Wrapper: Nicaraguan (Corojo ’99 Jalapa)
Binder: Nicaraguan (Corojo 2012 Estelí)
Filler: Nicaraguan (Criollo ’98 Estelí, Corojo ’99 Jalapa, Corojo ’99 Condega)
Size: 5 x 49 Robusto
Strength: Medium/Full
Price: $13.00
My cigars received 5 months of naked humidor time.
BACKGROUND:
Released November 2022.
250 cabinets of 200 cigars released.
Cigar Aficionado gave it 92 in February 2023. That’s 85 in other parts of the interweb.
According to Luxury Cigar Club:
“Warped has been teasing this new project for a while now. All the details have been released and we are counting down the days until it’s arrival! Upper Realm uses tobacco from Aganorsa Leaf’s farms in Nicaragua and was designed to highlight tobacco from each growing region. It is wrapped in a Corojo ’99 leaf that is from the Jalapa growing region in Nicaragua, along with a newer varietal Corojo 2012 binder from Estelï. The filler leaves are as such, 50% Criollo ’98 from Estelí, 40% Corojo ’99 from Jalapa and 10% Corojo ’99 from Condega.”
THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
Not a wisp of air is available. My trusty PerfecDraw thrusts its sharp barbs into this tubular tobacco snausage. It takes a 3 second prod and now I have nothing to complain about. Now what. I’ll smoke the cigar.
Familiar ground. That’s OK. A sharp tingle to my tongue tells me Corojo and Criollo. This dominates the first few minutes. The cigar asks am I rich enough. Am I a pretty girl. On its way.
A distinct melon and smoked ham flavor that cracks me up. Am I having a stroke. Nope. The palate working with the brain is something unknowable. What I do know is that when a reviewer sits down and writes about a cigar blend, a dense focus takes place that is different from just staring at the tube and lighting up a random choice. For me to enjoy a cigar, my brain shuts off. I don’t taste those casual flashes of flavor bits the way I do when I put quill to parchment. The latter is merely a form of expressing an impression that, as long as I pay my dues to WordPress, will live in infamy.
A sip of coffee. The morning cigar. Like morning sex? Smoking is easier and requires passive involvement. At least that’s what I remember.
Eddie Munster and I were both young men in our 30’s when we became business partners. No one in my social orbit was immune from alcohol and substance use…but for most of us, they were phases. We matured, got older, and moved on to mortgages and hating our bosses. A few years ago, Butch got clean and I’m happy for him. I have this one bizarre memory…His wealthy King of Gardena Poker Palaces dad died from cancer, and Butch didn’t want to attend the funeral. I talked him into it, but the condition was I go with him. The church was full of gamblers and whores. That same day, the will was read. Millions went to Butch’s sister. Eddie Munster got bupkis…nada…nothing. Butch never forgave me. On the chasing chicks front, I did dive in headfirst at wooing his gorgeous and newly rich sibling. I had a chance but lost out to her beau David Hasselhoff. OK. So, my chances were close to zip. The moment I stood next to him in the mirror, I threw in the towel. I fled the scene in slow motion…my breasts akimbo.
Strength is meted out at an immediate medium/full. No fucking around.
A very slow roll. Small cigars are often deceiving. I like that they bat their eyes while hiding behind their illusory length and girth. I don’t care for giant rhomboid cigars because experience has taught me they are more wishful thinking than the real deal. Or the Real Don Steele.
And then the fudge packing begins at ¾”. Caramel, BBQ meat, heavily malted, very dark chocolate, black pepper, fatty prunes, marmot sauce, and cinnamon toast. Nice.
Immediately after typing ‘fudge packing,’ a broadening depth hits my incredible shrinking brain. There is a crackling sound that is simply a primal alert that the smile on my puss is there for a reason.
SureSeal technology my ass. The massively humid conditions in the air seep into my humidors. The same goes for extremely dry weather that finds me packing more Boveda packs into my cigar sarcophagusssses. A week ago, I smoked me some of these Upper Realms and there were no burn issues. The last couple I smoked were overly plump…all from different humidors. Either you burp the lid of your Tupperdor or you find frustration with your seemingly airtight encasements. I know I’m not the only one.
In ’75 I was leaving the Fender Sound House on Tottenham Court Rd. I grabbed the glass door, but it didn’t move because Paul McCartney was on the other end of that door. I stared. He stared back. He said, “Can I come in, mate?’ I let loose of the door. Sir Paul entered. I stood there. Frozen. He winked as he passed. Frozen.
Kyle Gellis is good at what he does. I can’t imagine the fear a blender must have as he experiments with dead bushes. They are dependent on best guesses. Sure, if you work for Boeing, it’s no big deal. But for someone who asks their customer base to give them a big thumbs up it must be scary as hell. I prefer to be the asshole who casually says yea or nay to his base.
The halfway point just screams laughter. I love the transitional road this blend takes. The market is flooded with Nic puros. So few know how to make them work. The Upper Realm reminds me of Padron but at half the price. I taste Tat, Smoking Jacket, Liga Privada, and Viaje at their best.
Individual flavors are irrelevant. Readers skirt over them like the boiler plate of a subpoena. There are magical words like ‘richness, complexity, and depth’ our brains seek out in the ramblings of textual form. Every reviewer perambulates to fill the page. Smokers don’t give a shit about our need to sound smart. You look for consistency of opinion. Is there a quantifiable belief that a cigar is good for our soul? We are asked by cigar manufacturers to put our money down and smoke their wares. Back in the day, it was simpler. A good $6 cigar was had by all. Now it’s a car payment.
Strength reaches full tilt. My hands tremble on the keys. Without the help of hallucinogens, the screen blurs. I did peyote only once. I hate vomiting.
When you’re free falling like a bullet with a parachute on your back, there is unquestionably no sense of flying. You feel like a supersonic boulder rushing towards ground zero. It is a rush like no drug I ever took. I’ve always been afraid of heights. When your feet are dangling from the open door of a plane, that fear goes away because you are entirely confident that you’re going to die. Of course, if you fuck up, at least it’s over with quickly. No one lingers after hitting the ground at 125mph. Dust to dust. Ha.
Sometimes, a cigar is one of the greatest ways to pass time. This has been one of those times.
You can purchase this cigar from sponsors Small Batch Cigar (10% off with promo code ‘katman’) and Luxury Cigar Club (15% off with promo code ‘katman’).
RATING: 96
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