H.Upmann Magnum 46 Tubo 09.....On the Waterfront

I was in New Orleans last weekend, and as it always seems to be, I found myself someplace I did not want to be as a cooperative measure.  My host's in-laws wanted to go down to the Treasure Chest Casino on the shore of Lake Pontchartrain and spend some of their hard-earned money.  I am not a casino person.  I believe that once you have money handed to you, you do not turn around and throw it in the street.  That's what I did with my first paycheck.  I remember it well.  I had worked all week for 88 dollars and some change.  I took it out of the envelope ( I was paid in cash) and put it in my pocket.  Later on my short walk home, I must have wanted something out of that pocket, and as I took it out, my money must have fallen out onto the ground.  And it didn't stay on the ground long.  I found my money gone 4 minutes or less later, and by the time I retraced me walk back the half a block to the store where I worked, it was gone.  


So now that you know my deepest rooted money regret, you can see why I do not throw money in the street anymore.  BUT I AM an adult, or I am old enough to gamble anyway.  So I went to the Casino and took $100 with me.  I would rise to gambling glory or sink to shame with that stipend.  Because I am the biggest loser, and because I was going into a casino with professionals, I took the Magnum 46 and a Hemingway Short Story.  I would need something to do after I got reamed for my $100....quickly.  Because these people do not leave just because Sad Sack lost his money.  They play until they are ready to go home.  I should have brought a box of cigars.


I got down to my last $20 in 20 minutes before roaring back to $120.  So I was ready to go home after that hour, haha.  I tracked down the girls and found them steadily playing away.  I took my extra 20 and sat down at a crowded Roulette wheel.  I threw that 20 away in two plays.  I went and found Eugene hammering the poker machine for a couple 4's of a kind in rapid succession.  Not going to mess with HIS luck.  


So it was Saturday night, no sense in me playing any more table games.  I headed back to the slots.  I slid one of my cashout tickets into the machine and quickly lost that.  SO I was down to 60 again, and I wanted to preserve the moment.  I decided to bail for the cigars.  I gave notice of my intentions, and headed out to the moorings.  It was a crisp, cool night in New Orleans, certainly a treat for a boy that was raised to dread any and all weather in that city.  A year in NO is 45 days of bliss wrapped inside 320 days of abuse.  You love it for what it is, not how it is.  


I lit up the Magnum 46 and was treated with a acidic tang and pop of power right to the chin.  It balanced out in a few puffs and became a mildly-flavored tobacco core with light tea and twang flavors, but not a lot of flavor changes.  I needed to make this last a long time, so I could return with my 60 bucks and look like a successful gambler the next time anyone checked on me.  So I drew sparingly on the stick, and it rewarded me with a beautiful burn, smooth draw and ample smoke.  For a tubo, this was really performing nicely.  It's humidity was a BIT high which muted some of the flavor, but it was not suffering any for the extra moisture.  There are no "detecting" moments to discuss, I did not uncover any subtle nuances, nor do I think it was particularly "olivey" or salty.  But it was a solid smoke with good flavor.  It was not going to make me get excited, but it helped to pass the time in a pleasant fashion.  I watched people come and go down the gangway and contemplated my return to the casino floor.  I decided to use my time-tested strategy, to creep up behind my friends and thus ruin their luck to the point where they would be tempted to call it quits.  While I did change some luck for the worse, they hung on.  So I sat down and played some more.  I quickly lost my $60 and became a player's nightmare.  Someone who hangs around nearby and watches.  Waiters hate it, security hates it.  I could care less.  You should be able to tell I am broke and ready to go home, lol.  I COULD have taken my credit card along, or the extra two hundreds I left in my shaving kit at home.  But I am nothing if not a gambling realist.  I know what time it is.  I am not going to lose my good money no matter what I hold in reserve.  Looking back I should have slow-played, and will next time.  I will not bet the max on every spin, even thought I know that when YOU DO hit something good, you should be in for the max bet available or you waste one of the few big payoffs that machine is going to make that day.  Another hundred would not have brought me any closer to beating the house.  I would just be down $200 instead of $100.  I sat next to machines and watched people pour money into them for nothing, and by the time I was ready to swoop in and collect, I was also out of cash.  On one machine, it would have only taken one pull's worth of jack.  It paid out 200 bucks like it was giving away candy.  For want of two bucks, I lost two hundred.  Cest' la Vie


The cigar was a good thing on that night.  I must score it, so I give it a 82.  It was good, it was not a pain in the butt on construction, and it enhanced the surrounding moment.  But the flavor needed to be better. It was a diversion, an enjoyment, and a moment in time that was more pleasurable than painful.  And in New Orleans, that's a pretty good thing.

