Oy, did I have a day today, gentlepersons. Details are not forthcoming. Just gimme a second to lay my ash-catching schmatta across my lap...
I'm on my porch now recovering from said day with the help of a Padron 3000 Natural. It was in the corner of my humi I reserve for sticks which find their way to me a tad fercockt. Can a thing be a tad fercockt? A bissell fercockt? I digress.
There is many a time this dinged department is the favorite part of my stash. Firstly, expectations are eased. Mainly, though, because they are not up for review -- they are up for enjoyment. I recall a pal of mine and me talking a bit ago at at the onset of my cigar reviewings; "You'll never enjoy a cigar again." He lamented on my behalf. He made a decent point, too. This Padron is the first stogie in a good while that hasn't been an odd form of labor.
I speak to Doc of Stogie Fresh on occasion (pardon me as I sweep up this mess of name droppings. I always have a dustpan at my side); Doc constantly reminds me that this is a labor of love. I get that. But I also get to this day, images of my dad dragging his Parkinson Disease'd limbs off to work every Monday through Friday in the New York City Transit Authority at every 5:30am, just to get to that ten year tier of retirement fundings. That, gentlepersons, is labor.
Love is what I feel for Ruby Vondella when I buy her a sweater hoping it'll stretch to cover her mini dachshund derriere when the temp dips below 60 degrees.
Passion. What this 'cigar lifestyle' thing we share is passion. From where cometh thine passion? Why, from the same place that tells me a cigar is never a disappointment. You have a cigar and the time to smoke it. How could this lead to disappointment? It cannot.
My son has been dead for two years, He was four and a half years old when he died in our living room. Four and a half years of constant bedside vigils, tube feedings, and missed milestones of growth, development, and awareness. I don't know that I smoked a cigar in that time. When he breathed his last breath in my arms -- I smoked a cigar minutes after. Not all the way through, and I have no idea of what it was or how it got to me. I know it was cheap-o. Machine made, perhaps. You see, my family was fairly poverty stricken then. Medical bills mounted and work outside of the home for Mrs. K and me was nigh impossible.
I am now at the end of the opening third of this Padron and it's been all pepper and nice long finish of cocoa and coffee. Creamy but not overly sweet mouth-feel. Tight pale ash. Very nice, if not somewhat one-dimensional.
Now, I have the time, and the cigar(s) to enjoy. The cigars. When I started this blog, it was 1/4 lark. I began by reviewing Casa de Garcia and Quorum offerings in the same manner the fancy fellas reviewed boutique blends; and quite tongue in cheek, natch. Then a funny thing happened. I began to receive sticks to review, to write-up. They came from fellow smokers, from sellers, and from manufacturers. I rapidly became a fancy fella. Although I most likely always was.
In a previous life, I was a chef, crissakes. I'll leave the kitchen stories to Bourdain, though, and stay on task. By the way, toward the bottom of this drivel are my picks for tomorrow's races at Derby Lane.
And so, here I am. knee deep in my growing passion for cigars. And at the mid/end of the Padron's second act. The black pepper quieted some, allowing cocoa and dark roasted coffee further in. Ash stay lovely and burn, just as so. Box press stays. Cream is toasting nicely. Very woodsy leather room-note and lots of thick white smoke into the stratosphere and my smoke-hole.
That's that, a bit about myself and even less about a stogie. A stogie with -full strength that's making me woozy in a fantastic way. Each cigar is a joy in that it serves to amplify that each moment is to be treasured. It's nice to know I can still feel this, and I hope you do as well. I guess that wasn't a whole lot more about myself, either.
DERBY LANE
12.10.15
7:30pm post (Eastern)
1-2,8
2-4
3-6*
4-7,8
5-8
6-5,2
7-8
8-7,8
9-7
10-1,4
11-4,6
12-1
14-5
15-6,5
(Don't bet the dough dough.)
The final act of the 3000 Natural is much the same as the second, but I was far from dissecting. Richer chocolate. More cream in the coffee, and separate from the toasted cream finish and mouth-feel. Pepper stays to offer a nice tingle. Strength mellowed half a tick. Ash is pretty but kaput at an inch, tops. Serviceable but not wow. Solid. Ask me if I was disappointed, as Mrs. K gives me a kiss and goes upstairs to sleep. As my departed Henry's baby brother Lewis is asleep in his bed. Go ahead, ask me. I double dog dare ya.
The secret, my secret, is that reviewing a cigar -- examining a cigar -- brings me deeper enjoyment of the stick and the moment. So screw you, pal o' mine. Thanks for reading, gentlepersons.
