Sad Week, big score...

I got a call from my mother regarding the death of  my Uncle Edgar over the weekend.  My family is so scattered and so far from Louisiana that its not possible that they make all the funerals that arise from a LARGE family as our favorite aunts and uncles get older.  But I am not SO FAR away that I can't take time off work if I have it to spare and get down there are rep the family.  My uncle Edgar prided himself in being a great host.  And a great singer, too, but let's just cover the hosting.  If our relatives from up north came down, they may have stayed with other relatives, but he made sure to always throw a HUGE crawfish boil or some other event for them so that they knew they were down the bayou for sure.  And then we would take the 40 minute drive over there, too and bask in the glory of the yankee relatives we loved so much.  It as always quite the bash.  He always had a giant smile on the giant face on the top of his giant body.  He had a comical face and a comical demeanor.  He was a really great guy.  But like many big guys, his heart gave out in the end.  Not to mention he didn't miss many good cajun meals.  He as not a FAT man, he was just a BIG man.  So I got up at 2 am and drove 7 hours to go and extend my condolences to his family.  His wife was my dad's sister.  My dad's been gone a LONG time now, but that's another story.  I saw many of my relatives that I normally do not see unless someone dies.  And sadly, we get together every couple of years now.  So as I drove back home, I figured Pontchatoula, LA was as far north as I dared drive and still expect to be able to find a shrimp po-boy.  It's north of Lake Pontchartrain, and almost to Mississippi.  I exited the interstate and drove through a few red lights and finally came upon "BOOTSY's Gas & Deli."  Never been there, but any deli in that town ought to have po-boys.  As luck would have it, they had 6 kinds.  And that's all it takes to assure me at LEAST a shrimp po-boy, and MAYBE an oyster po-boy.  I COULD eat two, but I knew I would save one for work tomorrow.  I tore open the double-wrapped delicacy on crusty french bread and I swear, as soon as the cruise control was set, I man-handled that thing.  It did not make the state line.  A ten inch fried shrimp po-boy, gone in 20 miles....while driving.  And as they sang in Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, "There's ALWAYS Tomorrow.".............

Well I can edit this post now, just finished the last bite and I am sure glad I saved this one for last.  Even warmed over it was spectacular.  I should have picked up that sack of oysters when I was down there.  And now I KNOW I am going to pick up a sack over the Mardi Gras weekend that I will be down.

Works 70% of the time, EVERY time. RA Petit Corona

After a BAD run of cigars over the past 4-5 entries, I HAD to change the  narrative around here.  I had been given a Ramon Allones Petit Corona by a great friend at the world's greatest herf up in Ohio in the summer of 2012.  

The cigar looked great, and it was a mareva, to me the perfect smoke.  I used to think the way the industry men down in Cuba do, that it was the CORONA (or the lonsdale), but increasingly for me, its the PETIT corona, the common name for the size known as a mareva in the rolling gallery.  its just a perfect draw and smoking duration.  I tend to get quite bored with a cigar around halfway to begin with.  I like the combination of attributes in the mareva for that very reason.  If I DO get bored halfway, at least I am not pitching away half a churchill.  But in general, a mareva allows me to smoke 2/3 of the stick before I get bored, or it gets hot, or the TV show I want to watch comes on.

The Ramon Allones Petit Corona is DARK and oily, with a slight box press and just begging to be lit.  the band slides easily up and down for a half-inch in either direction, telling me this cigar has been around awhile.  And after checking into my suite at the Asylum, I was informed that I DID NOT get this at the Shack, but it was sent to me by Scott last year, thanks so much Scott.  I had forgotten for a moment.

It lit quickly and to make sure I did not have any issues, I cut it quite severely.  I cut the slightest snip off of the Duke I smoked the other day, and while I doubt the poor draw was owing to the CUT, I was not taking any chances.  I got a lightly firm draw and proceeded downstairs with a LARGE, frosty white russian I had just shaken up.  I did not make it in the Jimmy Buffet machine, it was packed in a box.  But it was odd for me to even MAKE such a drink.  I have more liquor in my house than my lifestyle would suggest.  I did not waste any time as a younger man pouring liquor down my gullet.  I would often show up for church on Sunday mornings and I would have alcohol aspirating into the air through my pores.  A bit hypocritical if you ask me.  But that was a difficult time in my life.  Nowadays, I have liquor on hand in case someone drops by or I have a party, neither of which has happened for 10 years.  But from time to time in this blog, I DO like to have a drink with a smoke like most people DO.  And as luck would have it, I had the makings of this on hand after my summer trip to the Smokies.  

Where the hell was I??  Ah, yes, a cigar.  The cigar looked great, and the initial draws as I walked down the stairs to get my lawn chair were great.  This was going to be a front porch special.  The back yard where the pond is is a perfect smoking spot but for RALPH.  Ralph is like any other dog, he needs love and gets little.  I come home from work and give him a treat and scratch under his head and go upstairs.  He is not my dog.  So when I come down to smoke a cigar, he expects me to devote my time to scratching him and paying attention to him.  Luckily he is NOT a retriever.  I ask him where his ball is, and he goes and finds it and gets in his house to chew on it.  He does NOT fetch, nor does he want to play in any way when it comes to his ball.  So the poor sucker, when I have had enough play and want to smoke and relax, I ask him where his ball is and he is off to find it and chew on it until it dawns on him 30 minutes later that he has been tricked.  Then its a few pats on the head and some love and I can do the same thing all over again.  But tonight I just want to smoke the cigar and observe the change from 68 degrees to 38 degrees in a matter of hours.  Outside it is warm and moist.  Hard times ahead tonight.  Those two air masses will NOT get along.

The cigar is perfect.  It draws well, tastes superb.  I get traces of black cherry, honey, smoke, spice and herbs.  NOT unlike a Small Club Corona, but rounder and a little more interesting.  The mouth feel of the smoke is great, too, nice and moist with a cool, minty nature to it.  It burns in a very well-behaved fashion, and when it ashes it continues to burn right along without difficulty.  Around halfway I issue it an ultimatum, continue on in the same manner and I am done, change and become more interesting and I will smoke it to the band.  And as if to answer me directly, it goes out and I have to scrape the ash from the end and re-light it and when I do, I am greeted by a flavor of teacakes and almond cookies, with a buttery character that I am not sure I have ever tasted in such a context.  I have used the term buttery several times here, but in such close relation to this shortbread-type teacake flavor, its impressive.  Grandma's Teacakes, the ones she would bring around in a pillowcase, lol. (inside joke for many).  All in all a great little smoke.  Wish I had 3-4 boxes on hand instead of a one-off.

What Happened? Romeo y Julieta DUKE EL 2009

This used to be a great cigar.  Let's establish at the outset that I am no fan of Edicion Limitada havana cigars.  I like it even less when people lie to themselves and say "this cigar is going to be great in 5 years."  Well OK, maybe not 'LIE to themselves', but remain hopeful against near-overwhelming evidence that they should abandon hope.  To me that is the very story of the edicion limitadas.  ONE DAY these cigars are going to be great.  They HAVE to be.  They're limited editions.  They have a "special wrapper".  Anything that looks this rumpled and mottled and costs way too much extra money HAS to be good at SOME point.  Doesn't it?  Sure it does.

I did enjoy the H. Upmann Magnum 48.  They were good from day one and seem good even now.  But these DUKES, I have no idea why they have made ME act like the rest of you.  Those who know me KNOW I am not like the rest of you.  I am the odd one.  The belligerent one. The troll, the kook.  I have to be different.  I DO NOT LIKE EL cigars.  I think they are a rip off.  And yet here we are.  Man I LOVED this cigar when it came out.  And it looks like I should have smoked through all my boxes back then.  Stocking up was a great idea.  Saving them for a time when they would get even better was a flawed strategy.  I see that now.  And one day on this blog, I hope to eat my words.

To start with the cigar was cracked at the foot.  I guess I dropped it one day.  In fact I know I did.  That's why I did not send it off to a friend in that condition.  I simply replaced it with a perfect one and sent it on.  But as with most cigars, I imagined this little cigar with the broken foot might improve once it burned past the damage.  Maybe I should have even cut a half inch off the foot before lighting it.  But it drew poorly throughout most of the smoking and tasted about as bleh as it could.  Whereas my bad Montecristo No.1 from the other day had 4-5 great puffs out of an otherwise dismal smoke, this cigar was never good, not even once.  I need to remind the reader here that I DO tend to smoke the misfits first, and that can lead to a lot of disappointments if smoke after smoke is messed up by cracks, holes, dowel bunches, and other forms of poor construction.  I guess its a miracle I ever get a GOOD smoke.  And it is for that reason that lately I have been intending to grab a great smoke right off the bat, throw economy and caution to the wind and just grab something duty-bound to be memorable.  But these ugly ducklings work their way to the front of the line.  I WANTED a BHK52, but the box they were in was buried at the bottom of an ice chest that was at the bottom of a stack of ice chests.  I HAD a full box right on top, but I wanted the one that was open, for obvious reasons.  I was going to smoke an Esplendido, but the box THEY were in was too hard to find.  So I went to the dry-box to see what was in there, and the Duke was just sitting there waiting.  So I cut it, poured a half of a bomber of Stone Sublimely Self-Righteous Ale and went downstairs to smoke a cigar by the pond.  I am not going to bore you with an actual review, the cigar sucked.  But it just kills me that these were once one of the best cigars I owned.  Now they are just blah.  MAYBE they will come back again with enough time in the cooler.  But isn't that JUST what they ALL say?

A New Year & a New Cigar: Montecristo No.1 2007

Nothing is more pathetic than the statistics for a blog that has good content but an unmotivated author.  I had weeks and weeks of no one visiting.  Why should they?  To re-read old posts?  Hardly.  People want me to smoke something.  I whine when its too hot and I whine when its too cold.  Something had to give.  And in the end it was New Year's Eve.  And in terms of the title "a new cigar", I have been smoking havana cigars since 1994 and have never had a Montecristo No.1.

I don't go out on New Year's Eve anymore.  When I was a kid in New Orleans, I always went out with friends.  When I was in the service, I think we just hung out together and got drunk in the dorm.  But it was in my post-military years in college in the bible belt that I had to stop going out.  I am no advocate for drinking and driving, certainly, but in Mississippi, they DARE you to go out and have fun.  They set up 3-5 road blocks in a given city and they just wait for you.  Never mind that most of the people they claim you are a threat to are in bed or at home.  But again, I don't advocate drunk driving.  But like any poor old mutt dog, you beat me enough times and I am going to cower in the presence of your mighty power.  So the cigar and a shot of Rare Breed had to be consumed with two pairs of sweatpants on the bottom and a long sleeve shirt and hoodie coverup on top, with a watch cap on the head.  I selected a nice light stick to keep the possibility of a plugged smoke at bay, and I cut it and lit it quite easily.  

I passed on a BHK52, a Montecristo Sublime and a Montecristo Especiale before settling on this cigar, and I instantly regretted it.  One thing I love about a typical Montecristo is the outpouring of powdery cocoa flavor and light and sweet spice.  None of that was waiting for me.  Out of the entire 2/3 of the stick, I might have gotten 5 good, tasty puffs.  The rest were not even hay-like.  They were just bland.  I love havana cigars, but I really HATE Habanos and their total lack of consistency in ANYTHING.  The only consistent factor is their total lack of control.  

They can make a box of cigars totally uniform in all appearances, but can't make 25 cigars taste alike.  Not even close.  It leads to what I call the Habanos rule.  Every box of cigars will contain on average, 5 stellar cigars, 12 cigars that are passable but totally unremarkable, and 8 cigars that are totally crap.  Its a real shame.  I expect another 3-4 bad ones in this box, as it was a box of ten.  I will try again soon and see if the whole box is shot or not.

One great cigar on a BAD WEEK

I hate Thanksgiving.

Does that make me a bad American?  Nope.  

It makes me an employee of the company that puts on a large go-kart race every Thanksgiving.  Every year I give up ten days of my life to create webcasts that emanate from the event.  I spend a week in a motel room that scores a 1.5 out of 5 stars.  I am generally in a foul mood for a month prior to the show, up until that moment after the last race is over and all the cables and equipment, covered in filth, are all cleaned, the gear is all packed up, and I arrive home at 2 am Sunday morning.  But with the exception of two 18 hour days at the end of the week, I get to spend some late evenings in front of my motel room in a chair with a paper cup of whiskey and ice and a fine cigar.  On the first of 3-4 such evenings, I selected a 2005 Partagas Serie D No.4.  This one was remarkable for the fact that it was the first of this vintage that I have smoked yet that was not smoked with tape over the damaged heads.  I had 4 boxes of ten and I emptied all the boxes into an old cabinet of fifty robustos...  Among the 40 sticks, there were 3-4 that had severe damage to the head.  I find some packing tape works pretty well in fixing the damage , cures the bad draw and saves the smoke, which I am all for.  And now those damaged sticks are all officially smoked.  

Down to the good stuff.  

I proudly lit the cigar and kicked back enjoying the perfect draw and superb flavor.  Man what a smoke.  These are notorious for their erratic performance in terms of flavor.  If you do not know the 'secret' to their proper smoking time, you end up complaining about them.  If you DO know the ancient chinese secret, you smoke new boxes up fast or put em down for 3-4 years.  Or so goes the lore, passed down from viking times.

This cigar went so well with the Wild Turkey Rare Bird that I hardly noticed the bitter cold.  (For the record, that bottle of Basil Hayden's in the back was NOT killed at the motel.  That one has been around all year, til I finished it earlier in the week.)  I smoked the PSD4 up too fast, but enjoyed it well enough.  I tasted licorice, coffee, mint, cream, pine, spice and leathery goodness.  The draw was perfect and the burn was straight too.  All in all, one of the rare moments of joy in a week I dread every year.

