high my Bic lighter.
The cigar lasts 70 minutes. Loved every second.
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS