Wrapper: Nicaraguan (higher priming)
Size: 6.5 x 52 Toro
I’ve had these cigars running wild and naked in my humidor for two months.
Tobacco comes only from the Garcia farms.
Boxes of 12.
Total production run of 60,000 cigars.
The blend is an homage to the original 2012 release and was given a rating of 96 by CA. And rated as CA’s #1 Cigar of the Year.
THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
I found several reputable online sources that named the wrapper incorrectly. Everything from Ecuadorian Connie to Alaskan Sumatra. The press release from My Father stated that the wrapper is the same as the original…but using a higher priming; i.e., therefore, ergo…the wrapper is Nicaraguan. These errant sites should increase their quality control on their tech writers.
There. Got that out of the way. I’m a husk of my former self; but this husk still has its sharp edges. No idea what that meant.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day. My dear kraut wife, Charlotte, has always had a deep affinity for the Irish. But then I’ve come to realize that since this woman was born, raised and educated in Germany might explain this. Her long dead aunt, saying shortly after we were married, “A Jew is now in our family. God has forgiven us!” And Charlotte’s father, who croaked at 53; a year before I met his daughter, must have had a bizarre talent of foresight. Probably a Nazi during the war. He must have had a prescient vision. And yes, I am available to do my best impression of Gilbert Gottfried as a clown for German birthday parties. I can read the entire Torah while using flashcards of the Nazi elite to see who remembers who.
I’ve been doing extensive psychotherapy lately and Dr. Strangelove has done an amazing job with me.
I think I’m back.
Let’s see how this ridiculously expensive cigar fares.
The cigar looks good, feels good, and the punched cap allows for a wind tunnel of free flowing air. I had my PerfecDraw draw adjustment tool (https://theperfecsmoke.com/) at the ready but it seems that fear has permeated throughout the cigar industry and no cigar wants to be penetrated.
Very fruity dry draw. Lots of shit going on. I could describe it…but why? I don’t know you well enough for that kind of intimacy.
I put on Amazon Music on the Van Morrison channel and the first song is Billy Joel’s “Piano Man.” Someone put a Luger to my temple. There is some oddly twisted poetic-ness to that statement.
The blend starts with a bang. Oops. (Put the Luger down, Kohn).
An odd complexity that I don’t remember from other Flor De Antillas I’ve smoked.
There is compost pile of sweet things that overwhelm any savory bits at the start of the cigar’s journey to death.
Now if you are going to charge $40 for a $10 cigar, it better blow your panties off. So far, my panties only have a loose waistband.
I get some mild burn issues. Nicht gut, meine freunde.
Red cherries, sweet cinnamon, barley malt, bananas with brown sugar and melted unsalted butter, oatmeal, a scoche of black pepper, very definitive cedar, and Sudetenland grass.
I’ve burned 1-1/2” in 8 minutes. At this rate…wait, let me get out my slide rule…the cigar is on a short journey of only 35 minutes. What? Someone check my math.
The burn continues to be erratic. Oy.
The cigar is certainly under filled. Damn. No wonder these babies are still for sale. And I couldn’t find a single review…just a video review that sings its high praise.
Could this cigar be one of those intolerable acts against humanity I’ve heard so much about? Was Pepin Garcia asleep at the wheel and some intern blended this?
The complexity, at 2” burned is not making impressive forward progress. Double damn.
No wonder Amazon Music is pelting me with such lousy songs. Gotta change the station. Save the Flor.
I play the 2023 Van Morrison release of “Moving on Skiffle.” Fingers crossed.
C’mon you mother fucker of a cigar blend that is priced at $40…move your lazy fucking ass!
I should be in clover with a big shit eatin’ grin on my face by now. Instead, I’m lying in the pig sty screaming slurs about being kosher.
The original Flor De Antillas was a good $8-$10 cigar. Quadrupling the price because Garcia used a higher priming isn’t creating movie magic. Bring in the CGI folks.
At least the char line has self-corrected.
I was telling my therapist that I can’t stop jerking off while I write reviews…
Or was I?
Honest to Eichmann, the cigar’s complexity is exactly the same as its introduction. Flavors are delicate. The finish has some black licorice, black pepper, and spicy cinnamon. Transitions are minimal to the point of being stuck on the 405 freeway at 3pm.
At nearly 3” burned, the cigar shows some guts and makes some jumps into a different time and place thanks to its ability to shape a wormhole. (See what jerking off does to your mind).
I believe I’ve hit the first sweet spot of this sorely inadequate $40 cigar.
The quick retreat of the tobacco into the ether has slowed down some. Nearing the halfway point and it seems the bulk of the tobacco was stuffed into the cap end. 25 minutes. That’s better…but still.
You know if you have non-ending discretionary cash, you can buy several of these to smoke before a review. Me? I had to be surprised on the first one.
And this ain’t nothing about needing extended humidor time because 2 months is insufficient. No bullshit like that comes to mind. It is what it is.
Strength is supposed to be either medium/full or full. From the start, the cigar has lived in the world of medium blends. It picks up speed now and hits the bullseye of medium/full.
The char line remains in my approval side of my brain. Although, my detractors claim I sit on that organ.
The complexity digs its feet in at 3-1/2” burned. Its depth widens. Nicotine shows up without an invitation.
This is a nice cigar. But for $40, I’d rather go to the store and buy a tough top sirloin steak…with enough dough left for a tiny russet potato.
Sips of water and now all I can taste is baked potato with all the fixings. Must be that acid flashback I’ve waited for decades to arrive.
The finish is the best thing about this blend. It fills my giant open maw with flavorful, but non-distinct elements, my taste buds cannot identify.
The irregularity of the way this cigar was rolled pisses me off. And you know I don’t piss off easily. At least, that’s what I tell my therapist. She buys into it. Even though I hold a derringer to my head the entire session.
The second half is better. How’s that for a compliment?
The new Van Morrison album is fucking great.
At 4” burned, the strength hits full tilt. Black pepper goes bat shit crazy on my palate.
Poignant flavors are so undefined that I’d need to get drunk to figure out what the hell they are.
The water tastes better than this cigar. It only cost 35¢.
Maybe the blend needs endless months of humi time. Maybe I should have been taller. Either way, the rolling is shameful.
This woke shit everywhere around me is intolerable. And I’m a lifelong Democrat.
The wrapper is disrobing. Fucking great.
Although, I do have the windows open so 20-degree air may have had an influence.
Forward progress just isn’t in this blend’s DNA.
The cigar defies all known physics and actually lasts an entire hour.
What a huge disappointment.
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS
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