C'mon, baby don't you wanna go
C'mon, baby don't you wanna go
Back to that same old place, sweet home, Connecticut?
...One and one is two, six and two are eight...
and this is a cigar.
Casa de Garcia Connecticut Shade Wrapper - Churchill
Quite simply, quite brilliantly, this is a cigar.
This is not a pouty French girl who says no when she means yes. Nor is this cigar a garbageman who refers to himself as a sanitation engineer. This cigar is as stereotypical as an Asian mathematician with several blemishes on his driving record. For that, I salute this cigar - I salute this cigar in the form of deeming it my everyday stick, my go-to stick. If you have a problem with this cigar, my friend, you have a problem with me. I will go rounds on behalf of this cigar's dignified reputation. Did I mention this cigar is only a couple bucks? Cigar.
Let us further begin.
Pre-light there are no pretenses, no promises. This is not a cigar, like its somewhat unfortunate Gary's House cousin, that charmingly sees its mouth write checks that its ass can't cash. You will notice mellow sweet notes which are reminiscent of tobacco. They will not fade. From tip to nub, they will be there for you like my dachshund Ruby is there for me. Always and forever.
[You might be asking yourself: is it stranger to write an ode to a cigar or to a wiener dog? Or perhaps I am just projecting.]
The light is effortless, mild, and sweet. I have made mention that cheap, or beginner cigars, are ironically not beginner's hands appropriate. I mean there that they take a somewhat expert hand - this cigar is the exception to that ironic rule. You cannot fuck up this stogie. You cannot over/under smoke this. You will not need to unplug or blow it out. You will simply need to breath.
As with the Casa de Garcia line in its workingman aplomb's entirety, there are many a Brother of the Leaf who will compare this to Montecristo seconds. I feel that is doing this particular offering a disservice. I do not get from the cigar in my hand, that it has any delusions of grandeur. It is as real as real gets.
The first third - I can only reiterate, and will so again, that there are no complex notes. There is sweet, there is mellow.
The second third...wait...is that vanilla? I believe I detected vanilla. I stand corrected and I stand in awe of this inexpensive and honest cigar. Actually, I not only stand, I walk. I putter around my yard. I sweep my porch. This CG likes a walk as much as my Ruby.
Let me discuss further, this vanilla: it does not hint ahead to its own coming. It simply arrives. It is the guest who knows that it always welcome to come knocking at your door. It is not the guest that talks you into entertaining it and then shows up with a six pack of beer it should know you don't like because it has already made that mistake many times before. "Hey broseph, I picked up some Coronas!"
Before embarking on the third half, let me delve further into this beer analogy. Many a beer snob will review an American Pale Lager. They will cite its lack of complexities, its lack of whatever 'artisan' is, its mass produced overt regularities...but they will also and begrudgingly cite its immense drinkability.
This stick has immense smokabilty. I am not hipster cool enough to say this begrudgingly. I applaud it.
Now, the third half: Third verse, same as the ferse. You guessed it, sweet and mellow. The vanilla notes come and go in a smooth, playful manner. They very well might be an undertone of vague caramel here at the end. The smoke stays cool and it is never a laborious chore to ingest. It does not dare you to drag, it bends over backwards on your behalf.
Pairings I'd suggest would range the spectrum from water with a twist of lemon to medium roasted coffee with cream and sugar. This cigar can well be equated with the blue blazer of a gentleman's wardrobe. It goes with everything; as long as you don't try to pair it with pajama bottoms.
Although this smoke would work great in pajama bottoms. I do think I'll have another tonight.
A negative. I should write a negative so as to maintain my critic's license. If you don't subscribe to the keep it simple, stupid approach to philosophy - this is not a valid option for your humidor. Also, as with CG's other offerings, the ash is flaky. I somehow managed a one inch (and rather ugly) burn on this one, but I wouldn't promise that to always be the case. For the most part, the flakes mingle nicely with the dandruff on my cardigan. The wrap, too, is far from perfection. There will be blemishes and bumps. There will be character.
Character - if you don't like this stick, I question yours, kind sir.
Final Grade: A-