2010 Partagas Super Partagas

I need to state from the outset that these are cheap cigars.  In  the grand scheme of habanos, they are the hamburger to the steak of the really fine big boys.   But they are, since 2003-5, also every bit as hand made as the biggies, so they have a lot to prove.  In any event, you could find 4-5 boxes of these for the same price as a single box of expensive Cohibas.  And in this review, you will find out what a great buy that would be.

I was in Ohio for "the" herf.  I was expecting to see a friend named Scott, whom I always see up there since hs is as close as Chicago.  SO when another Chicago area friend handed me a 5 finger bag of  Partagas Supers and told me they were from Scott, I thought, cool, I will thank him later.  Well in a nutshell, they were NOT from THAT Scott, but another whom I did not even expect to see there.  So Scott, and you know who you are, I appreciate these sticks.  You already know what I think of them, and a fiver off the top is a HUGE treat for me.

It has been 6 months since I got them, and I decided last night to pull one out.  I looked out from one of my windows to see a hot cafe' au lait girl who lives a block away...she was out walking her dog to the east, and I knew that if I chose my beer and cut my cigar and got downstairs I would have plenty of time to see her when she got back coming West.  But I must have been side-tracked for too long upstairs, because I smoked the cigar and drank my beer on the front stoop and did not see her again.  But ehh, no matter.  It's not like she thinks much of 250# me.  I used to be 190 and old.  Now I am fat and old.  But it was more FOR ME to see her, as she is about 6 feet, not an ounce of fat, and all fine.  But I digress, pathetically so in fact.

These Super Partagas are terriffic cigars.  I have said it before, all of the formerly machine-made cigars that have become hand made that I HAVE HAD A CHANCE TO SMOKE have been just fantastic.  And these are a super value, too.  They are reminiscent of a thinner Partagas Short, both in length and in smoke body.  They are not nearly as stout and peppery, but the peppery core of Partagas IS THERE.  Where this cigar shines is in it's sweetness.  If you liked the Short, but think it needed an added dimension, THIS is your cigar.  It is about an inch and a half longer, a little thinner, and is loaded with creamy, spicy, nutty, sweet flavor.  A delicious core of rich tobacco taste with pepper, and this bouquet of extra flavors as fleeting nuance.   In fact it reminds me of the resultant cigar were Partagas and Trinidad to have a baby.  Maybe that tells  you what to expect more than anything else.
The cigar drew and burned and performed like a dream.  I could not think of a single negative thing about it.  It was a gorgeous colorado shade, and oily and smooth as silk.

Once it became clear that the little half and half girl was NOT coming past, I got a little edgy and thought of all the news I was missing upstairs and then I heard a bird call I had never heard before.  It was a large bird, about 3/4 the size of a hawk, more white than a hawk tends to be, and was clucking like a woodpecker, in that repetitive pattern when they fly and call.  What I think I decided in the end was that it was an immature hawk calling for it's mother.  It was a lot like an alarm call that I played on the net, though an octave lower.  I thought it might be a Cuckoo even, but I am thinking now a hawk.  But now I know a new vocalization for hawks I had never heard before.  But in the time it took to track down the sound to it's source, the cigar went out.  It was only 1/2 done, but I let it go out for good, happy with the price (free) and thrilled with the time I had with it and the flavor and joy it had provided.

I do NOT mind rating this little cigar, a solid 90.

Oct. 2007 Montecristo No.2

I decided once again I owed it to the folks who visit here to get off of my ever-increasing fat butt and smoke some cigars while winter has done a lil trick on us. 

I was taking a box of Montecristo No.2 and putting them into a cedar box for long term aging, and I could only fit 20-21 cigars in the box.  So because one had a ding in the wrapper, I decided to smoke it.  A hole in the wrapper is usually a bad sign for me, I find they taste nothing like a cigar with a perfect wrapper, and the draw can sometimes be very weird.  I took some honey and patched the hole with it.  This usually works, but for good measure I took a piece of wrapper cut from the head and placed that on top of the honey to seal the hole.  But then it was clear that I had another issue.  The cigar barely drew air.  I usually cut a circle about 1/4 inch in a piramide.  But the draw was extrememly stingy.  So I cut it twice, my second cut exposed a 1/2 inch opening.  And I still couldn't get a draw I liked.  In fact it did not change.  There was a hard spot near the head I did not like the look or feel of.  But I lit it up and began to smoke.  I am not sure if it was the draw or the age of the smoke, but there was no flavor to be had whatsoever. 

