Wrapper: Mexican San Andrés
Binder: Nicaraguan
Filler: Nicaraguan
Size: 5 x 50 Robusto
Strength: Full
Price: $13.13 ($11.16 after promo code discount)
My cigars have had 3 months of naked humidor time.
Cigars were aged for 3 years after rolling.
BACKGROUND:
From Luxury Cigar Club:
“The 5th Anniversary of Luxury Cigar Club is here, and we couldn’t be happier to commemorate this occasion with our good friends at Martinez Cigars. These cigars were rolled back in 2020, just for this occasion. Only 111 bundles of 5 were produced, each individually numbered.
“Each 5 pack will be autographed by Ben and Chris, making these a great collector’s item.”
Cigars were aged for 3 years after rolling.
THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
A stout little fucker. The draw is just tight enough to remind me of when I worked the streets as a young man doling out $10 BJ’s to LGBTQNESTLES men and women. Once I had saved up for my college books, I quit.
My PerfecDraw won’t be needed.
Immediate gratification. I can taste the aging. I really can. Richness spurs falling dominoes. Complexity kicks in during the first puffs. Flavors. I don’t need no stinkin’ flavors.
Wow. Great fucking cigar. But can it continue on this path without faltering. Dunno. Yeah, I do. Scroll my babies, scroll.
One inch into this Tasmanian Devil. OK. Here they are: licorice, sassafras, uber chocolatey, great cup of café au lait, creamy, peanuts in the shell, black pepper, poblano pepper, cinnamon, smoked almonds, pumpkin seeds, raisins, and banana.
Flavor bomb alert.
You cannot smoke this cigar upon receipt. I did that and wasted a good cigar. But only 3 months later, Gonad Delight.
A friend told me that if he looked up cigar porno, my photo would be there. Ha.
If I pursued music as a full-time gig, I’d now be offering one hour $150 consults to fledgling musicians. The mighty always fall.
Amazon Music. ‘Light My Fire.’ The long version. Yikes. Played this song in cover bands in high school. Three notes for a bassist. Nap time. I sometimes threw in a fourth.
The cigar. So nice and smooth. A lovely blend all around. Flavorful. Distinct. Original. As rich as my Uncle Ulysses. Beautiful construction. Slow roll. What else do you need.
There are no more suggestions left on the flavor wheel. This blend has them all covered. I could ramble on…so, I will.
Charlotte and I had sex last night. Kidding.
Strong cigar. But Nicotine Lite. No rough edges. A great newbie adventure for those that want to challenge themselves. A welcome treat for sophisticates. Is your dog getting enough cheese.
Hey Joe. Jimi. Back in the day, why were musicians so fucking stupid about drugs.
Flavor progression. I’m not listing them again. Time is precious.
OK. I must mention this unique flavor: Mexican Mole Sauce: cumin, garlic, onion, unsweetened cocoa powder, tomato, and cilantro, orange citrus, coriander, and cloves.
The flavor bomb continues.
Very savory cigar but in such a good way. The aging sweeps your legs. It drips richness. I usually like a nicely balanced sweet v. savory blend, but now and again, I taste something in which balance is unimportant. The savoriness causes drool all the way to my bony knees.
Hors d oeuvres. (Pronounced Horse Duh-where-vays).
1-1/2” burned. 40 minutes. You thought I was nearly done. Ha.
See. LCC could have charged a whole lot more for an anniversary cigar. But Ben and Chris chose not to. In 2024, Quorums will cost $13 per stick. With my promo code, this baby is only $11. How’d he do that.
Four Sticks. Led Zep. Damn. Timeless music. Where’s my bong.
Perfect burn. Need the Hubble to measure the char line.
I miss all my dead friends.
Know what I worry about. My last post if it comes unexpectedly. Will it be a resounding beautiful review or me telling you to get some La Auroras on Cigar Page.
This blend is da bomb. Money. Fire. Dope. Awesome. Rad. Sick. Legit. Ace. Bitchin.
We were offered serious money in the 60’s to say ‘groovy.’ Never crossed my lips once.
The second half is bona fide sweet. Rich notes curdle in my ears. My nostrils flare.
I’m writing like that again. A sea of swarming simbas can’t stop me.
I haven’t mentioned ferrets in a long time.
I’d love to show you a photo of the perfect burn, but I don’t want to get out of my iron lung. A two-hour Robusto. .94mm per minute.
So creamy. I believe that Ben was a little disappointed in his blend. He was wrong. Kids.
Playing ‘Purple Haze’ to a crowd of 60’s teens caused mayhem without a hint of violence. We screamed No More War.
I can’t get the friggin cigar band removed.
For a full tilt blend, it is remarkably smooth and restrained. Not a single hint of nicotine. How did Martinez do this. No question mark.
A shame that only 111 fivers were produced. I’d like to revisit this cigar often. Do I buy some more before they are gone…you know the answer. I don’t need to pay my utility bill.
In case you fell unconscious, the flavors: licorice, sassafras, uber chocolatey, great cup of café au lait, creamy, peanuts in the shell, black pepper, poblano pepper, Mole sauce, cinnamon, smoked almonds, pumpkin seeds, raisins, and banana.
BOC is not a government agency.
Stellar. Top notch. Epic. Outstanding. Supreme. Wicked. A-1. Bangin’. Fresh. Brilliant. I don’t want the cigar to end. Regrets. Only that I waited until it was too late to add this cigar to my yearly list.
I can’t wait to see the top 25 lists. Catalog brands will be mostly absent except for limited editions. Experienced cigar smokers have veered to the cream. And cream only comes from boutique blenders. The way of the world.
Man, this fucker is strong. Sail on sailor.
As I’ve added a superfluous story at the end of this review, probably time to pack it in.
The Pompatus of Love is clearly evident.
You can snag the remaining fivers from Luxury Cigar Club. 15% off with promo code ‘katman.’
RATING: 96
And now for something completely different (Greasy grimy gopher guts):
Back in time, 1979-1985, I owned and ran a recording studio.
I owned a house in North Long Beach…a very diverse neighborhood.
But a very clean and neat area because folks took care of their homes and yards.
A friendly neighborhood. A blue-collar neighborhood.
A Filipino family lived next door with about 15 uncles and aunts sharing the abode. One elderly uncle started to mow my lawn without ever asking. All good. The man never spoke to me, even in Tagalog. I paid him to continue the chore every week.
As a thank you from his family, for giving the sweet old man something to do every week, they would bring me the spoils from hanging out at the Long Beach Pier. Without fail, I was handed a big old fish weighing around 5lbs. Totally intact. They didn’t bother to gut it. Not my thing at the time. I kept throwing them into my 1960 Amana refrigerator with a massive freezer. They piled up like cords of wood.
When I moved after 6 years in the house, I left the fakakta fridge where it stood. The electricity was turned off. And I heard that it took a month before anyone bothered to deal with the fridge that was quietly becoming a saltwater fish burial ground. I would have loved to have been there when the first person opened it and got hit in the puss with rotted fish. Good memories.
I developed a gopher problem 6 months after I bought the house. Cute at first…but then my lawn began to sink. I tried everything to shoo the varmints. Nothing worked.
An undercover cop tripped and fell from stepping in one of their holes. A bunch of cops pretended to be Southern California Edison utility workers while they tapped the phone of the people on the corner. I ran to his aid and so did the other cops. That’s when I noticed their IWB guns. I was white, clean cut, and polite. They left me alone. Not a clue that I had several ounces of weed and coke in my safe that was used for bribery in my music business endeavors. It was the 80’s. See Johnny Depp in ‘Blow.’
Turned out that a couple that moved into the rental next door sold dime bags of crack. The cops got the bad guys. I shook their hands and told them good work. I gave them cigars.
I turned into Caddyshack’s Bill Murray. I used the water hose constantly. The gophers laughed at me while spitting water from their buckteeth.
I tried poisoning them. They put the poison on Ritz Crackers.
I’d be out front, and it was like Whack-A-Mole. These little assholes would come up from their holes and stare at me. I’d run over with a shovel, but to no avail. Gophers are faster than man. I believe a gopher got the land speed record at Bonneville in 1902.
I hired an exterminator who guaranteed he would make them disappear.
He failed. He even used gas. Twice. It gave the gophers the munchies.
One day, I was doing the hose thing when I noticed a few feet away from me that a very wet and soaked gopher popped his head up coughing for air.
I took my KA-BAR knife and started slashing away like Anthony Perkins in ‘Psycho.’ I was screaming like a banshee which had folks coming out of their houses to see what was going on.
I kept missing the little fucker…because I didn’t have the nerve to look when I brought the knife down. Finally, as it seemed that the clock had run out, I stared at him in the eyes…he stared right back. I yelled like a WWII Japanese soldier and stuck the huge knife through his chest. I had skewered him like a shish kabob.
His last words were: “The Family won’t like this.”
It was hell getting my knife back from the squishy beast and I began to feel queasy.
It was a beautiful, sunny SoCal day for a murder.
I walked back into the house and sat on my couch staring at the wall. I sat there a long time.
I had sent a message of death to the other gophers.
He was soaking wet, and I didn’t want him to fall apart on me when I tried to dispose of the body. I figured I’d wait till the next day when he was a bit crispier.
The next morning, I heard the power mower plugging away. I looked out to see my neighbor doing his thing. I didn’t see the gopher…he got rid of it for me. I was going to tip him when I got home from the studio.
As I got into my 1972 Bentley, I waved and nodded to my neighbor who responded with a huge toothless smile.
I came home about 5 hours later for a nice homestyle lunch, and I noticed something on the lawn.
It was gopher burger. The neighbor just ran over and over the little dead critter until the lawn was one big feeding ground for wild dingoes.
That act of duty must have scared the shit out of the millions of gophers that made my lawn their home because I never had a single problem after that.
I was GopherMan before I was KatMan.
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