The Cigar:
Perdomo Fresco
Maduro Wrapper
Nicaraguan filler/binder
Gigante Presidente size
Pre-light: Nose full of cocoa, cumin, black pepper spices, all dark.
The pack is firm and even, the wrap shows some possibly excess vein and has the Maduro thicker, rougher feel.
A cold draw tells me this is set to be the spiciest meat-a-ball I've had in some time.
Light: The light is nice 'n' easy. It seems to want to be toasted, but not so much as to be seen impetuous and/or over-dry. The first pull shows off black pepper spices and cumin. I can't say I get anything else -- including tobacco. My lips get rough and burn.
The smoke it gives off is red peppery. The finish is long lived and quite pleasant, actually. It consists of a mellowing of the involved flavors. My eyes burn. Must be my allergies.
I'm being tested, I feel. Dared to smoke this stick.
On the third pull or so, a nuttines seems to be trying to break through. However, she stays off the porch and inside, watching Shark Week with our four year-old.
The burn is even and in the slower thirds of speed.
This stogie is not friendly to my gentle nostrils. The draw firms up a bit more and I begin to worry about sucking out my fillings, then I remember I have none -- no dental insurance. I would not say, thus far, that it both mellows as it heats, as much as it tightens and you simply inhale less.
Peppers go to my tongue, which feels like a piece of cotton thrown into a frying pan. I'm about 20 minutes in and have smoked, at the very most, 3/4" down. I'm glad I started early. I've been pulling far on the frequent side, too. Which brings me to the doubly surprising realization that I must like the taste, and that the nicotine content -- full belly aside -- might be lacking.
An inch into it now and the red and black peppers are muting and the cumin has taken its leave. The burn continues evenly, but the ash has suddenly lilted hard to one side. It shortly falls off in one completely unexpected clump and lends no small amount of character to my shirt, jeans, and right shoe. Charmed, I'm sure.
I don't feel as though I'm smoking a Maduro. I do feel as though I lasted through the rough opening rounds against "Iron" Mike Tyson, and now it's any one's fight.
The smoke barely fills my mouth and tastes only vaguely of black pepper spices. More vague, still, of tobacco or purpose.
2/3: It is February 10th 1990. I'm in the Tokyo Dome in Tokyo, Japan. I am about to upset a lot of people. People get upset when they lose wagered moolah.
The cigar is strong in spurts but laborious always. I think I'll smoke a Casa de Garcia in a few hours. if it proves to be a late night.
The pack loosens unevenly and suddenly, there is smoke everywhere.
3/3: wherein the wrapper cracks and quickly becomes a wrapper in name only. It attempts more peppers, but succeeds in bitter bite, only. I feel it is sizing up my ear with its teeth...
Pairings: Ear muffs, not accepting a challenge from #1 contender, Evander Holyfield, and cheap coffee -- cold and black. I mean if'n you wanna play up this sad stick by method of comparison.
Final Grade: F+
