The blend features a double-binder of Nicaraguan-grown Criollo and Corojo leaves placed twixt Nicaraguan guts and top-leaf a' Mexican Rosado Oscuro. If you want to make yer own at home, now that you've the necessary recipe -- try aisle-six at yer local Albertsons.
As to the ones you don't roll your-self (lazy-bones!): those are made, of course, at My Father Cigars S.A. in fab-u-lous Nicaragua. This sample right here is in the blend's Robusto format, and like all the line, 'tis nicely box-pressed.
The firmly-packed cigar is sans hard/soft spots and draws dare-I-say impeccably-so. Smoky-smoke off foot is active, but not bombarding and ye olde smoke-hole is saturated/satiated. A rather fresh tingle is on the mouth-feel. Seams hold fast and well, as doth cap and shoulder assemblage. Burnt-offerings make a solid inch of heather-grey marblings. Burn-line shows and occasional tick of self-correcting ribboning.
Tasting notes include a primary a' mucho chocolatito and darkly-sweet 'baccy. A refrained and rehearsed piquancy exhibits smoothly-ground black and red flake'd peppers sauteed in buttah. Baking spices with a nutmeg and cinnamon lead. Middlings are pumpernickel, marzipan, and cedar wrapped in supple oozing leathers. Cream. Under-belly is a composted thing with its own cocoa attachment. Hither and thither there is a certain minty-herbal lilt and more-so than that, dried fruits. Papaya and raisins. Finish is long-legg'd cocoa and grains, then longer tobacco grabs the stage. Ends more than cleanly -- refreshingly.
The pace of smoke is verily well-set. Balance is sublime. Nuances roundly build into complexities. A back-loaded pepper-spice influences the on-coming smoking progressions. Quite rich and weightily-so, but not in a burdensome manner. Full like a meal at a restaurant with tablecloths, not like a restaurant where you speak yer order into a clown's mouth. Decadent, but the diners are all so svelte and pretty. I regret my business-casual dark-grey sweatpants to a certain extent; my formal black hoodie saves face.
I did not expect one a' these mal’akh to whip out an accordion. The clarinet celestially voices a rousing Shalom Alechem rendition. Man, the strength she picks-up. My upper-lip schvitzes and I'm not even dancing. My bad, it seems I am. What a morning!
Later, I need to go to Home Depot. Weather-stripping for my side-door.
FINAL GRADE: A+
A 90-100 B 80-89 C 70-79 D 60-69 F 0-59
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"Too Wet to Burn"