THE CIGAR
Jas Sum Kral Red Knight
5 x 50 Robusto
Closed-foot, Pig-tailed
w. Ecuadorian Habano
b. Mexican San Andres & Jalapa Seco
f. Undisclosed
Check out my initial write-up and talkie re: this JSK offering HERE.
This is Serie II of my 18 Sabbaths project. Please read all about it HERE
5 x 50 Robusto
Closed-foot, Pig-tailed
w. Ecuadorian Habano
b. Mexican San Andres & Jalapa Seco
f. Undisclosed
Check out my initial write-up and talkie re: this JSK offering HERE.
This is Serie II of my 18 Sabbaths project. Please read all about it HERE
ACT I
Peppers seem to have calmed on the onset, as compared to other JSK Sabbaths. Perhaps because I cut the covered foot clean off. Something to be said, then, for the philosophy of a beginning wrapper-zetz? Nevertheless, I circumcised the thing and welcomed it to the tribe.
"That's terrible, but at least it's the worst thing he'll face as a Jew."
"Uhm... yeah. Sure."
Why'd I snip? Simply to prevent a curved start to burn. It worked, too, about 98%. Tick of lagging leaf is slowly catching up on its lonesome. BIG cherry cola note with an dark chocolate under-tone. Peppers mount slowly and forcefully, red leads then black. Tongue tingles. A fella jogs by my porch, dressed head-to-toe in Nike. It's pouring out. None a' that can be healthy. I nod toward him with my cigar, say "Ma'am."
Cream comes on with woods. A toasted cream and scorched cedar. Verily cedar. I can feel the strength in my head already. The body builds in creamy lip-smackin' moisture, the spit re-hydrating the beef jerky lilting on draw. Ash is white flaky sheath but dense. Line is even now, yet not perfected. Draw is a light-side of medium+ tension'd. Sugar and spice. A salted espresso note with a nicely bitter'd crema. Cordial cherry now. When I smoked the first JSK Red Knight, I told Mr. Riatevski, I said, "I bet that cherry grows with age." (Or something to that effect or affect.) It hath. It plays with nigh every note, particularly offering nuance to the sweeter bits. A note on aging these Jas Sum Kral: Flavor crystals; up and down the wrapper. (It's plume, not mold -- but I sprayed with Lysol to be certain.) A greatening sheen. A subtler yet more depth-offering profile. In short, gentlepersons: put some humi time on these sticks. Not that they ain't good right away.
Lettuce call perfected, the burn-line. Ash is growing no new flake and has yet to drop as the first act's closing looms nigh. Nigh, I sayeth! Draw firms a tick, still in medium+ spectrum. Packing softens a tick, but seams hold. Seams are actually invisible, per se. Tobacco at head stays neat. A heavy pipe tobacco room-note is lingering on the porch with me. Oh, this is delightful, truly.
"That's terrible, but at least it's the worst thing he'll face as a Jew."
"Uhm... yeah. Sure."
Why'd I snip? Simply to prevent a curved start to burn. It worked, too, about 98%. Tick of lagging leaf is slowly catching up on its lonesome. BIG cherry cola note with an dark chocolate under-tone. Peppers mount slowly and forcefully, red leads then black. Tongue tingles. A fella jogs by my porch, dressed head-to-toe in Nike. It's pouring out. None a' that can be healthy. I nod toward him with my cigar, say "Ma'am."
Cream comes on with woods. A toasted cream and scorched cedar. Verily cedar. I can feel the strength in my head already. The body builds in creamy lip-smackin' moisture, the spit re-hydrating the beef jerky lilting on draw. Ash is white flaky sheath but dense. Line is even now, yet not perfected. Draw is a light-side of medium+ tension'd. Sugar and spice. A salted espresso note with a nicely bitter'd crema. Cordial cherry now. When I smoked the first JSK Red Knight, I told Mr. Riatevski, I said, "I bet that cherry grows with age." (Or something to that effect or affect.) It hath. It plays with nigh every note, particularly offering nuance to the sweeter bits. A note on aging these Jas Sum Kral: Flavor crystals; up and down the wrapper. (It's plume, not mold -- but I sprayed with Lysol to be certain.) A greatening sheen. A subtler yet more depth-offering profile. In short, gentlepersons: put some humi time on these sticks. Not that they ain't good right away.
Lettuce call perfected, the burn-line. Ash is growing no new flake and has yet to drop as the first act's closing looms nigh. Nigh, I sayeth! Draw firms a tick, still in medium+ spectrum. Packing softens a tick, but seams hold. Seams are actually invisible, per se. Tobacco at head stays neat. A heavy pipe tobacco room-note is lingering on the porch with me. Oh, this is delightful, truly.
ACT II
All the leaves are off the trees and I am out of excuses. I gotta rake. Next week, maybe. I roll the ash off and toke into my Dollar Store hand mirror. Top-leaf/binder/fillers -- all in harmonious sync. An almond nuttiness flows into the middlings. Pack density seems to be firming back up. Molasses. Cola goes to root beer to sarsaparilla. Toasting roasting of profile continues. Earth under-belly of compost and barnyard lifts up. Profile sharpens sweetly and is balanced by a deeply robust natural tobacco-cum-aromatic.Pace is excellent. Slow and steady, yet lively so. Or at least not boringly so. Espresso note soars. A grapefruit pith is new to the lower middlings. Finish is a long, long legg'd bittersweet earthiness with draw complexities of wood and cherry. Smoke-out put I'm certain my fat neighbor can see. What I can't see is how he fits in his new Porsche. A shoe-horn is my working and best hypothesis. I bet ya can hear a damp POP when he climbs out.
Speaking of guts, the strength of Jas Sum Kral is in mine now. At the end of the second act, my upper lip schvitzes a tick. Cinnamon led spices rear up alongside a smoked meatiness. Nutmeg ain't far behind. Black pepper over-takes red. White pepper is there on the finish now. Mesquite joins cedar. Alfalfa rolls on in. Verily complex and somewhat boozy; as barley malt roasts on the immediate draw.
ACT III
Sharness leaning is off-set by a dampening of earth. Smoov, yo. Molasses turns to maple syrup when ya blow it out ya nose, buddy. Barley malts and malts, goes toward the earth bits. A plum note gets placed over top a' dat. Woods ease up and dial back. At the band, smoke stays cool and strength rises again. All notes to construction/combustion hold. Meaty creamy robustly full body and mouth-feel with a lot less tingle.I hear from my Chabad Rabbi that there's a menorah going up at the mall. I'll check it out Saturday and then take in the new Star Wars flick. Right meow, I need a pinch of sugar. Here, have an excerpt from my in-the-works book:
August 4th 2013
I went out as the funeral home workers went in. My little red house seemed too little. I needed air. I recall my wife’s voice from behind me “Take good care of my baby boy.” There were two cars parked at the curb outside my little red 4am or-so house: a hearse and a Toyota driven by the Hospice nurse. I chose life. Sat at the bumper of the boxy little car and… and… and I don’t know what I did really. Not for the first few moments. I can’t recall my body nor my brain. Then I took a cigar from my pocket T. Four and a half years of round-the-clock care. A constant state of triage if not emergency. This would be the first cigar in that long that I’d be guaranteed the time to smoke from foot to cap. Straight through. It was a machine made something-or-other cheap-O. To this day I don’t recall buying it nor sticking it in my pocket.
I sat. Still unlit. Still not in my body nor my brain.
An old checker cab pulled up in front of me.
November 22nd 1955
Shemp (Samuel Horwitz) of The Three Stooges fame, went to see the horses run during the day. At night, he went to the fights. Afterward, he sat in the backseat of a cab with his pals, telling jokes and smoking a cigar. As he did he quietly, suddenly, croaked. Easily. After a life-long battle with phobia and assorted tsuris.
What a way to go, gentlepersons.
& away we go, gentlepersons.
I climbed in and was given a cigar. I lifted mine, mumbled.
“Homogenized, pal. Scraps and glue! This here is a premium offering. Nuttin’ but long filler. Hey -- and why the long face?”
