Wrapper: Ecuadorian Habano
Binder: Nicaraguan
Filler: Nicaraguan, Dominican
Size: 5 x 50 Robusto
Strength: Medium
Price: $16.00

My cigars received a couple months of naked humidor time.

THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
I reviewed the ChiMolly Dynasty. It was OK. Smokers are drawn to shiny things. It will usually take a few trimesters before they realize that they may have been lemmings. I sometimes fall victim to the same magic.

Faint aromas of barnyard, citrus, floral, melting caramel, barnyard, Rice Krispies, and baking spices.

This clone, as far as both cigars being too light in the loafers, has a wide-open draw. For an extra $244, Dr Rod will build you a Corinthian leather shoulder holster for your PerfecDraw. Without one, you are alone in the rain. Asleep at the wheel. An unfortunate son. A welfare wife. An unrighteous brother. A single Ronette. A cheeseburger looking for paradise. Bulgur wheat on a bun.

BTW- The Pangu is widely accepted as a great cigar. Again, the lemming syndrome may be in play. No pressure.

It starts sweet with notes of caramel, sugar coated breakfast cereal, raisins, black pepper, cinnamon, espresso, malt, and cedar. This is a good start. Those flavors are a nice tease of complexity I didn’t expect.

Nice smoke output.

There is a dryness to it similar to edible rice paper. The flavor profile shifts to 40% Sweet v. 60% Savory. The Habano is not known for its sweetie pie factors. Often, you can suss out the cigar’s character in the first few minutes. A great cigar will sock it to you immediately. Lesser beings, not so much. This is me telling you that I’m not getting what I expected.

If a good cigar doesn’t pony up in the first few minutes, it will probably do the hokey pokey in the second half. Who doesn’t like a sweet spot? But this is a $16-$18 stick. Fucking around has not been pre-approved.
I’m cranky.

1965. My parents took me and my kid sister on a two-week trip across the western states. My dad rented a large travel trailer that he pulled behind his 1964 Chevy Biscayne company car. It was summer and hot as hell. The Biscayne had no a/c. Despite our whining, we weren’t allowed to ride in the trailer. But it got so hot one day that our droning wore our parents out. We were somewhere near bum fuck egypt when my father miscalculated. We heard the train. We saw the long train running. I guess my dad thought he could beat it to the crossing. I still have the mental photograph of that locomotive…missing the trailer by inches. My dad stopped the car, opened the trailer door in a rage, and screamed at us to get back in the car. He was mad at us for allowing him to kill his only children. Fortunately, I brought my 5-string banjo along so at the camp sites, I could sing sad songs of death and parricide. My dad had no sense of humor. Not often in life do you get to see a train hurtling directly at you at 55mph…allowing you to count the cow feathers on the catcher? The Idaho Gazette headline would have been: ‘Jews Wiped Out by the Glory of God.’

Just like yesterday’s Dynasty, I’m getting burn issues.
Mass hypnosis of the proletariat is not unheard of.

There is zero richness in play. I have a long way to go but due to the hoopla, I thought I’d be pleased as punch. Have I mentioned that I’m a cranky old bastard.

I gotta put torch to foot or it will be a runaway.

If this was an $11 stick, I would not be ranting. Well, maybe. I can’t change who I am.

Generally, construction issues can be on you and me. It’s a natural sentient being we’re messing with. Unless it is a consistent issue and your other cigars laying next to the perpetrator are just fine. Then it’s on the manufacturer.

Super Hint: I accidentally bought a passel of 84% humidity packets instead of my usual 69%. I discovered that one 84 will take the place of two 69’s. This synthesized mistake works beautifully…and saves me some dough.

Not only was I blessed with the opportunity to take bass lessons from Carol Kaye, but I was also fortunate to take lessons from legend Chuck Rainey (Ray Charles, Joe Cocker, Aretha Franklin, Steely Dan, Dizzy Gillespie, and others). I was required to read and he tested me. He didn’t laugh…right away, that is. I didn’t have to buy music books from Chuck like I did with Carol. Instead, he made copies of charts for me to play. I had a binder 5” thick. He got me a few dates and I met some cool players. Chuck is still around at age 84. He retired in 2020. It’s not easy playing rolling lines when you’re arthritic and cranky. Me too.