If you don't expect much, sometimes you get a lot

I have smoked a lot of Montecristo Petit Edmundos, and had now a total of two good ones.  One of those happened today.  On a cigar website, I had suggested to a person who wanted to cook a shoulder in a crock pot that it might be better to smoke a cigar and have a beer outside while the shoulder was smoking in a traditional smoker.  I can't think of a better way to spend a meat-monitoring session than with a fine havana cigar.  Now the weather is different for everyone,  and this person was expecting some cold rain, so who am I to tell him where to smoke his meat?  

Here where I live, it was going to be COOL with rain moving in at any time.  And since this blog has languished for over a month without a new entry, I decided I needed to take my own advice and sit outside this morning and smoke a cigar.  I clipped a Petit Edmundo that was sitting in a humidor designed to dry cigars out prior to smoking, and spending much more time in that box was going to ruin it.  So I poured a pint of Abita 25th Anniversary Ale and ambled on downstairs.  One of the best things about the morning up to that point had been at the new placement of my bird feeder.  I'd cut down a small dead tree last year and was about to cut it up into small pieces for burning when I realized it might be best to just dig a post hole and plant the old dead tree in a different spot as a wait station for birds who like to drink off of the waterfalls in my pond.  Many birds use my pond and it's water features for a morning or evening bath, and it can get crowded at times.  What's more, the birds like to act like they are not waiting.  They are just chilling out.  So having a few nice perches around act as both a spot to wait and a spot to scope the area for predators prior to putting themselves in a dangerous but necessary position.  I hung a bird feeder from one of the limbs and the black sunflower seed in it appeals especially to Nuthatches and Titmouses and Chickadees. What falls below is a treat for the Cardinals. These birds are pretty entertaining and really pleasant critters to watch.  They are all pretty tolerant of me being out there, and this morning, they gently scold me when I go too close to the feeder until they realize I am peeling a pecan to break up and put in the feeder tray.  They really love that and their scolding turns into an excited chatter.  

So once I get the cigar lit it dawns on me quickly that I am enjoying the smoke a LOT.  It started with a lot of Montecristo cocoa and spice, and headed into a very mineral twang of cuban soil.  The burn was as slow as a coming Christmas for a 5 year old, and it was a real sight at the foot of the cigar.  It was ragged and ugly but it was a joy to smoke the cigar and have it last so long.  The flavor kept on going and going, and the pleasure was notable, after not smoking for so long.  I watched the birds come and go, choosing their sunflower seed or pecan pieces, and puffed away happily, watching the blue smoke from both the foot of the cigar and the chimney of my smoker.  Once the Boston butt was done, I thought, 'ehh, what the heck, solid days of rain are coming, it's already wet from a morning rain and the smoker is still going', so I went upstairs and split a whole fryer and rubbed it well and smoked that, too.  I fed the smoked giblets to Ralph, who really appreciated it, especially the liver.  As he was gobbling it down, I realized I should PROBABLY be eating that instead.  What careth he if its a gizzard, a heart, a neck or a liver?  And there were TWO livers in this bird's cavity.  And I STILL let him have it.  Not thinking straight from smoking my killer little cigar.

I love a good Petit Edmundo.  All two times I have had one.  Wait, MAYBE I have had THREE.  I seem to recall writing this same schpiel in another post a while back.  Still has about the same impact.  To have smoked maybe 20 and had 3 good ones?  That makes an impression that is hard to drop.  But when I get a good one, and enjoy a cool and damp morning among my little furred and feathered friends, it makes it a day worth living even more than usual.  

2007 Choix Supreme

I had two boxes of these and have yet to smoke one, and I am already down 35 cigars.  So it was time to try one.  Just a gorgeous cigar, wrapped in a near flawless wrapper covered in oil.  It cuts easily and lights a bit slow.  I walk outside to smoke it and a barred owl lets out on of those HOO-ahhhhs.  Startled me a bit, but there are a lot of barred owls in the neighborhood, so it did not scare me. I kind of expect it.

The smoke is thick and oily with a hint of white pepper and some cane syrup.  It is still stingy with the smoke though, and I think a draw poker would help, but I don't have one.  So I struggle a bit through half of the smoke, but it never opens up in the flavor department.  It is extremely thin on flavor and there is nothing worth noting other than hey, it was HIGH time I smoked a cigar for you guys.  I poured the last of a bottle of Chardonnay I bought for my sister but never gave her....screw cap embarrassment, I guess.  It's not bad, but also a bit thin on flavor.  I call out to the owl in all of my barred owl phrases I know but it stays silent.  It's buddies out in the deeper trees answer, but it is too smart to call out to me.  i would like to say this was a good cigar, but I can't.  I am going to bury them for about 6 months and give one a shot in the spring.  Don't forget to set your clocks back, that just reminded me.