Wrapper: Dominican
Binder: Dominican
Filler: Dominican, African
Size: 5 x 50 Robusto
Strength: Medium
Price: $12.00
Factory: Kelner Boutique Factory, Dominican Republic
My cigars have three months of naked humidor time.
BACKGROUND:
From Luxury Cigar Club:
“Jopito Gallo Indio is a deeply personal creation from Hendrick Kelner Jr., rolled at the esteemed Kelner Boutique Factory in the D.R. Made in honor of his uncle, this cigar is both a tribute and a statement of legacy. Crafted for his cousin, the son of the man it honors, Gallo Indio channels generations of family tradition into one vitola.
“Expect a refined profile, rich with subtle complexity and balance, a hallmark of the Kelner touch. From first light, waves of cedar, toasted almond, and delicate florals unfold, evolving into warm spice and lingering cream.”
THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
An ordinary looking cigar. It is too light. I don’t like light. But it smells good. Notes of Dominican floral, honey, milk chocolate, caramel, and baking spices.
The PerfecPunch works like a charm on this tan angel. The blow hole is revealed in all its missing protuberance.
The cold draw is acidic. I don’t like that. And with almost zero flavor notes. This does not bode well.
At light up, the taste calms me. Big fat notes of floral honey. Caramel and banana find a way from cigar to brain. A short journey.
I taste the Kelner touch. And the cigar goes out. I use the Humidimeter. 65%. More than acceptable. So now the onus is on the roller.
This is my third test cigar. I will reveal the results of the first two shortly.
The burn gets a little wonky. Oh crap. Nice smoke output. I take a sip of my morning Mad Dog 20/20 to ease the anxiety. Done. Where was I? Dunno.
The char line requires a touch up or things will get out of hand.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch…the blend tastes pretty good. Smooth and full of promise. But can it overcome the construction issues? Dame Charlie Schink reviewed a couple of Cubans this weekend and had similar problems. My blog is now cursed. Thanks Charlie.
The cigar begins to burn too quickly. Flavors continue to be enticing and favorable. A fluid dichotomy.
I did not have burn issues with my first two sticks. But the blend was awful in the early stage. Some cigars heal themselves. Some don’t. I don’t know which the Jopito is. It tastes 100% better but now burns like a house afire. This is confusing. Another sip of MD 20/20. Where was I?
I was only 24 years old. It was the night before the U.K./European reunion tour began and I got a surprise in the dressing room after our first London gig. I was tasked to be Sonja’s secret caregiver who would monitor her morphine withdrawal. Despite being a musician, this was the first time I was in the face of hard drugs. The crowd I hung with were pot smokers and acid takers. My charge was making sure that she injected methadone three times a day. The rest of the band were not to know about this because they swore that if she ever did that shit again, she was gone, girl, gone. This tour was designed to pay off Curved Air’s huge tax bill. When the drug began to wear off, her withdrawal symptoms kicked in.
An inch and a half in and the blend tastes more than pleasant. It has the Kelner profile of great balance, serious depth, and nicely transitional. It helps that the cigar slows its burn. The cigar plumps from the heat.
I need to kill time while the cigar moves along its journey.
For weeks on end, I endured this unwanted responsibility. I was young and was finally in the cat bird’s seat of a big touring band and was getting paid handsomely for doing so. To add more shit on top of shit, she was suicidal and I pulled her back from the brink countless times. She finally got off that stuff but never showed gratitude for what I did for my efforts. By the time that tour ended, I was this close to a nervous breakdown. A year and a half later, it was Sonja who told me (on the phone) that our agent Ian Copeland was on his way to my flat to fire me. Now, that’s real gratitude. So yeah, I carry a grudge. Darryl Way told me I was tone deaf at our last band rehearsal. I was not. But he was an accomplished concert perfectionist violinist that had no patience for teaching. If I asked him to play a riff slowly on his keyboard, he shook his head in disgust. He may have been the impetus for buying my first fretless, and recording with it professionally, four years later. Hall of Fame drummer Hal Blaine would not have taken me under his wing if I was tone deaf. I carry that shit forward too. I don’t know why it bothers me 50 years on.
The char line self-corrected as inch two ends. Things are better in Wally World. A big floral aroma matched by its flavor. The caramel banana (What man hasn’t used this metaphor in the bedroom?) is strikingly delicious.
Casdagli comes to mind. So does Fuente. I’m pulling for the cigar because it’s only $12 before promo codes. I’d love to have a bunch of successful Jopitos in my humidor, so I won’t have to spend nearly twice for what I like. This is a perfect morning cigar. And maybe it’s why I didn’t care for the earlier two. I smoked both with food and drink in my belly. The Jopito may be only truly discernible as your first cigar of the day.
Hal Blaine got me session dates. I had to learn to sight read on the fly. I know how to read music, but sight reading is the scariest thing imaginable. Sheet music would be put in front of me and the best of the best could play it perfectly on the first read. I would sit in with big bands and play Chevy commercials or sit there in a studio while Barbara Streisand stood behind the glass to watch me solo. Or get me dates to play with the hippest of hip, up and coming, young musicians in Los Angeles. These guys would scream out “Play Mixolydian or play a chromatic variation of the heptatonic blues scale.” I’d get a couple of chances and that was it. The stress was enormous, but Hal trusted me to not besmirch his good name because I got those gigs on his recommendation.
Except for the subterfuge of early-on bad construction, the first half was delightful. Clearly, a few months behind bars greatly helped this blend.
My entire life, I have had people tell me I looked like Rob Reiner. From the Meathead days to the present. Especially when I was heavy. The man was a gifted artist. This is a sad day. This photo was taken in 2019. I was 69.
Burn issues return. Damn my eyes. Too late.
The airflow becomes hot and a little hollow. Kelner’s quality control seems to have been missing in action. The cigar is officially inconsistent.
When I had an interview tv show, I invited Hal to be my first guest. He suggested I ask Darlene Love to join him. He gave me her phone number and then it was up to me. It was just as nerve wracking as calling a blind date. He invited me to brunches on his yacht, Studio Sea, along with some of the biggest names in show biz. Fortunately, I had the good sense to mostly keep my trap shut and listen rather than talk. I would sit there with Neil Diamond, Quincy Jones, and Herb Alpert. When Hal told them I played in a band with The Police drummer, they would nod and go back to eating their lox and bagels. So, now I’m spewing those stories in this blog. I can’t believe how young I was. When I turned 35, I went straight and only played gigs for fun with guys I wasn’t afraid of.
The flashes of brilliance and then the reality of poor rolling have a death grip. Did Kelner think he could slide because it’s only a $12 stick? I’m deep into the second half but all that brilliance has faded. Air flow is hot and too airy.
Flavors have been milked and discarded. There is no joy in Mudville.
My throat feels the heat. OK. I’m calling it. A rotten way to start the new week.
RATING: 83
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