Flavor points don’t need to be out front, but if the cigar misses its opportunity to be refined and complex, it’s gotta come up with something.

Two inches in and there is improvement. I hope this ain’t a long shot.

After a couple years driving on the left side of the road, the steering wheel on the right side of the car, shifting with my left hand…it wasn’t so easy going back to muscle memory when I returned to the States. I didn’t miss the lousy food. If I had to eat one more parboiled beef roast, I would have made Jack the Ripper look like a pussy.

I’m telling you…there are great blends and then there are publicity shams. This baby is leaning to the latter. I don’t care if I sell cigars for my clients or not. SBC pays me to be me, not their flunky. That’s why they are so cool.

The first half was not a fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust and a hearty Hi-yo Silver. It was more Gilligan complaining to the Captain.

In the 70’s, the British motorway had rest stops every 25 miles. They had a 24-hour cafeteria that was a god send for touring bands late at night because food joints all closed at 10:30pm. We crossed paths with Pink Floyd one night. We were the only folks in the huge place. We ate the horrible food while telling road stories and laughing our heads off. Passing joints underneath the tables while employees watched in wonder. No one calls the cops on the Floyd.

The burn is terrible. If you are a sophisticate, listen to me. I’m being straight. This cigar ain’t worth your dough. You have choices. Manufacturers forget this when they are cranking out one clone after another.

John Lennon. “Imagine.” You had to be in the mix of 1971 to clearly understand what that song meant to Boomers. Smack dab in the middle of the Vietnam war. Great despair as Nixon led the country. Boys being killed for some far-fetched bullshit reason. I never understood why returning soldiers were treated so badly. Those were my friends. They didn’t have a choice. Bad shit happened…but bad shit happens in every war. I have two friends with PTSD so bad that they can barely speak. And both dealing with multiple cancers due to Agent Orange. Imagine.

If this was an $8 stick…maybe.

The first cigar of the day is special. Our palates are clean and jerked. I don’t like wasting that golden hour. Fucks me up big time.

Flavors are minutiae in the goldfish bowl of life. Don’t ask. I’m getting pissed off. If you love this cigar, good for you. I am happy that you enjoy it.

Jethro Tull. Occasionally, Curved Air would find themselves crossing paths with a mega band of the 70’s and we’d veer from our headlining tour to be the support act for super groups like Jethro Tull, Deep Purple, Soft Machine, or Black Sabbath. As everyone knows, Ian Anderson did not approve of drugs. His bandmates would visit our dressing room and smoke hash with us before the concert. Twice, Anderson came into our dressing room screaming at his guys while they ran out of the other door. Both times raging at us for allowing it. We told him to fuck off…we were not babysitters. He told us we would never support him again. Boo hoo. His bandmates were fun…Ian was a tampon.

The second half is better, but not much. I desperately want this baby to sing to me. But it’s only a lithpy whithper.

I don’t know why this review angers me. Probably moving on to the next phase of old fart.

I’ve met only a few people who said that music plays no part in their lives. And they were all arrogant as if saying it was beneath them. Serial killers in training all.

Everything is connected.

My friend, Erich P, gave me the ChiMolly cigars. He’s going to read both reviews and feel guilty. Don’t. An act of kindness should never be shadowed by an inevitable outcome.

I could be wrong. This might be a great cigar as deemed so by the masses of reviewers. 60 years of smoking cigars. I could be wrong.

With 2” to go, the burn finally does the mind meld.

It’s not a bad cigar. On the contrary, it falls into line of being ordinary and not exceptional. For $16-$18, this old man looks for extraordinary.

You can purchase ChiMolly Cigars from sponsor Small Batch Cigar. Take 10% off with promo code KATMAN.

RATING: 89

Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS

Tags: chimolly cigars, ChiMolly Pangu | Cigar Reviews by the Katman, cigar reviews, cigar reviews by the katman, cigars, katman, phil kohn