La Galera Imperial Jade | Cigar Reviews by the Katman

Wrapper: Cameroon
Binder: Dominican Criollo (Jacagua Farm)
Filler: Dominican Piloto Cubano (Jacagua Farm) & Criollo 98 (La Canela Farm)
Size: 6 x 52 Piramide
Strength: Medium
Price: $9.50

I’ve had my review cigars for 5 months. Dry boxed today’s victim for 4 days.

Release Date: October 2021
Regular Production
According to the La Galera website:
“La Galera is thrilled to announce the launch of our new cigar, La Galera Imperial Jade, wrapped in Cameroonian seed tobacco grown throughout Cameroon.

“Cameroon wrapper cigars are few and far between, and not without good reason. The seed for this type of tobacco is disease prone, low yield, and produced in Cameroon; a Central African Republic that lacks experienced producers and knowledgeable personnel for pickling, curing, and classifying the tobacco.

“The lack of tobacco know-how in Cameroon means extra work for us at the factory. When the tobacco is received it must go through additional processes, making sure the tobacco is up to the standard that we require it to be before we even think of putting it in one of our cigars.

“To make working with Cameroon even more of a challenge, the wrapper is wafer-thin and stiff, making it a nightmare to handle.
“The final product is something that, like the imperial jade, is alluring, enticing, smooth to the touch, and irresistible to look at.”

Corona 5.5 x 44 $7.00
Robusto 5.5 x 50 $8.00
Piramide 6 x 52 $9.50
Toro 6 x 52 $9.00
Churchill 7 x 47 $9.50

The Piramide is not an easy shape to roll correctly. This stick looks like a sharp dressed man. The most impressive impression is how this baby wreaks of oil along the entire shaft. Seams are visible but tight. Veinage in abundance. The difficult cap is done to perfection.

But these old eyes have a lot of trouble seeing all the fol de rol illustrations on the cigar band. I use a copy of the Hubble telescope I had commissioned in order to see the artwork. Very elegant.
The cigar feels right in the hand. Weight seems on the money without hard or soft spots amongst the jungle life.

Aromas caress the Kohn schnoz and gives off notes of floral, milk chocolate, sour cream, mild spicy pepper, melon, malt, cedar, caramel, and barnyard.
The draw is how daddy likes it, so once again, my PerfecDraw draw adjustment tool must wait its turn in queue for the next cigar I smoke that will be solid granite.

The cold draw presents flavors of black pepper, creaminess, banana, milk chocolate, raisins, caramel, malt, and cedar.

The first puffs weren’t sent in by the Gipper to amaze and confuse me. Instead, it is just a nice mild tobacco flavor living with its parents.

First up out of the ass end of the cigar is nutty notes that are a compendium of them all…no specific nut stands out. As in the case of this review site.

Bananas Foster shows its glistening fire storm. Big smile. Creaminess blots out the sun and hinders the black pepper from burgeoning into an onslaught of overwhelming spiciness.

Character begins to wrap itself around Fay Wray like a giant boa constrictor. I actually feel my testicles relaxing. I use the cat litter scoop to lay them next to me on my desk.

The burn is an exemplary manifesto of how God intended cigars should behave. I always genuflect and eat a couple of wafers prior to the start of any review. Sometimes, Charlotte puts on her German nun costume and we’re off and running.

At a little more than half an inch burned, the cigar passes childhood and moves to its teen years…abusive, disrespectful, and a rebel. This is good. Unless you have one of those.

Strength is barely medium.

Transitions begin with a slew of flavor points. All very mild without much attack but pleasant all the same….and showing me that growth is in motion. The finish is cream and black pepper.

Sips of water create the same high as taking acid and flying out the window of an 18-story building. Plenty of time before the splat.

My son in law, the tactical cop, rarely speaks about his dangerous job. He is tired of it. But a couple days ago, he picked up the little boys from our place after a 12-hour shift serving warrants. An 18-year-old was hunkered down in his attic while the tactical team tried to talk him out of there. They waited for hours. Nothing. John didn’t feel like waiting any longer and went up into the attic with a shield and confronted the kid. This ‘kid’ had murdered someone the week before and he had several weapons. John spent 3 hours up there talking this kid into wearing handcuffs and no one was hurt. Charlotte and I stood there with our mouths open. He does this several times per day. We had trouble with John’s job the first couple of years but then had to let it go and compartmentalize it so we didn’t constantly worry. My son in law is a crazy bad ass. Me? I throw rocks at fat women.

During that story, the cigar blend improved nicely. A fuller body, a bag of ferret compliments, balance is on point, an evenly paced burn, and a flavor that sophisticated and newbies will really enjoy. I’m having a good time. And my pants are still on.

I removed the band and grab the Hubble again…this is one of the most beautiful pieces of artwork on a cigar I’ve seen. I’m not going to take a photo because it’s my site and I can do what I want to…you would too if it happened to you. Plus, I’m lazy.

Anyone still have some extra S&H Green Stamp books they are holding on to?

There are small notes of licorice, burnt eel liver, cinnamon crumble, the chocolate is a constant, a dab of espresso, stronger banana, salted caramel, malt, and hazelnuts.

Strength is a solid medium.
Very pleasurable cigar blend.

Perfect for a morning cigar with coffee. Or just right after taking Ecstasy with Fentanyl and Propofol to get your heart started…wait…er…

The stick enters the world of well rounded and balanced blends you want despite your wife nagging you over your cigar obsession.

