Wrapper: Mexican San Andrés Maduro
Binder: Connecticut stalk-cut and stalk-cured Habano
Filler: Nicaraguan Habano, Brazilian Mata Fina
Size: 6 x 48 Belicoso Box Pressed
Strength: Medium/Full
Price: $11.70
Okie doke…Spoiler Alert: I have had these cigars for exactly 4 days. At this point, you either get the gist of this review…or you’re Kevin McCarthy. Let me clarify…I dislike the far right and I dislike the far left. I’m in the middle. And if politics enter my reviews now and then, be gentle my dears. I saw Nixon resign live, in 1974, on TV in Germany. I saw, on live TV, Ruby shoot Oswald. So, give me a break…Get it? Got it? Good.
If you read yesterday’s review of the new Sancho Panza Extra Fuerte, you probably couldn’t help but notice that I’ve been left a blithering idiot from having a stroke on Jan. 4. I never go back and edit anything. I write contemporaneously and whatever it ends up, it ends up. But yesterday’s exhibition as a result of the leftovers from my brain explosion should make it clear I’m missing a few nuts and bolts…I heard what you mumbled under your breath.
This is a trite and corny statement…but cheating death does give one a smack in the puss that gives me a more intense appreciation for life.
Every morning that I wake up is a joy…especially at my age. I don’t want to be selfish or ego centric about my experience, so I want to give a shout out to first responders. My son in law is a cop here in Milwaukee. I know his team and the firefighters and paramedics that are part of his and my daughter’s social circle. These folks are roughly half my age and each day that they go to work, they risk their lives. I have no conception of what that must be like. I suppose compartmentalizing is an art that they have mastered. I feel humbled to know these good people. Which makes me feel like a big cry baby because I’ve lived a full life. I also knew many of the team that were taken in the line of duty over the years…way too young. I respect this group of givers, from all over the country, like nobody’s business.
Like dementia, the things that you can still do after a stroke are the things that you have been doing for a lifetime. And I’ve been a writer…OK, a so-so writer, for my entire life. The best therapy for me is several things: Writing, masturbation, playing bass, and my sense of humor. I like masturbation the best. But then I get sleepy. After writing a review, I stomp around the apartment yelling at myself that I could have done much better.
I lost three dear longtime friends in the last two years. My other best friends were gone in our 50’s and 60’s. Why am I telling you this? I forget. I had a stroke on Wednesday.
I have one old friend left and he is full of PTSD and suffers from multiple cancers caused by Agent Orange. Getting to be old ain’t so easy…lots of obstacles. Seeing ripe old age ain’t guaranteed. And once you’ve had a stroke, especially as it was brought on by stress…let’s face it…the time I have left is calibrated by an egg timer. So, I plan to make the most of it. I’m throwing out the rules.
I’ve never been one who endures authority. Since I was spared and given the gift of life, I plan on doubling down on enjoying every day I have left. So, no more Mr. Nice Guy if a blend stinks. But I look forward to being effusively happy when I get a good cigar for review. I am hoping to channel George Carlin in me from now on. I don’t give a shit what the industry thinks…or smokers that put up their noses as they don’t approve of me. If I say fuck 34 times in a review, so be it. No hostages. Besides, most of my life is canonized in thousands of reviews. I want my family to know me through my words after I’m gone. My daughter will make sure that this blog stays up until my little grandsons are mature enough to read it.
OK. Enough of the emotional stuff. Which by the way is a by product of a stroke. I’ve turned into a little girl…or better yet, Robert DeNiro in “Analyze This.” I cry at commercials. I wish I had a Billy Crystal. I will end each review with a simple statement that comes from my heart.
BACKGROUND:
Released December 12, 2022
Factory: La Gran Fabrica Drew Estate in Estelí, Nicaragua.
From Drew Estate:
“Ten years ago, the Cigar Dojo was born … A unique platform where cigar smokers all over the world can enjoy a fine smoke together,” says Eric Guttormson, Cigar Dojo’s owner and Master Sensei on Dojoverse.com. “To celebrate this monumental occasion, we have once again partnered with Drew Estate and created a very special cigar that represents who we are, what we stand for, and why we love this culture. Like Cigar Dojo itself, Undercrown Dojo Dogma is a cigar created by cigar lovers for cigar lovers.”
“Only 2,500 of the 10-count 2022 Undercrown Dojo Dogma Maduro cigars are available, and each box is emblazoned with both the Drew Estate and Cigar Dojo emblems.
“Jonathan Drew, Founder and President of Drew Estate adds,“Our Undercrown brand celebrated a ‘Decade of Dedication’ in 2021, and now Cigar Dojo is achieving that milestone as well. I raise my glass to them and say, ‘Saludos y Felicitaciones!!!’ This is one of the most gorgeous products we’ve released to date in the Undercrown brand, it’s nothing short of spectacular in every way.”
THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
This cigar wreaks of potential. And since they will disappear from the marketplace very soon, why not review the cigar based upon what is and what will never be…er…what it will be with lots of humidor time.
Know what makes me unhappy? Fucking weed raises your blood pressure. My blood pressure is already sky high. Fuck, shit, crap, piss, Petunia Pig. Since I don’t really drink, cannabis was the one thing that would relax me in the evenings. Fuck, shit, crap, piss, Porky Pig.
In my research, I don’t remember any P.R. with emphasis mentioned about seriously aged tobacco used in this cigar. Either that, or I forget. I had a stroke on Wednesday.
