I'm expecting a big smoke. Stomach's full. Let's do this.
LET'S DO THIS
The Cigar:
Valentia Cigars - San Andres
Negro San Andres Mexican Maduro wrapper
Peruvian Viso binder
Ligero/Dominican Republic/Nicaragua Viso filler
6 x 56 Grand Toro
Pre-light:
The band is affixed and then some. The Schrade Old Timer is employed with a surgeon’s precision, and we are free to move on from there after noting that Valentia’s choice of design looks better suited for a motorcycle company of some sort.
My sniffer sniffs quite a dose of heavy hardwood, dark dark tobacco, and an almost sort of canned red fruit in heavy syrup.
Fairly toothy and well-oiled, the wrapper is free from major flaws, yet it remains rustic a la veins, not seams. The packing is tight end of medium and very even. The head is quite firm and square and does not lend itself readily to a bite. Again the Mighty Mite is employed. This time with a sturgeon’s precision. I have seen pictures of sturgeon and their pointy nose things. I imagine they can be quite precise.
I digress.
The cold pull is almost purely cinnamon with a far off backing of accompanying sweet spices of nutmeg and possibly cardamom. On a late summer, fall-like evening such as this, pumpkin spices come to mind.
Light:
Toasting the foot lets loose a healthy helping of hardwood. The first warm pull is of this hardwood and the finish is of deep tobacco and warm sweet spice bite. Quite deep and quite warm for so early into this offering and I thank the stars for the Taco Bell resting in my gut.
The light is a tad stubborn, but comes along well enough. A bit like a car sans power steering. The draw too is a bit tight, so I open it up by cutting off a tad more of the head. I am greeted kindly for my bissell finaglings. A mouthful of sweet spices is joined with black pepper and a finish similar to that of a strong coffee’s, sets up shop on my palate.
The burn is even but for one hiccup of a spot which burns wildly faster than the rest. I shall allow it to fix itself in the
1/3:
This is not the kick in the pants I was expecting when I read this offering’s profile. Much room is left here in which for nuances to appear. I await their arrivals. Holding their places, in the by and by, is an almost dusty mottling of what might be yet to come into delineation.
Thus far there is dark sweet spices of the aforementioned notes and a deep tobacco that while toting glimpses of depth, too lack a certain strength -- a certain complexity. The burn straightens some, and I straighten the rest. A slight cream begins to take form, particularly on the retro-hale.
The ash piles up slow and thick. The smoke output is heavy and kind to the nose with hardwood notes and rich tobacco. If this offering must flirt with being one-dimensional, at least it’s a nice enough dimension.
My main complaint here is that while the pull is not tight, it is quite wispy -- like sucking through a straw with a crack in it. This makes me somewhat less hopeful that the cigar will open up and show me something more.
The cinnamon has mottled into the sweet spices and now the sweet spices, in turn, are threatening to mottle into the dustiness. The construction is loosening as it warms, but also not breaking in. I stand by my previous power steering analogy.
We shall see. I would like to eat my words in the
2/3:
The ash has yet to clump off or show one iota of an intent at doing so. Unfortunately, the dusty haze has officially swallowed the lone remaining sweet spice note. I am left with a deep tobacco abyss.
“... for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.” Nietzsche
That gaze back at me would find more nothingness, I’m afraid, than Heidegger would know what to make of. Thus ends our philosophy course. I gave you all As -- not you, Valentia. Not you.
I flick the ash at a hefty length and it clumps hard and solid into the dirt around my roses.
Let’s talk about the importance of focusing on blending more than marketing. Let’s too touch on sizzle being good, but steak being all the better. Finally, let’s talk about a singular rather depressing dimension, imagine if you will, where I am only ever sitting on my porch smoking a cigar and not being favored by a harem of redheads with creamy breasts and full lips.
Sigh.
3/3:
I had paired this Mexican ode of a stogie with the aforementioned Taco Bell. I shall now sip freely from my Diet Pepsi and focus on external pairings. Tom Waits and the vaudevillian Dark Cabaret would be too much here -- and big band too foreign in this context. I think Tejano but then I glance at my new shirt. A white textured dress shirt. A sharp dressed man.
ZZ Top.
I have decided to fiesta, mi amigos. I have decided too, that the cigar does not always take center stage in a proper pairing. I will stop writing soon. I have just eaten the worm in a South Texas dive with a row of Harleys out front and a puddle of standing water just off the left side of the bar.
I left my Valentia in an ashtray somewhere. I forget where. I forget where.
Nota Final: Si minuso
(Now kiss me under the mesa, senorita.)
Negro San Andres Mexican Maduro wrapper
Peruvian Viso binder
Ligero/Dominican Republic/Nicaragua Viso filler
6 x 56 Grand Toro
Pre-light:
The band is affixed and then some. The Schrade Old Timer is employed with a surgeon’s precision, and we are free to move on from there after noting that Valentia’s choice of design looks better suited for a motorcycle company of some sort.
My sniffer sniffs quite a dose of heavy hardwood, dark dark tobacco, and an almost sort of canned red fruit in heavy syrup.
Fairly toothy and well-oiled, the wrapper is free from major flaws, yet it remains rustic a la veins, not seams. The packing is tight end of medium and very even. The head is quite firm and square and does not lend itself readily to a bite. Again the Mighty Mite is employed. This time with a sturgeon’s precision. I have seen pictures of sturgeon and their pointy nose things. I imagine they can be quite precise.
I digress.
The cold pull is almost purely cinnamon with a far off backing of accompanying sweet spices of nutmeg and possibly cardamom. On a late summer, fall-like evening such as this, pumpkin spices come to mind.
Light:
Toasting the foot lets loose a healthy helping of hardwood. The first warm pull is of this hardwood and the finish is of deep tobacco and warm sweet spice bite. Quite deep and quite warm for so early into this offering and I thank the stars for the Taco Bell resting in my gut.
The light is a tad stubborn, but comes along well enough. A bit like a car sans power steering. The draw too is a bit tight, so I open it up by cutting off a tad more of the head. I am greeted kindly for my bissell finaglings. A mouthful of sweet spices is joined with black pepper and a finish similar to that of a strong coffee’s, sets up shop on my palate.
The burn is even but for one hiccup of a spot which burns wildly faster than the rest. I shall allow it to fix itself in the
1/3:
This is not the kick in the pants I was expecting when I read this offering’s profile. Much room is left here in which for nuances to appear. I await their arrivals. Holding their places, in the by and by, is an almost dusty mottling of what might be yet to come into delineation.
Thus far there is dark sweet spices of the aforementioned notes and a deep tobacco that while toting glimpses of depth, too lack a certain strength -- a certain complexity. The burn straightens some, and I straighten the rest. A slight cream begins to take form, particularly on the retro-hale.
The ash piles up slow and thick. The smoke output is heavy and kind to the nose with hardwood notes and rich tobacco. If this offering must flirt with being one-dimensional, at least it’s a nice enough dimension.
My main complaint here is that while the pull is not tight, it is quite wispy -- like sucking through a straw with a crack in it. This makes me somewhat less hopeful that the cigar will open up and show me something more.
The cinnamon has mottled into the sweet spices and now the sweet spices, in turn, are threatening to mottle into the dustiness. The construction is loosening as it warms, but also not breaking in. I stand by my previous power steering analogy.
We shall see. I would like to eat my words in the
2/3:
The ash has yet to clump off or show one iota of an intent at doing so. Unfortunately, the dusty haze has officially swallowed the lone remaining sweet spice note. I am left with a deep tobacco abyss.
“... for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.” Nietzsche
That gaze back at me would find more nothingness, I’m afraid, than Heidegger would know what to make of. Thus ends our philosophy course. I gave you all As -- not you, Valentia. Not you.
I flick the ash at a hefty length and it clumps hard and solid into the dirt around my roses.
Let’s talk about the importance of focusing on blending more than marketing. Let’s too touch on sizzle being good, but steak being all the better. Finally, let’s talk about a singular rather depressing dimension, imagine if you will, where I am only ever sitting on my porch smoking a cigar and not being favored by a harem of redheads with creamy breasts and full lips.
Sigh.
3/3:
I had paired this Mexican ode of a stogie with the aforementioned Taco Bell. I shall now sip freely from my Diet Pepsi and focus on external pairings. Tom Waits and the vaudevillian Dark Cabaret would be too much here -- and big band too foreign in this context. I think Tejano but then I glance at my new shirt. A white textured dress shirt. A sharp dressed man.
ZZ Top.
I have decided to fiesta, mi amigos. I have decided too, that the cigar does not always take center stage in a proper pairing. I will stop writing soon. I have just eaten the worm in a South Texas dive with a row of Harleys out front and a puddle of standing water just off the left side of the bar.
I left my Valentia in an ashtray somewhere. I forget where. I forget where.
Nota Final: Si minuso
(Now kiss me under the mesa, senorita.)
Epilogue:
(Now kiss me under the mesa, senorita.)