“...”
“Pal, never ya mind!” He slapped my back and cut the cap stuck it in my mouth. “I bite mine off, when no one’s lookin’.” He nudged me with an elbow. “Just a lil flap of topleaf. Heck bite -- nibble.” His voice trailed.
I sat. Still unlit. Still not in my body nor my brain.
In the back of an old checker cab.
PRE-LIGHT
"Good, pal, there ya go -- a nice couple a’ cold draws. Get a more delicate look at the prominent notes. Test the tension of the draw. I didn’t now I was dealin’ with a pro!” He laughed. The other fellas laughed. Didn’t notice them till just then. I took it from twixt my lips. Looked at it. Like a pro. Like a pro. Veins, decent so long as not crimped or wide. If they are, might be looking at a burn impediment. Toothy or not? Think of tooth as flavor crystals in gum ya chew so the wife don’t smell booze on yer breath.Actually, tooth is a typically flavorful concentration of tobacco oils. Seams. Are they tight? Sometimes ya can’t even barely see them. Sometimes they look ready to unfurl. Main thing to look for is they’re even-stevens. Smell the Wrapper. Pungent? Mild? What things to come, foretold. Smell the filler tobacco at the foot. Before snipped, was the cap set even on the shoulder? Pinch it up and down. The ol’ Charmin squeeze. Good craftsmanship is seen in lack of soft/hard spots. Smoke though soft spots fast and with minimal drawing. Massage out hard spots by massage them via a roll twixt yer fingers.
LIGHT
“Here ya go, pal.” He hands me a box of wooden matches. “Lookit this pro.” He tells the guys. Wooden matches are all ya need. Just don't bring it to the cigar till wood is burning, not the match head. You don’t need to taste sulfur. Actually, lettuce discuss bringing light to cigar. The flame never touched tobacco. Period. Toast the foot first. Let the heat of the match warm the filler. Pay careful attention to see the wrapper/binder/filler all warm evenly. What’s it smell like? Now put it in yer smoke-hole. Still, the flame don’t touch the leaf. Just its warmth take quickish solid puffs. Rotate it in yer lips. Nice. What’s that first pull taste like?Let’s retro-hale the second. Retro-haling is the act of bringing smoke up into yer nasal passage and blowin’ it out yer nose. It gets the sinuses involved. It shows more notes. Usually more more notes whenst it drops to yer palate. More more more when that doth in-turn drop to yer tongue.
“Ya can’t do it, pal?” He looks sad. “Just…"
First ya gotta pull. We ain’t discussed that et, shoulda. My apologies, gentlepersons. The proper way to draw a cigar is of course with a pencil first -- ‘cause ya can’t erase ink. “Everyone’s a comedian.” He laments. Fine. You take two slightly less quickish solid second-long puffs, then a third -- this third one is smoother a thoroughbred running 9 furlongs, not the quarterhorse sprint of the first two. Make it last 3 seconds to start. Hold the smoke in yer mouth another 3 seconds. Release.
Ah, but we’re retro-haling now. Take a proper pull and close yer yap. Don’t open it. The smoke will either come out yer schnoz or you’ll… die. That seems so inappropriate now. Back at the little red house. My son. Henry. “Hey, pal!” I snap back to the checker cab at his yell. The retro-hale. Take a draw. Shut yer smoke-hole. Put the tip of yer tongue against the back of yer front top teeth. Leave ‘em there. Lift the meat of yer tongue upward and breath out through yer Durante. You’ll get it. I mean the retro-haling. No telling who’ll get the Durante reference.
Take a third pull. The first two are maybe settling in together. You’ve seen the onset’s everything. Theatergoers have filed into their seats. Maybe take another to be sure. Ya sure? Good, we’ve started --
EDITOR'S NOTE
While posted on the Sabbath, this is an automatically generated thing, gentlepersons. These are not written during the Sabbath, but typically on a Friday noon-ish. Shabbot shalom and Gut Shabbos -- and to the goyim: hey, have a heckuva Saturday!If you enjoyed this post, please consider sharing it via the buttons below.
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