But the tobacco is so beautifully chosen by the blenders that extensive aging may not be an integral part of this blend.
Disclaimer: I have always loved the Undercrown line. Why? Dunno. I find that the blends have always hit my G Spot. Yes, I have a vagina. Her name is Charlotte. I don’t know what Charlotte calls her vagina.
The first puffs are a Santa’s bag full of flavors: Dark chocolate, espresso, creaminess, black pepper, cinnamon, nuttiness, malt, beef jerky, cedar, and dried apricot.
An exclamation point of complexity explodes from the starting gate. The finish is chock full of those flavors two-fold. Great depth of balance. A wide spectrum of disparate tobaccos working together to build this pyramid. Barney Rubble approves.
Construction is immaculate. The burn line is military spec.
Jonathan Drew is a mad scientist. He can be brilliant. And there are times that I don’t know what the fuck he is thinking. Do I care what the fuck Drew thinks of me? Fuck no. He is still a kid. He will grow through his bizarre stage; I would love to see what he blends 10-20 years from now. Me? I’ll be in a Yuban can on the mantle.
I have a lot of new cigars I want to review. I’m not waiting for months before I review them. I plan on doing what many other reviewers do…open the box and write a review 15 minutes later. 10 years ago, limited productions were small. So a reviewer had time to let a cigar rest properly. No longer. I’ve smoked cigars for over half a century and I’m going to let my experience find the potential and give you my opinion.
The chocolate, black coffee, creaminess, and extreme nuttiness are going to town. The black pepper and cinnamon are working in tandem.
The burn is a slow roll…allowing the movements of complexity to inch forward with intent. I dig a pony. Damn. John Lennon has been gone for 42 years. I remember the day. You had to be there to be blown away by the love that poured out for that man. I have music playing and listening to “Ticket to Ride” brought on that old memory.
Strength is an easy going medium.
A natural sweetness is coming from the choices of tobacco. If I squint, I can taste pecan pie, cinnamon rolls, Tootsie Rolls, and vanilla custard.
I take my time as the controlled flavor output is subtle. I need a couple minutes of lip smacking to pick out a flavor rainbow.
This is my new favorite Undercrown. My favorite was the Sun Grown. It has been bumped to second place.
The ash refuses to disembark. I lay a kitchen towel on my privates just in case.
With 1-1/4” burned, the time continuum has been blurred. I glance at the clock, and it has taken 20 minutes to get here.
Baking brown sugar takes the lead. Makes sense.
Complexity never stops chooglin’. With each puff, it intensifies. As it rises to the occasion, my inner mouth smiles with all teeth showing. No idea what that meant…I had a stroke last Wednesday.
Don’t you just love a cigar that floats you into a state of relaxation? Me too.
If you really want to enjoy what the blenders unfolded in this cigar, it must be smoked without distraction. So much more is on display if there is no interference from your friends jabbering away while they smoke their cigars.
A masterful blend. Really. This isn’t the 2oz of brain left in my cranium. I am truly shocked as I gave it zero humi time.
I once again take a gander at the leaf stats. A dazzling menu. All my go to innards.
A gentle medium/full strength begins its journey.
The price point of less than $12 is a gut punch. DE could have jacked up the price but they had a conscience. Humanity has a chance. I’m so tired of seeing a gaggle of $20+ cigars arriving on the scene. Shame on them.
The Sancho Panza Extra Fuerte at $7 was an outstanding blend. If the cigar industry wasn’t a bunch of greedy bastards, life could be simpler for cigar junkies.
When I got home from the hospital, I immediately showered. I made sure Charlotte was taken care of. And then I smoked a cigar. I say fuck it.
The halfway point arrives at 45 minutes.
Articulation of intensity is balanced by the exacting smoothness. The blend glides over my palate.
Transitions are bountiful. Instead of whizzing by, they move in slow motion…allowing a general peace of mind. The finish is equally gentle. This is a very sophisticated cigar.
I can’t imagine how good this cigar will be with appropriate humidor time.
If I’m motoring strictly on potential, my final rating will consider the aged humidor time that will flesh out this blend’s capacity for growth.
Construction continues to impress. The char line is razor sharp.
Dried fruit makes an impassioned entrance. The essence of the blend still depends on chocolate, espresso, creaminess, and nuttiness.
I have a yellow Monkees tee shirt I received from Peter Tork in 1983. It will go to one of my grandsons. Unfortunately, they and their friends will have no idea of its significance.
The cigar cruises at an “I Am The Walrus” pace.
I remember the first time that Curved Air played at Liverpool Stadium. It was used for premier boxing matches. And I remember that even in the dead of winter how much the dressing rooms stunk of sweat. It was the only time I allowed Sonja Kristina to apply women’s makeup to my face. I was so embarrassed.
Sips of water flush my palate with a percussive intensity.
Strength hits full tilt.
With 2” to go, the sweet notes move to the background and allow the leaf stats to do their job.
Writing this review is a happy place for me. Nothing thrills me more than writing about a great cigar.
The stick screams out to be nubbed.
Fans of the Undercrown series will go bat shit crazy for this cigar.
Total smoke time is 90 minutes.
My sponsors Small Batch Cigar (10% off with promo code katman) and Atlantic Cigar have the cigars still in stock.
“The life of inner peace, being harmonious and without stress, is the easiest type of existence.”
RATING: 95
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS
Cigar Reviews by Phil 'Katman' Kohn 
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