Wrapper: Nicaraguan Corojo ‘99
Binder: Nicaraguan
Filler: Nicaraguan
Size: 6 x 52 Toro
Strength: Medium/Full
Price: $13.99

My sticks have been on a nude beach in downtown Milwaukee for 3-1/2 months.
The sticks were released in February 2023.
Only 2750 Boxes of 10 Cigars were released.
Factory: Agricola Ganadera Norteña
THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
The cigar is tight and as hard as a mummified tampon. I grab my PerfecDraw draw adjustment tool and snake the miracle stainless steel micro blades through the dense forest of tobacco. I screw the 4” aluminum shaft into the cigar in a clockwise motion. Right to the hilt. (I feel like a Templar). I remove the shaft by unscrewing the blades counterclockwise so that it brings the offending detritus with it into the world like a newborn babe. The plug falls into the ashtray like a snowstorm of tobacco dust. And now we have a breathing, functional cigar. Thank you, ladies and germs.
The cigar is a heavy beast. This might take a while so just scroll down to my rating and be gone with you. I couldn’t take reading me writing incessant nonsense for more than two minutes either.
I torch the foot with my 9-year-old S.T. DuPont Maxi Jet lighter than has proven trustier than any Xikar I’ve ever bought.
It has a closed foot I did not see. Fireworks erupt. I grab a cutter and remove the silliness and start again.
Immediate creaminess. A solid medium strength. Cocoa, café au lait, cinnamon, mild black pepper, malt, and a lovely finish that tantalizes my palate with thoughts of fairies. (My recording studio was right smack dab in the middle of the gay section of downtown Long Beach. When I walked from the recording studio building to the rehearsal studio building, I did my best John Wayne walk to impress nice looking girls passing by. As I look back, that may not have been the best imitation to ensure that I was straight. Plus, I was thin, neat, nice haircut, pretty face. I was doomed.).
So far, the Supreme Leaf is darn good, pards.
Richness grabs hold just like you grab hold of your johnson while you sleep soundly. Yes, I know you do this.
I read a couple reviews and there was trouble in River City.
I hope I got some good sticks. Yesterday’s review of the Saka Dondurma was such a disappointment that I didn’t wash my face all day.
The burn is re-living the Pleistocene era. (Approximately 2.5 million years ago. I was just a teenager.)
The blend ain’t linear. It improves with each puff. I slow down as I did growing up during the Ice Age. The richness is like a sumptuous cheesecake with graham cracker and butter crust. I make a great sugar free version but then I gain 12lbs in 3 days.
The finish is heavy on the sweet side. Not treacly sweet…charmingly sweet. The savory comes from the tobacco which tastes nicely aged although I found no info that anything extraordinary was done with its time on the planet. Must be the Aganorsa leaf doing its job.
Sweet tea shows up. Honey too. This stick is turning matzoh into dazzling gold leaf. Sorry for the pun.
The reviews I read were very meh about this blend. But I need to consider that cigar industry sites are very punitive with their ratings. A 91 is something to jump for joy over. The sticks were released in February and one review I read was end of April. They must have much better palates than I possess.
Construction is solid. The char line is a tad bit wonky; but overall, it is behaving nicely…very much like when Sammy the Cat is cold and crawls underneath my covers at night and lays his head on my naughty bits. Cats can be very useful.
Complexity is sailing along an icy pond. It drags a gorgeous richness that wreaks of graham cracker, cinnamon, Suzy cream cheese, with a side of malted milk balls.
1-1/2” sacrificed to the fire gods in 25 minutes.
Strength remains at medium. But I sense a storm a ’comin.
The first sweet spot plotzes on my palate and won’t let go. I tase it.
My boss is coming over this morning to check on my usefulness. The state pays me a Dust Bowl rate of dough to be Charlotte’s sole caregiver. A lovely Ukrainian nurse. She brings the conflict right to us in person and it’s heartbreaking.
See. I could have told another story about a friend being murdered, but I chose not to. Golf clap.
I’m having a good time with this cigar blend.
Reese Wynans is playing “Crossfire.” When I was in a power blues trio in the late 90’s in Phoenix, I always looked forward to this song on the list. Reese was SRV’s keys player. Now he plays with everyone.
I love the heft of this love snausage. The richness is doing the Mashed Potato on my brain while my palate does the Hully Gully.
2” burned in 40 minutes. Well, you can’t beat this reasonably priced Viking funeral boat with a stick. It somehow made sense to me when I typed it. At my age, it is hard to distinguish wisdom from senility.
Smooth my dears. Smooth as a 25-year-old girl’s ass. I do remember that even though it was 40 years ago.
Sips of water and I get a refreshing clean taste from the tobacco. No dilution of the flavor profile…rather, it sharpens it.
If I don’t take a time out from typing, this will be a 2500-word tome. So, time out. Let the Ronnie Earl station play incredible blues tunes, the clean 55-degree air is streaming in, I kick back in my office chair, and space out with the cigar. Spacing out is an old Hippie term. Look it up in your Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers dictionary.
The flavor profile is gorgeous…deep fried in a coating of bottomless richness and complexity that is indelible.
The giant cigar band comes off without causing a lightning strike of mental illness on my part.
The halfway point arrives at one hour. I tell the mules pulling this cart to take a break and we eat some Psilocybin. After a few minutes, the trees melt all around us.
Killer blend. Makes me want to try on all my old rock n roll tee shirts…size L. Ha. I look like a Mississippi bootlegger.
Charlie Musselwhite. The greatest blues harp player of all time. Junior Wells and James Cotton split second place.
Creaminess, graham cracker, cheesecake, malty lager, cinnamon, brioche, sweet tea, a scoche of hickory, black pepper, hot cocoa, lemon rind, and mint.
Strength hits medium/full.
Ever play a supertonic Dorian scale when you should have played a subdominant Phrygian scale instead? Me neither.
1996. My band competed in The Phoenix Blues Society contest. We came in second.

If you can find this stick, grab a bunch.
The strength becomes deadly with 2” to go.
Sammy the Cat jumps up on my desk and just stares at me. You’re not supposed to stare back at cats. But Maine Coons are the dog of the cat world. All rules are thrown in the trash bin. But it is a little unnerving.

Complex, depth, richness, flavorful, and enticing. What else do you need? Maybe a knee replacement but I politely decline.
Not a hint of heat or harshness as the cigar buries itself in a shallow grave.
Great 2-hour cigar adventure.
RATING: 95
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Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS