Wrapper: Ecuadorian Connecticut ~ Aged 20 Years
Binder: Nicaraguan
Filler: Nicaraguan
Size: 6 x 52 Toro
Strength: Medium
Price: $32.00
Released: October 2024
Quantity Released: Regular Production
Factory: Tabacalera AJ Fernandez Cigars de Nicaragua S.A.
My cigars received 4 months of naked humidor time.
THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
As a hobo in training, I’ve never been very kind to overpriced cigars. But then I could be just passive aggressive because I don’t have Dr. Rod’s lifestyle.
Snorting the wrapper contains mild aromas of grape gum, floral, sweet butter, freshly baked bread, barnyard, and pepper notes.
The cigar is built solidly. Staring at the wrapper, it is a marvel that this light-colored leaf is 20 years old. It is oily and shimmers like a sunbathing Mother Theresa.
The cold draw is spot on. While my chain gang of PerfecSmoke cigar accessories hop on one foot, and then the other, because they want to show their worthiness…I drop to my one good knee and sing Kaddish to them. They tip their little fedoras and retreat to their…er, wait…the flavors are again mild with notes of butter, bread, black pepper, tart lemongrass, caramel, floral, and mushroom. My brain pedals hard in the pseudo fear that another event is on its way, so I better smash it all in before it’s gone.
Fire meets foot and my taste buds go Bozo crazy. Lawdy, loads of flavor: caramel, sweet butter, sugary lemonade, white pepper, and sauteed psilocybin.
Nice smoke output.
How often does a cigar hit you in the puss with immediate complexity and refinement. Almost never, right? I smoked my first test cigar a month ago. There is just no other way to detect a blend’s ripeness. Was it similar to this morning’s stick? Of course not. Damn. Testing the waters can be very expensive. I give laudatory marks for reviewers who aren’t afraid of telling their readers how much humidor time they gave the cigars before putting pen to paper. Too many rush it because they want to be too cool for school. Have I ever rushed it? Hell, yeah but not very often and I always tell you that I did. If you want to know the truth, look at the date when the reviewer published his review, and then backtrack to when it was released.
Throughout middle school, there was a history teacher who had serious narcolepsy. It was during one of his long naps in 3rd period where the first crush of my life, Leslie Fischman, stood up and declared that The Beatles were fab. What? I was a Beach Boys fan as was every other kid in SoCal. She took out her tiny battery-operated transistor radio and dialed in 93 KHJ. The Real Don Steele. Nonstop Beatles. A few months later, they were on Ed Sullivan, and I was transfixed. Fast forward a dozen years later, I found myself on the phone speaking to Beatles’ publicist Derek Taylor asking him to confirm or deny that a guy presenting himself to me as a member of Badfinger was who he said he was. After half an hour on the phone, Taylor promised to get back to me. He was a man of his word. The poseur’s body is still encased in jellied eel in the Tower of London. Cycles.
Strength hits medium without pause or thought. The pepperiness is a tad too strong, but it is nitpicking because so far, the blend is screaming laughter.
The solidity of the stick re-embosses the notion that once heat is distributed, the cigar fattens up like a spring lamb. Of course, it is up to you to paint your doorway with rama lama ding dong blood.
Only one thing comes to mind when sophisticates, like you bums out there, see two hours of enjoyment ahead of you…and wonder will this thing of ours stay the course. A false start that implies your cigar experience will be better than sex, mirrors end of the road dreams and then fails miserably in the last third. Nothing takes the wind out of your sails like that. Except maybe seeing your cable bill has charged you three times for a porn flick that you only watched once…for 11 minutes.
The money shot for this blend is the double decades old wrapper. What happens if you choose to shove the cigar into your humidor and allow it to sleep for a year or two; in order to let the guts sleep it off? Imagine paying $30 for a cigar and the wrapper wilts during storage. Do you give it 3 months or not? I don’t know. No charge for this paragraph.
Inch #2. The flavor profile feels canonized and, as such, halts transitional changes. Nice richness with subtle complexity. As I mentioned, glamorous first puffs may be deceiving. Damn my eyes.
In the late 80’s, I was running a construction job at Edwards Air Force Base. Security was everywhere. As it was a 2-hour trip, I decided my pregnant wife would enjoy the ride as well and keep me awake due to our 5am departure. At the base, I found myself constantly distracted as I watched several unidentified stealth bombers flying above us. My initial thoughts…we were about to be executed in a dank basement for witnessing these hidden war planes. I took out my camera, started snapping, and no one said a thing. I used my space age calculator to write directions to where I thought we might be buried in the ever-growing desert. There was no swarm. So, being the fucking moron I’ve always trained to be, I asked what those things were? All claimed ignorance. As the day ended and we said our goodbyes a smirky military cop said, “Did you get some good photos?” For the next three nights, I stood on a chair with a rope dangling from the overhead fan and the other end wrapped around my neck. Not a quick end, but it would be decidedly better than what the Men in Black would do to me when they burst in and Will Smith slapped me until I finally gave up the location of my photos. No shit, I threw my camera away. Not just the film, the whole camera. The following week back in the office, the ironworker superintendent was passing his photos around. He is now the prime minister of Greenland.
If I were blind tasting this cigar, it would be a gracious 90 for the first half. Regardless of my critics’ constant reminders, I stay connected that it was a $16 sixty-minute run. I would rather be smoking a Stulac.
I feel the earth move. A temblor? The Nic binder and filler mellows and moves in synchronicity. It may have been a fatal flaw to use Nicaraguan guts. A twenty-year Ecuadorian Connecticut wrapper needs more than a perfect complement of tobaccos. They may have overthought the balance required. The blend feels out of balance with a genteel buttery wrapper and with its impetuous interior. I could be wrong.
The second half is coming together, and transitions begin. This should have occurred in the first half as well.
Not a lick of harshness or bitterness. Smooth as the tushies on my shaved ferret collection. I keep the scalps intact.
Flavors remain the same: creaminess, sweet butter, white pepper, bread, tart lemonade, mushroom, caramel, and mild milk chocolate. This is pretty much the same profile as a Dominican blend with Connie wrapper. For half the dough.
There is something about the Montecristo moniker; regardless of its heritage being Cuban or non-Cuban. Rarely do the blends excel to the quality of staring at the sun.
The last couple of inches do well under scrutiny. It is consistent. Smooth and mostly refined. Transitions should have been more in play. This is a great $16 stick.
Time to use my self-guiding homeopathic stun gun on myself because I spent $64 on two cigars I didn’t go gaga over. OK, minus the katman code…$57.60.
For my regular readers with budgets, I recommend passing. For you guys that don’t know what to do with your money, try a few.
You can purchase the Montecristo M in 4 sizes from sponsor Small Batch Cigar. Take 10% off with promo code KATMAN.
My apologies for a run on review.
RATING: 90
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