Cusano Xclusivo perfecto
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My cigar geek tricked me into this one.
Our local B&M is the big mama to a bunch of baby stores. One is a quarter mile from me, in a working class neighborhood, with a selection to match. Another is about five miles from the office, in a high end neighborhood, with a selection to match. These baby stores don't have anyone but the cash register gal, nobody who knows anything unless you happen to hit them on the day a guy comes from the mama store to restock. What I do, I go to the baby store and call the geek on duty at mama store when I need to know. So I'm up at the high end baby store hunting ammo for a bomb, I spot a bundle of 25 Ashford Bentley churchill maduros for sixty bucks. Lighter than most maduros, oily marbled wrappers, with the cello getting yellow from the oil. Looking for a new bundle of dailies, so I call the geek, ask if I can find just one or two to try before I commit to 25, and he says, no, that's not for me, he knows what I like, he's got what I need to try. Can't find it there, so I make a trek that evening to the mama store to try one or two. Hands me an orange box. Can I try one, I ask? He says no, the store owner doesn't want to break a box because every time they do that people come in and scoop them all up. I'm thinking, uh, yeah, so they sell, what's the prob? But I already trekked all the way down there, so I go ahead and spring sixty bucks.
Trust your geek. That's what he's there for..
Don't you love the figurados? You know you it takes artistry to roll the darn things. And look at the skin on this one. Art in your hand, buddy. These they call preferidos grande, but they're a perfecto shape. Damn pretty. Tan color, fine veins, skillfully shaped, firm throughout. An odor like a distant tobacco barn. There's a bunch of those barns up in Amish country, and late in Summer when we ride by one on our puttering beemer on the way to a covered bridge, and the alternate planks are all propped out to air the shed, and you can see all the leaves racked out on poles inside, well, what a fine fragrance that is. That is this; dead ringer. It's tough to uncap these perfectos with a knife. You'd really want a cutter for these tapered ends; but I've got this knife obsession going, which works great with everything else, so I struggle along. I cut the second one way better than the first. It's a tight draw, unlit, because you are fighting both tapers. The wrapper tastes a bit bitter and a bit salt. Now to light this gem.
Easiest light in your life. All you have to fire is the little end of the far cone, so, it's a half a match job. It's got a mild bitterness and a lot of cream to start. But as the cherry climbs up the taper here comes a crescendo of cream. Just delightfully smooth. Even though it's mild, though, the near taper appears to concentrate the flavor wherever you point it in your mouth. But the best part, the best part is the aroma. It's a pleasure just to have this thing sitting on the edge of the workbench. It fills the garage so pleasantly. Wow. Hey, if you get to smoke one of these, pour yourself some good rum. Not your Don Q headache, not your Bacardi mixer, but a good aged ten year Appleton or that rum from the bent bottle, I forget its name. This is a cigar that likes rum. Now, I know there are all kinds of reviews praising the complexity of a cigar; but, me, I like a consistent smoke. I don't want to be surprised half way through. I want to know an hour later it's the same thing. This is. Creamy tobacco barn end to end. Cuban-Connecticut hybrid. Long ash. Don't hit it too hard or you get some dirty ash tray out of it. A slow draw. That's the ticket. Makes you want to chew the end, it's so good.
Afterwards, the stinkfinger was elusive. Wish it had been stronger. Morning mouth was quite mild too, and no wheeze either.
So here's where the sumbidge mama store geek tricked me: There are only 15 in that box. He knows dang well I gotta go back. That's nowhere near enough. I no more finished the first one than I had to fire another next day. I look round the internet and nobody seems to have them. The few who do want anywhere from a buck twenty to a buck sixty a box. He knows I'll be back. Tricky bugger.
Four and a half stars.
Our local B&M is the big mama to a bunch of baby stores. One is a quarter mile from me, in a working class neighborhood, with a selection to match. Another is about five miles from the office, in a high end neighborhood, with a selection to match. These baby stores don't have anyone but the cash register gal, nobody who knows anything unless you happen to hit them on the day a guy comes from the mama store to restock. What I do, I go to the baby store and call the geek on duty at mama store when I need to know. So I'm up at the high end baby store hunting ammo for a bomb, I spot a bundle of 25 Ashford Bentley churchill maduros for sixty bucks. Lighter than most maduros, oily marbled wrappers, with the cello getting yellow from the oil. Looking for a new bundle of dailies, so I call the geek, ask if I can find just one or two to try before I commit to 25, and he says, no, that's not for me, he knows what I like, he's got what I need to try. Can't find it there, so I make a trek that evening to the mama store to try one or two. Hands me an orange box. Can I try one, I ask? He says no, the store owner doesn't want to break a box because every time they do that people come in and scoop them all up. I'm thinking, uh, yeah, so they sell, what's the prob? But I already trekked all the way down there, so I go ahead and spring sixty bucks.
Trust your geek. That's what he's there for..
Don't you love the figurados? You know you it takes artistry to roll the darn things. And look at the skin on this one. Art in your hand, buddy. These they call preferidos grande, but they're a perfecto shape. Damn pretty. Tan color, fine veins, skillfully shaped, firm throughout. An odor like a distant tobacco barn. There's a bunch of those barns up in Amish country, and late in Summer when we ride by one on our puttering beemer on the way to a covered bridge, and the alternate planks are all propped out to air the shed, and you can see all the leaves racked out on poles inside, well, what a fine fragrance that is. That is this; dead ringer. It's tough to uncap these perfectos with a knife. You'd really want a cutter for these tapered ends; but I've got this knife obsession going, which works great with everything else, so I struggle along. I cut the second one way better than the first. It's a tight draw, unlit, because you are fighting both tapers. The wrapper tastes a bit bitter and a bit salt. Now to light this gem.
Easiest light in your life. All you have to fire is the little end of the far cone, so, it's a half a match job. It's got a mild bitterness and a lot of cream to start. But as the cherry climbs up the taper here comes a crescendo of cream. Just delightfully smooth. Even though it's mild, though, the near taper appears to concentrate the flavor wherever you point it in your mouth. But the best part, the best part is the aroma. It's a pleasure just to have this thing sitting on the edge of the workbench. It fills the garage so pleasantly. Wow. Hey, if you get to smoke one of these, pour yourself some good rum. Not your Don Q headache, not your Bacardi mixer, but a good aged ten year Appleton or that rum from the bent bottle, I forget its name. This is a cigar that likes rum. Now, I know there are all kinds of reviews praising the complexity of a cigar; but, me, I like a consistent smoke. I don't want to be surprised half way through. I want to know an hour later it's the same thing. This is. Creamy tobacco barn end to end. Cuban-Connecticut hybrid. Long ash. Don't hit it too hard or you get some dirty ash tray out of it. A slow draw. That's the ticket. Makes you want to chew the end, it's so good.
Afterwards, the stinkfinger was elusive. Wish it had been stronger. Morning mouth was quite mild too, and no wheeze either.
So here's where the sumbidge mama store geek tricked me: There are only 15 in that box. He knows dang well I gotta go back. That's nowhere near enough. I no more finished the first one than I had to fire another next day. I look round the internet and nobody seems to have them. The few who do want anywhere from a buck twenty to a buck sixty a box. He knows I'll be back. Tricky bugger.
Four and a half stars.
“It has been a source of great pain to me to have met with so many among [my] opponents who had not the liberality to distinguish between political and social opposition; who transferred at once to the person, the hatred they bore to his political opinions.” —Thomas Jefferson (1808)
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Comments
You're standing in a smoky room and there's smoke all round your face ... of course you're going to inhale. Doesn't mean you're sucking it in like Dad's Lucky Strikes. But you can't avoid getting some. That's part of it.
I try to include the before, the smoke, and the after in every review. The after includes that delicious stinkfinger whereby I savor flavors the rest of the night, that morning mouth which can really enhance my coffee, and whether I get a wheeze. Wheeze may vary from the slughtest constriction to an odious bubble. But I don't see where a review can be complete without the anticipation, the smoke, and then the reminiscence.