Partagás Serie E No.2

Wrapper: Cuban
Binder: Cuban
Filler: Cuban
Size: 5.5 x 54 Robusto Extra
Strength: Medium/Full
Price: $30.00
Box date: June 2019

THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
Lawdy, this is a beautiful cigar. The wrapper is sepia bronze. Oil oozes like Elon on a good day.

Aromas include hot chocolate with marshmallows, strong cedar, maple syrup, and wet copper penny.

My PerfecPunch smoothly does its deed. It’s rusty sheriff’s badge is poifect.

The cold draw is knock down sublime: clove, cinnamon, cedar, lemon and orange spritzer, leathery earthiness, red pepper, toasted cashews, and Coca Cola.

First puffs are doggone delicious, Jethro (Beverly Hillbillies). I met the man at a birthday party for Alan Hale Jr (Gilligan’s Captain). He believed he was Elvis with the dyed black hairdo, shirt unbuttoned to his belly button, chains galore, rings on every finger, and a couple of high-class call girls on each arm. I tried talking to him, but he must have been too stoned as he had an inexplicable thousand-yard stare.

Citrus and leathery richness, milk chocolate, black coffee, creamy cinnamon, and caramel. Bitchin.

The cigar’s strength is mild. Too mild but I’m a patient man. (I just lied).

The burn is wavering. I shall be patient.

Preparing for the Hollywood Palladium event, Butch Patrick and I met with Grandpa Munster several times at Art’s Delicatessen in Studio City. A very popular and busy place. Al Lewis loved the attention he got. Everyone stared at us. I found it unsettling as folks were trying to figure out who the third wheel was. The first time we lunched together, I started whining about the project and Al lit into me. He raised his voice and told me that if I couldn’t stand the pressure, that maybe show biz ain’t for me. I was so embarrassed. But Al let it go, and I never whined again in front of him, and he never brought it up again.

Grandpa was a star studded mensch and always insisted on paying for our meals despite me trying to wrestle the check from him. What surprised me was the reasonable fee that Al wanted for hosting the Halloween event: $500 ($1700 in 2026 dollars). I figured he was only asking a token amount because he was a good friend to Butch. Like most celebrities I met, I wish I was Al’s manager instead of Butch’s.

Smoke output is thin. The cigar is lackluster. I begin to worry. I had a reasonable fear that after reviewing the Romeo y Juliet Wide Churchill yesterday, I might be spoiled. But then every cigar I smoked subsequent to the RyJ was a huge disappointment.

Flavors coagulate. Cinnamon becomes Red Hot candy. The caramel is now every senior’s friend: Werther’s. The hot cocoa switches up to Mexican mole sauce. The citrus mellows into custardy sweetness. Baked apple shows up for the first time with spices of nutmeg and clove. Maybe the worm is turning.

The cigar won’t stay lit. First thing out of my perishing brain is that reviewing a one off is always a bad idea.

Strength surges. The mildness disappears. Medium/full shows up with no introduction. And I have a long way to go. Oh no.

At 1-1/2” burned, it seems conclusive. The cigar improves and meets my expectations. This is a highly sought after cigar and highly rated by critics.

The burn line refuses any consistency.

A cigar at this price point should include a clitoris buffing kit. Does it? No. Oh wait…

The most I can say, as the first half detonates, is that this is a very pleasant blend. But if I want pleasant, I’d rather a cheap hooker take care of me in a gas station’s filthy restroom.

Speaking of Janis Joplin…I was at the platinum record party for The Police’s “Zenyatta Mondata” in Hollywood. Hundreds of industry folk there. I found myself standing next to Bette Midler. She had no make up on and was tinier than I expected. I told her about my days in Curved Air with Sonja Kristina. And how her movie “The Rose” not only depicted a tragic figure like Janis; but the story was also similar to what Sonja went through, but with a decidedly different outcome. She was very polite and nice and then walked away and forgot about me forever. I told myself she was just overcome with my virile masculinity and had to leave, or be tainted for life.

The lousy char line is pissing me off. Lovers of Cuban cigars tend to overlook construction issues because they paid so damn much for the pleasure of their company. The burn on yesterday’s RyJ was flawless.

Complexity is mildly entertaining. The richness is in middle earth. Transitionally, the blend is balmy and placid.

The cigar won’t stay lit. Constant relighting doesn’t do the flavor profile any favors.
This may be a prime example of getting a bad stick. I hear from you all the time about concerns that something you smoked behaved poorly. I don’t purchase Cubans very often because of price points that don’t insure excellent construction…and it’s not like you can complain to the people who sold it to you.

