Wrapper: Nicaraguan Habano Criollo Sungrown
Binder: Nicaraguan Jalapa C98
Filler: 3 Different Nicaraguan Visos, Dominican Republic C98 Hybrid Ligero, US Connecticut River Valley Broadleaf Ligero
Size: 5.625 x 48 Corona Gorda
Strength: Medium/Full
Price: $17.99
My cigars have had a few months of humi time. They disappeared immediately. So why review them? Because I have them. And this should be fun to review.
Plus, Andrew Considine told me that this is the second time the blend was released. Which means that there is a good chance they will return.
BACKGROUND:
From Small Batch Cigar:
“We’re very excited to introduce a bold new liga from Steve Saka, exclusive to Small Batch Cigar! What follows are some words from the man himself on how he crafted this beautiful cigar and how it would go on to earn its name:
‘Barba Amarilla is the moniker for the venomous Fer-de-Lance. It is a very aggressive snake and the one often regarded as the most dangerous in Nicaragua.
‘It is an odd name for a cigar, but when I crafted the blend in early 2020, I found myself ‘bitten’ by it. Not only was it potent, but it really held my attention – there is something about its spicy, sweet cedar core that is hard to describe, yet so alluring. My first thought was ‘oh this is going to be dangerous for my wallet…’, hence the name. It is a very complex liga that includes seven different sun grown tobaccos and an unusual recipe as it is solely a combination of Viso and Ligero long-leaf tripas.
‘To temper its peppery bite, I decided to rest these longer in the cool rooms and I am so glad I did as it really allowed the flavor profile to blossom – think a stronger liga that has been allowed to age to creamy perfection. I strongly suggest you take a moment to inhale the scent of this cigar before you spark it as it has the most alluring of sweet tobacco scents, only to be surpassed by its aroma as you smoke it. Also, please don’t forget to retrohale this puro so you can enjoy a bit of its green peppercorn core.”
‘This is a sophisticated, intricate liga in a 5 5/5 x 48 vitola that is ideal for the experience cigar smoker.”
THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
Before I begin to bore the shit out of you, I want to show off a gift from my son in law. A lighter with his Milwaukee tactical unit logo on the front. On the back is a dangerous-looking operator.
There are potent aromas of peanut butter and chocolate. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup anyone? A vanilla ice cream with melted caramel and pineapple goo. This is clearly one of the problems of reviewing on an empty stomach. I think I just make shit up. I check again, and I do smell pineapple. Oh no…my 41st flashback since my last acid trip in 1975 has made me floopy.
Rich espresso is allowed through. Delicate floral notes hide behind the dead ferret. Old age. They only live to 26. You can always spot an old male ferret because his balls drag behind him while he scampers. The one that bit me in 1990, was young. So, donating his life to a lab to make sure I didn’t have rabies seems just. Although, I don’t believe he ever experienced the joy of having children. My dreams are haunted.
I twist the pigtail. No opening. A virgin. I break on through to the other side using my PerfecPunch & Stand. Voila. And the draw is how daddy likes it.
I attempt to find the start of the footer ribbon and struggle. Then I notice that I can just slip it off like a mini skirt. I understand that everyone thinks I’m just an old man living too much in the past, but you guys missed out being part of the 1960’s revolution. Mini skirts galore. Legs up to here. Girls didn’t wear bras. It’s never happened since. Woke.
All that talk about the 60’s…Amazon Music is playing The Mamas & The Papas station. Laurel Canyon, my babies.
Oh man…Delicious-o-mundo.
Downtown Milwaukee has had a bronze statue of the Fonz since 2008. They took it down in 2022…Bastardos!
The cigar reeks of nice brown things…coffee, chocolate, and charred steak.
Sweetie pie notes are composed of brown sugar, raisins, cinnamon bread, and buttery graham cracker crust.
Black pepper hangs back. Good boy.
Rich notes of the expansive leaf stats have my nebbish brain swirling. I’m being attacked like a Pink Floyd laser show at the Griffith Park Observatory in L.A.
Very complex from the moment I put lips to cap. Transitions have not crossed the starting line yet. The finish is a stew of rich flavors only your mama could make.
Construction is excellent. Half an inch burned in 15 minutes.
At 1” burned, the blend takes off for a 2032 Mars landing. Gone, baby, gone.
Complexity goes through the roof. Aged tobacco reams my palate. My colostomy bag explodes. Sammy cringes while going for the broom. He doesn’t know any better.
The balance of Savory v. Sweet is on the money, Jack.
When so many unique leaves are used, I find it difficult to find the words to describe the breadth of the cigar’s profile. So many layers. A giant onion. Each puff gently digs deeper.
I really mean it when I say Holy shit! The depth is like being thrown down an old well that is bottomless. And no one to hear your cries. The spiciness comes from a placid black pepper…but mostly spicy cinnamon candy.
Spice cabinet occupants that go from blackened seasoning to Mexican seasoning to Indian curry spices. Pumpkin spices sit in the background holding their hands up but no one listens.
Citrus enters at 2” burned.
“Good Vibrations” by The Beach Boys is playing with gusto. Perfect adjective for this cigar experience. I really get off knowing that my old bass teacher, Carol Kaye, was playing bass on that tune. So was my buddy, drummer Hal Blaine. But here is the caveat…Brian Wilson used so many studios to get the song right that a lot of Wrecking Crew musicians were used. Any idea how thrilling it is for me to call Hal Blaine a buddy? I was so blessed. Growing up in L.A. back then made it easy to be in the right place at the right time.
Off track again…
This is not a flavor bomb. The core of the profile is like a ball of plutonium. Such an intense experience. The finish is the star of the shower scene.
Strength has been medium but now at 3” burned, it is upped to medium/full. The subtle dance of its growth has gone unrecognized by my palate. Everything flows in sync. Marvelous cigar.
The flavors have been nailed shut. Nothing added, nothing deleted. It’s a roundabout with no exit.
Driving my car in London at 24 was a harrowing experience. Driving on the wrong side of the car…shifting with my left hand. And remembering how to maneuver a roundabout included a lot of girly style screaming. I eventually got the hang of it. Of course, it fucked me up once I returned to the States.
One of sixteen vestal virgins. Who were leaving for the coast. The room was humming harder. As the ceiling flew away. I just wrote that. Pretty good, huh?
Every half inch finds the blend in a circular firing squad with me in the center. Happy Together.
I do hope that SBC brings back this blend for you to try. But you gotta be quick. If you go to the SBC page with these cigars, you can click ‘Wish’ and you have a decent chance of being notified.
The char line is as sharp as being shaved by Sweeney Todd.
Oh lawdy…The Monkees. Man, I hated that band.
I struggle to allow the cigar to sit for a few minutes between puffs. My palate is a junkie for the Barba Amarilla 2023. I’m not going to list the flavors again because while they play a coordinated chorus line to this blend, it is the tobacco diversity that drives this cigar over the bridge and into oncoming traffic. Everyone survives. Although, in a few minutes, this particular cigar is going to flit away to the heavens and only be a luscious memory. This blend will stand before the Cosmic Muffin and only give its name and rank.
Before I rate this baby, I’m going to nub it without my fingers pounding away at the keys.
RATING: 96
And now for something completely different:
1990
MAN VS. FERRET
I have published this story probably too many times but I’m always adding new readers and…besides, this story cracks me up.
I took time off from being a project manager in commercial construction. It was killing me. I was 40. I was in burn out mode.
During a blood drive at my daughter’s school, they took my blood pressure. I was told “Go see a doctor. We ain’t taking your blood today.”
40 was too young to die so I had some choices to make.
I went to work, for an old friend, as a structural draftsman. In the construction trades, anyone on a board is called a “Detailer.” We took structural and architectural design drawings and first made erection drawings for the field. And from that, we broke down every single piece of steel and showed the shop how to cut and punch and weld, etc.
Having this skill turned out to stead me well later in life. I took jobs on the side and made some serious dough. Auto cad put an end to it but by then I was running high-profile jobs, I didn’t have time for a second side job. My first side job was playing bass in clubs on the weekend.
Back then, we used formulas to figure out the geometry and trig problems. Sophisticated calculators did not arrive until the late 1970’s. And ones that would do the geometry and trig came around in the late 80’s. We also had no computers to help us. We had a pencil.
I was working in Fullerton, CA. Not far from La Habra which was ritzy in places and had some hills and forest area behind where I worked.
On a hot day, with the A/C busted, we opened the front and back doors. It was a small place with three rooms in a strip mall. Each room housed three detailers. I was in the middle room.
One day, lo and behold…a ferret walked in. It didn’t seem to be afraid of us. As it walked towards me, I bent over and extended my arm. In a flash, the fucking maneater grabbed on to my forearm, with all 4 legs in a prehensile death grip, and began punching away at my skin with its teeth.
I ran around the office waving my arm trying to get the damn thing off. It wouldn’t let go. I screamed like a little girl, and no one could get me to hold still.
It finally flew off my arm and blood gushed from my arm. I started to go into shock. Did my boss or co-workers call 911? Of course not. It was just a little ferret attack. And possibly a wild ferret as we were right on the edge of the open hills and forest.
I collapsed on the floor because I thought I was going to faint… and screamed out at everyone: “Close the fucking doors! Do not let that piece of shit weasel get out!” I did not want to get the rabies series of inoculations.
My doctor was around the block. Dr. Mutter. When he saw me, he got on the phone with my boss and SCREAMED at him not to let that animal loose. I had never heard my mild-mannered doctor curse.
He bandaged my entire arm and warned me that if that ferret got loose…and then he made the motion of a needle going into my stomach…shaking his head the whole time.
I gulped the gulp of a pussy.
When I got back, Animal Control was there. A giant black man was trying to catch the elusive ferret with the long aluminum loop.
He finally caught it, and the little critter began a high screeching that made us cover our ears.
Now here is the interesting part…. The boss had this stupid, good looking blonde working for him in his blueprint store next to the drafting company. She was really stupid. But she was a looker.
She was on our side of the building, like everyone else, watching this man try to catch the fucking ferret.
When it started screeching, this stupid woman screamed, “You fucking N*****! Let it go. You are hurting it!! You fucking N*****!”
Everyone was in shock. Even the ferret shook his head in disgust.
The animal control guy dropped the stick, with the ferret’s head still in the loop…the ferret tried to make a get away with a 6’ stick attached to it….no go. It hid behind some curtains.
He asked, “What did you call me?”
And the stupid bitch repeated it!!!! She fucking repeated it!
Oh my God. What a racist cunt.
But now I’m thinking the damn weasel is going to get away and I will have 6 weeks of shots to my belly because of a race war inside the drafting company.
I begged the man to please capture and secure the animal and don’t listen to the idiot woman. He calmed down and did just that.
I walked out alone with him and apologized profusely for the act of racism that just occurred. He was very magnanimous, and gracious, and left.
I walked back into the drafting room, walked quickly up to the bitch and slapped her with an open hand.
I screamed at her, “Do you realize what you almost did? You fucking piece of shit, bitch, cocksucking kraut!. If he didn’t capture it, I would have to go through some very painful inoculations!!!!!!” And I’d make sure to bite her if I had rabies. She’d probably bum out the rabies.
She apologized as her hand rubbed her cheek where I smacked her. She didn’t have a green card, so I didn’t care. She was from Germany and even though my wife is too; and worked part time doing the books for the place, she had nothing to do with this imbecile.
Then I waited. And waited. And waited. For 10 days.
And then it came. A little postcard from Animal Control saying that the animal did not have rabies. One of the longest 10 days in my life.
I still have that post card framed and hanging in our bathroom.
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