#59 Factory Throw-Outs (& etc.)

This is bound to be a winding and long-winded post covering three cigar topics including tutorial, review, and etiquette. You see, if I keep writing, I won't have to mow my lawn.

Now either hit the bricks in light of my kind advanced warning, or settle on in for a stay. Mind if I smoke? Good. Because I've already lit my Casa de Garcia oily, leathery Maduro offering, whilest doing a write-up of a far lesser...

Cigar:
#59 Factory Throw-Outs
Ecuadorian Sun Grown Wrapper

Dominican Filler/Binder

Here is Cigars International's sales pitch of these stogies:

"These Factory Throw-Outs are so darn tasty, you’ll be left scratching your head and wondering what makes them throw-outs anyway. Slight discoloration, sun spots, minor and miniscule [sic] blemishes....that’s it. The good part is that they are a fraction of their full-priced counterparts. Straight from J.C. Newman’s Florida factory, here you’ll find tasty treasures in a variety of sizes. Each is wrapped in an Ecuadorian sun grown wrapper and then filled Cuban-sandwich style with Dominican tobaccos. No bands, no labels, no boxes, no frills – just pure, unadulterated goodness that the money-minded should be stocking up on, and often."

I'll cut to the chase. These feel like a prank is being played on me. As if "We are here at [insert name of four-star restaurant], where we've secretly replaced the fine coffee they usually serve with Folgers Crystals This Novelty Cigar. Let's see if anyone can tell the difference!"

It all feels like they're laughing at me and not with me, as I smoke them. The polar opposite experience of Cuban Rounds. By this I mean, that I don't entirely buy the premise of the situation that supposedly gave birth to the cigar in my hand. Allow me to expound:

depending upon where you look for further info re: these smokes, differing information comes at you from all angles. All the while, Abraham Lincoln's wise words remain at play in your ears, "Don't trust everything you read on the internet." -- Arturo Fuente's name comes up. The aforementioned J.C. Newman, as well. All with disclaimers ... caveats ... Same fields, same factories. Never, "Same sticks." I smell a lawyer.

House Rejects:

The truth buried here among the tactical vagueness is that cigars do exist that are sold far below their projected cost, all because of minor-ish blemishes. As a matter of fact, all houses sell these. I'm not an investigative reporter, nor do I have any designs at being one. Bearing that in mind and if pressed, I'd recommend avoiding the grey area shadiness here in these Throw-Outs, and if you want to dabble in 'rejects,' look into Montecristo "C" Rejects, with bundles selling for about 40 bucks.

These are made by, as stated in their name, Montecristo. Save the mystery for a Kinky Friedman read. The Cs are what these claim to be, and come from perhaps the world's finest cigar manufacturer. Nuff.

However, here is my promised review:

Pre-light: is this a football? perhaps judging by shape, a hot dog? Or maybe it's an oddly shaped shoe. One of those trendy barefoot things. Any of these might smell like a cigar as much as this cigar smells like a cigar.

Most notably flawed is their wrapper.  It's not just a little blemished. It's atrocious. I kid you not, a leaf stabs through the cellophane. We're not talking just a cosmetic blemish or a misstep in the otherwise artisan assembly of a premium offering...it's falling to pieces like I do every time I watch the final episode of Golden Girls. Important to further note is the material itself appears sub par and ridiculously delicate and almost pre-crumbled. Thus lending me to further disbelieve their aforementioned premise of great stock with unfortunate blemish.

A pre-light draw leads me to believe this to, in fact, be a football...another now post cap bite-off pull is somewhat of a pleasant surprise, actually. I taste cigar more so than Esq. ...

The light is a bit of a hassle. But I am for my near Herculean effort gifted somewhat of another pleasant surprise, to the tune of cedar with a bite that while not my thing, I recognize to be of better quality than I previously had thought--black pepper. I let out an audible ooohhhh. Mainly because a bronzed and pony-tailed body in Lycra jogs past my porch. An exhale through the schnozzola hints at a deepening cedar.

First third: The draw is not an easy one. Just as I was just about to complement the ash and its tightness, if falls off in a clump, shy of the half inch mark. The bite of black pepper continues on but the Cedar has wilted. Said bite while not bitter, it is very noticeable. This cigar is turning quite daring, insofar as I feel it will soon be daring me to pull from it.

At the close of the first third, this cigar has evened out insofar as the bite mellowing. it's a very slow burning cigar. and really quite enjoyable if not utterly predictable of a cheap-o stogie. The smoke output is moderate and like the stick itself, enjoyable and simple.

Still, the way it smokes is somehow a tobacco smoking experience but not wholly a cigar smoking experience. I flick ash, pull hard and often, and taste tobacco sans decent stick complexities.

All told a very serviceable and clean yet ultimately un-charming stick void of character. As utilitarian as an Ikea bookshelf. I wonder if that explains the horrendous wrapper job. Maybe it was done with an Allen wrench - or simply wrenched by a fella named Allen, his first day working at the cigar factory.

I stop taking notes as the second third enters the final third and then fin.

The chew, just when I had hopes for a decent one, unravels (natch) and the cigar ends in exactly the fashion you'd expect at its legalese onset, without surprise. Similarly to an M. Night Shyamalan flick. The friggin' kid sees dead people. He as much as says it while looking right. at. Bruce.

Final Grade: Incomplete
(as in "This cigar left me undone." As in "How could you leave me so undone?)

Let's discuss, shall we, the topic of: 

Cigar Band Etiquette

As noted, these sticks come sans band.
"It's not my job to make you feel good about yourself." Says she.
"Yes, but it also isn't your job to make me feel bad about myself." Says he.

I get it. Furthermore, you get it. I'm broke and buying a (your) cheap stogie. Or I'm an eccentric millionaire, slumming. Either way--offer me your best shot at class. I'll gladly throw ya another part of a nickel for a band, faux class, or not. It's part of the cigar experience. The filigree of booze bottles, the ornate designs of playing card backs...show me something. Anything. It's poor etiquette to withhold this experience from a smoker. Poorer still to flaunt back at them their own shallow pockets even during an attempted respite from a world which beats world-beaters.

Don't even get me started on a lack of cigar box. Where would you have me stash my (un)valuables, kind sir?

Further cigar band etiquette.

This time in respect to the gentleman smoker. The band is for you to enjoy. The band is not for you to flaunt either your fleeting moment successes or failures. Remove it prior to lighting, whether it is a fifteen dollar Cohiba, or two dollar Las Ramblas. Thus our smoking sessions remain truly egalitarian. 

*

It strikes me now that the lawn mower is out of gas. Me too. Plus, I know of some chicken thighs that need fried.