It’s nice to smoke a blend that isn’t a Nic puro. I believe the cigar industry over corrected once this choice of blends became hyper popular over the last 10 years.

The cigar is packed like a blow-up sex doll. Slow roll as the Jade takes its ever-lovin’ time.

The cigar never takes a step backwards. Into the valley of death it marches as it finds new treasures and bear traps with small children encased in Lucite.
It ain’t a one trick pony.

Strength begins its ascent at the halfway point. It is my spleen that first recognizes strength arrival. I was born with it. Mayo Clinic calls it Spleenish Ridiculoso.

My only criticism is that I would have loved this blend with even more enthusiasm if the cigar had started with an explosion instead of a natural growth process that begins with a teaser mentality.

Flavors meld. Spock is nowhere to be seen.

I found a cigar forum for seniors. I like it. Although, members often get off topic because they forget what they are saying. Hence, comments are restricted to no more than 9 words. And showing off the latest design by Depends is verboten.

The price point for this line shows that greed is not always in the conversation.
The Jade makes its move. The complexity is obsidian on toast.
Strength officially moves to medium/full. Nicotine arrives in a pumpkin coach.

Stats for American males say the average life span is 76. I have 4 years to start some new hobbies. I pick orgies without barnyard animals, learning Esperanto, purchasing a pud stretcher, zip lining, coloring inside the lines, and no more GILF porn.

There is a wonderful mouth feeling emanating from each cigar to mouth encampment.

This is a very good cigar. I recommend it for smokers who like complexity, balance, subtlety, nuance, and running naked down the street during an electrical storm.

Charlotte appears at the door of my mini man cave wearing a metal pointy helmet and jack boots. I know what that means. I dunk my naughty bits in the bidet, and I am now ready for hot monkey sex.


And now for something completely different:

Way back in 1973, I played with a drummer named John and a guitarist named Tim. We would jam at John’s house all day long. Smoking doobs and playing. Strictly woodshedding. This had an enormous positive effect on my chops. We recorded the entire time and would take breaks to listen.

John played out in a couple of country bands. I was a rock and roller. Country did not interest me.

One day, John invited me to come record with him at a small studio in Newport Beach, CA.

Only film nuts and old guys will remember this name: Chill Wills. He was a cowboy movie actor. And in just about every western made in the 1940’s and 1950’s. And almost always in every John Wayne movie. They were buddies.

I was star struck when I met Mr. Wills. His venture was strictly a vanity project. He got some good players together to record songs he had written on guitar. And they needed a bassist. I got the gig.

I was nervous, but at the end of the night, Chill took me aside and told me, “You did good, kid.”
I was invited back once a week.

Now these fellas could drink. I mean really drink. Strictly whiskey. I’ve never been a drinker and disappointed everyone. But John always brought some weed and we all imbibed, including Chill.

This man looked exactly like he did in the movies: scruffy, unshaven and never combed his hair.
I did this for a year. And then I left for Europe.

But you would not believe the people I met while hanging with Chill Wills. All the cowboy movie stars of the time.

John Wayne even showed up a few times to sing with Chill. It was hilarious. Neither could hold a note. But they got drunk, and they didn’t care.

I was never allowed to keep a cassette copy of what we played. Chill was adamant about that.

Wayne always showed up without his toupee. And I never got used to looking at him this way.

Once, Wayne invited all the musicians to board his yacht docked in Newport Beach. He bought a Navy mine sweeper and converted it into the biggest yacht I had ever seen. This was one cool boat.

I met a lot of stars that night as Chill introduced me to everyone. They were polite but I was just a musician and therefore, beneath them…plus I was only 23-24.

On the last night we recorded in April 1974, Chill Wills gave me the biggest bear hug. He wished me well on my journey to Europe. And we both shed a couple of tears.

I never saw him again. But it was certainly one of those once in a lifetime experience.

The only bummer about the experience is that this big group of good ol’ boys were bigots and racists. Hollywood bigots. You know…the damn Jews run everything, and we hate them all. Wills knew immediately I was a Jew by my last name. John Wayne did too. But they got used to me because Wills liked me playing bass for him…and I was pretty low key.

In fact, I was in shock most of the time being around these icons.

Sometimes we’d be sitting in the control booth, and they would all be dissing the Jew film company owners, Jew agents, Jew managers, Jew accountants, etc. They completely forgot I was there, but I think they just didn’t give a shit if I heard it or not. I never said anything; though occasionally I did speak up when they started using the ‘K” word. They would laugh and knuckle me in the shoulder.

I was pretty affable at 23. And they recognized that and since I was there to play, not horn in on their clique, they accepted me…eventually. The Duke called me “Jew Boy” a couple times and I gave him the serious stink eye. He would erupt in laughter and of course, his own Cowboy Rat Pack would join in.

Of course, that was a different time and being politically correct, or woke, was not in their nature.

Interesting note about John Wayne. Back in the day, the Orange County Airport was named John Wayne Airport. But the guy lived under one of the flight paths of the jets landing and taking off. He constantly complained to everyone that would listen. It pissed off all the pilots. So, the pilots stopped calling it John Wayne Airport and only referred to it as Orange County Airport. It stuck.

To give you an idea of how I appeared to these strait-laced actors…might provide the reason I was considered a fucking Hippie.