I love the Montecristo No.2, and it was a great looking stick, such a fine shade of wrapper, such nice oils, nice form.  Just no smoke.  When cigars are like this there is no sense in rating them.  If I had to, I would give it a 50.  So you can see why I am apprehensive about rating it at all.  I have another stick out and needing to burn.  I will get back to this entry at a later time to contrast the two cigars.

Additionally, I had about a shot of Rittenhouse Bottled in Bond Rye.......good stuff.  A great selection and suggestion fromthe Bourbon thread at cigarasylum.

Why you always carry a camera

I learned a hard lesson today.  When I got my good camera last year, I took it for every walk I went on.  Then I put it away once I had tested it to my satisfaction.  Tonight I realized why the best photographers say, you ALWAYS have a camera with you.  I was walking along and on the sidewalk in front of me was a Sponge Bob ice cream confection that some child had dropped and obviously his parent told him to leave it on the ground. 

This is not the photo.  I was too angry to shoot one.

What WAS a 5 inch tall ice cream had melted to a PERFECTLY still intact foot long blob, all the colors still  crisp in their lines, the face still perfect, just 2.5 times as long as it had been.  I should have turned around right then, there are 20 dogs or more an hour that walk on that sidewalk.  But instead I finished my route then got on the bike with two cameras and headed back to the spot. 

DOH!

NO FACE.  Just utterly useless to all but ants and more dogs to lick up.  I was crushed.  This was a cash money photo.  Gone...and as fragile as ice cream itself.   It's not like it was hot outside.  It was 50-something farenheit...Damn dogs.

What's the Deal with Winter??

I know that for a lot of my European friends, this will not be any comfort, and might sound an odd complaint, but where is the world is Winter?  It is Monday, the 13th day of February, and we have just had our first cold weekend of Winter.  It was in the Mid 20s overnight for two straight days, but we are heading for the 50s again here in just a few days.  The more I see this kind of activity, I am not as sure we are in Global Warming as we are in "Global Climate Change".  It should start raining in the world's deserts anytime now.  I am pretty sure it IS getting warmer, as the ice caps are melting, but I am becoming ever more convinced that what we are actually experiencing is a shift in the earth's magnetic field, rather than climate change per se.  I do believe in the power of greenhouse gases, but the pole IS shifting and the weather IS moving.  Igneous rocks show distinct evidence that the world's magnetic polarity has indeed flipped several times, likely many times, and other studies and methods have determined it likely that tremendous changes in global weather have accompanied these polarity changes.

So what does this all have to do with cigars??  Well it's interesting..................Nah, that's all I've got, I was just BSing.  Rain and seasons may eventually impact growing zones and planting schedules, but I have absolutely no idea.

And I am no fan of cold weather, but I HATE oppressive heat, so given a choice, I like the cold.  I can buy and put on a coat.  Once I am down to my naked skin, I can no longer moderate the temperature downward.  So even I know, we need to get down into the tens and teens for a few weeks every year, preferably spaced every 3 weeks or so.  It's just odd that we have only had this one cold snap so far this year and we are well into February.  I will try to smoke a cigar this week.  This past weekend was supposed to have been the time.  I chickened out.  I even went for a walk on Saturday that was supposed to be 4-5 miles, but when I turned south on what is generally a southwest journey halfway to the park, I quickly realized that 3 miles back into that cold wind was not happenin'.  So I turned due east and cut my walk down to a mile each way, perpendicular to the wind.  That was fine enough.  But anyone who was thinking, 'GREAT, another blablabla blog about general BS and no cigars and no pictures', take heart....I did manage to smoke some excellent beef ribs in that chilly weather..

Boy were they good.  I also smoked a Boston Butt, but I let the heat go too variable, and while it was DONE through, it did not fully disintegrate the connective tissue properly before I got tired of tending it, so I sliced it up into big chunks of meat.  OUTSTANDING.  Had some Sunday morning, pan-fried with a couple of eggs and two slices of rye toast spread with delicious real butter and a cool glass of milk.  Life in the south is good.

Right until they cut off your legs for diabetes, anyway.