Lighting the cigar every few minutes has put the kibosh on the thing. I’m done.

RATING: 89

Partagás Maduro No.1

Wrapper: Cuban
Binder: Cuban
Filler: Cuban
Size: 5.1 x 50 Robusto
Strength: Full
Price: $31.00

Charlie Schink slipped these cigars to me while visiting a Korean massage parlor where I have a 5% interest. Mr. Schink doth know that my lisp thuckthds in garnering conthideration at the thpa. Thith thigar better be good.

THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
The Partagás Maduro was first released in 2015. It is a tribute to the fine soldiers that participated in the Bay of Pigs Invasion in 1962. And who were slaughtered by the Brazilian Navy on their way to defend the monarchy of Boris Badenov.

Rated 91 by Cigar Aficionado. In Katmanland, that’s 1 Quattuordecillion.

The wrapper smells cool daddy-o with chocolate barnyard, light floral notes, prune broth, and Keith Moon’s breath.

The stick is plugged like yours truly after a 30-day run on excellent street fentanyl. My just say no to drugs friend, Mr. PerfecDraw, comes to my aid. I dredge up the remnants of the Titanic and still no blow hole. I go after it from the other end…something I learned in trade school. This doesn’t work either. I get serious and use a #5 piece of chipped rebar. I get enough debris into the ashtray to make a floating wicker basket for the baby Moses.

The misshapen orifice defies gravity with notations of spicy peppermint, barnyard, orange creamsicles, black pepper, nuts galore, and semolina pilchard from a dead dog’s eye.

I use my horribly overpriced S.T. Dupont lighter to get things going. I’ve already wasted 287 words. Check that…291…wait

Creamy start. I hope this Cuban bonanza, minus Little Joe, can maintain its erection.

As always, the construction on Habano MacGyvers is usually off kilter. And yet, they have a mystique brought on by the Cold War and a crazy amount of 1957 Chevy parts.

The burn is in fakakta mode. My previous sticks had the same issues. This is a poorly rolled cigar. And the good part is it prices out for you Yanqui bastards at $31.00.

The flavors are cool but not very complex. Experience has taught me to pay attention to the clues. This one screams Sucker. Cuba just isn’t very good with Maduro wrappers.

Typically, Cubanos takes years to tell the tale. I have friends who have hung on to their prize horses for 20 years and are still waiting.

The creaminess is akin to a nicely aged Ecuadorian Connie. Smooth…and maybe a touch elegant. Strength is an easy going medium. But the stats say jump back and eyes wide shut. I got nothing in my stomach except for too much coffee. I will be reporting the second half of this cigar from my favorite cat-o-nine tails purveyor HMS Jolly-Shoulda’-Ate-Sumpin’.

Transitionally, it ain’t going nowhere. It’s just OK. For $31, I want a waffle and a lap dance.

If you seek out reviews, this cigar doesn’t get the thumbs up one expects from an esteemed brand from Cuba. It underwhelms most.

These are the flavors I found from online reviews: orange peel, hazelnut and salty leather on the palate. A big note of cocoa powder builds to the spicy, leathery finish, raisins, brioche, herbs, caramel, fresh black grapes, toast, and peanuts. It’s nice when you can depend on the always impartial Cigar Aficionado.

I’m waiting. Most critique chappiess say that this blend would probably do better with extended humidor time. Is this high hopes because they shoved a few hundred bucks into the Communist cash register or because their friend Jacobo said they were a smooth deal.

I need to throw something at the wall. Curved Air always started their British and European tours in London. Our manager, Miles Copeland, always blessed us with his appearance. He was an imposing figure. He was drummer Stewart’s older brother. Stewart and I came up with a plan to pummel the man with cream pies in the dressing room after the gig. We spent days planning. And then it was show time. We grabbed the missiles. And as we were just two feet from Miles, he stared at us with his Star Wars look of imperviousness. And we chickened out. To be honest, for me it was because Miles wore a very expensive leather jacket. For Stew, it was sheer fear as Miles regularly beat the shit out of him with a rubber truncheon.
Sting (L) Miles (R):

There is subtle richness. The second half approaches. I have been tempted to cut off relations and wave my hands in the air. But since the International Elevator Constructors Union IUEC Local #32 requires 80% completion, I marshal on.

The second half lowers the boom on strength. Jeezus Alou and Manny Mota.

I get to 80% which is 4.08” and call it quits.

If you like verklempt shpilkes, this is the cigar for you.

RATING: 86

Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS