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- Millie Fluer (2015) 
irratebass
www.blindmanspuff.com
Today
*Self proclaimed Room 101 whore*
*Self proclaimed Room 101 whore*
- Joined
- Mar 29, 2017
- Messages
- 7,398
Don't worry buddy, cigar #3 that's more than @nc_6789! Your doing just fine keep smoking!
Man I can't keep up with you guys today. Only my 3rd cigar of the day. I didn't have the phone handy for the other two earlier in the day, but this is the best of the 3. Happy Labor Day everyone. Smoke one for me tomorrow boys as I'll be stuck at work all day tomorrow and won't be able to share in the festivities until later.
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He's got a point.Well if you are only on Round 2, you must still have plenty of cigars, Lol
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THEMISCHMAN
SGT Hulka
Today's yard-gars
First smoke of this long night cooking BBQ.
Halfway to the first band. Hints of licorice and dark chocolate with pepper. Slow burner. Took a couple re-lights to find the right puff ratio. Toast flavor. Would like more cream. Medium strength smoke for sure. Smoke volume is a little thinner than I like. Not a lot of scent floating around on a pretty still night. Smoke is a bluish color. Burn is a little uneven bot not worth correcting.
The night air is a still 69 degrees at the lake with a near full moon. Blowing through the stick brings a nice fruity smell. The first third is underwhelming and requires close monitoring to stay lit - which is troubling for a cigar I stored at 66% humidity. Third re-light. This is getting old. It is humid tonight though. Pepper is stronger in the retrohale.
Smoke volume increasing now. About to remove the first band. I'm a half hour in. It's really a beautiful cigar. The bands are a work of art. I really want to like this smoke, but I think it needs more rest before I crack this box again. After first ash it has taken on a peppery nutty flavor like unsalted peanut. I check the smoker. These butts are gonna take forever at this pace.
I stroll over to my neighbor's Pit Boss pellet grill where two of the eight butts are humming along at 250. I'm envious of his smoker. I take a long drag and get popped in the mouth with a strong nutty draw. This cigar has noted my impatience. A nice bouquet is finally wafting in the air around me, and I contemplate on good neighbors. At home in town I know my immediate neighbors and have a couple I can ask for help if need be in a pinch. But here at the lake I have a friend next door.
Early this summer he offered to cut my grass while he had his mower handy. I gladly accepted and thanked him. He's a gracious man who values fun and family. He adores our slice of life on the water as I do. The house in town could burn to the ground and I'd be fine albeit put out. But up here just 20 minutes from town I'm in Heaven. This property has been in the family since '75 and was deeded to my brother and I by Dad in 2012. I'm the master of the dock. I rock in my chair that my late mother lovingly painted her favorite color - a dark sea foam green. My bijou requires closer attention to remain lit, and I long to be finished as I'm rather bored with this smoke. My friend really hyped this stick.
I think back on my half-painted green rocking chair and the events of the day it wasn't finished when Mom had her fatal stroke. This house was her paradise as it is mine. It is now a shrine to her life. The chair will remain forever my favorite, and forever unfinished in her memory.
Nuttiness has given way to an un-clever pepper mellowness. The uneven burn has corrected itself - something I usually marvel at in an inanimate object that is well crafted, but tonight I'm feeling like it's the least this vitola could do. It reads my mind and dials back the pepper for increased mellowness.
I think back on my neighbor. He's taken it upon himself to be the unofficial groundskeeper for not only my two adjoining properties, but also his and another neighbor on his opposite side. He's a true friend to offer his amazing smoker to host my two extra butts I couldn't house in my overstuffed smoker. The smoke aroma from this stick is way more provocative than its flavor. The mellowness is overwhelming and I long for a new sensation.
As I try valiantly to keep this vigils churning I think about my boys. Their joint birthday party is tomorrow. A half-birthday for my 8 year old February baby who always gets screwed with crappy indoor parties due to the weather, and my birthday boy who turns 7 this week who is the quintessential middle child - headstrong, intelligent, sometimes brooding and unsatisfied, but always entertaining.
My ash unexpectedly gives way in my lap, startling me. Ironic this should happen as it gets dangerously close to the third and final beauty of a band, almost as if it's trying to get my attention any way it can. A hint of citrus pokes its head and I pray this is the signaling of more complex things to come. I hear the loud neighbors across the hundred yard slew on separating our shores. Apparently "Bear" the unseen dog has gone AWOL. Pepper is back again like an unwanted ex. I'm halfway through this smoke, and an hour and twenty minutes in. I can't remember the other five smokes I packed in my herfador, but I'm hoping for better things to come. I had high hopes for Mr. Garcia, but I'm not impressed. Citrus keeps playing at the tip of the tongue a long with a dirt earthiness. The old refrigerator beside me on the porch shines a bit. I secretly hope it does and my new lakehouse fridgador is born. I take a swig of my Diet Dr. Pepper and wish it was bourbon. All pepper has given way to a mellow abyss as I watch the lights of a fisherman easing back to the campground at the end of the slew. It is now midnight.
My fifth relight and I quietly curse this finicky devil. The smoke is now a thicker plume of white with a chocolatey cedar quality. I hope that continues as even the retrohale doesn't sting in the slightest. Cedar is picking up. The smoke burns the nose slightly as if in a final FU from this smoke. A year in the hole for Bijou's brothers. My drink is dry and I have decided to let this sleeping dog lie.
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Montecristo Classic Toro
Prelight draw is strongly citrus. Lighting was a breeze. Extremely smooth first draws with hints of coffee, citrus and milk chocolate. Strong burn off the foot. Wonder if this one will ever need a relight. Retrohale is pleasant without burn. Very polite vigilant so far. Strong coffee and citrus flavors. I watch my mahogany-colored boxer, Maggie, wander the deck aimlessly. I long for her to come sit on my feet as it's 12:30 am and chilly. Smoke flows freely and thick. She whines in boredom and probably hunger as if I may feed her this late. Pleasant hazelnut flavor and nutty aroma wafts around me. Ash is burning tightly at an inche deep and I'm loving the effortless draw. So much creamy smoke that I have to remind myself not to fully inhale. Free burner lends itself well to my lazy style of puffing.
Maggie has given up hope of a late night snack and huffs as she lays at my feet, probably wishing I had left her inside in the warmth of her kennel. We're in this one together, old girl. The cedar smell is strong as it burns on its own, and I find it interesting not to taste it yet. The ash is a classy gunmetal color. Maggie annoys me so we take a stroll down to the water's edge for a drink. She wanders too far into the water for a drink, immediately regretting her error in the chilly September air. The water is perfect glass in the light of an almost full moon. I walk back up to my deck and try my hand at Tiki Toss - a mindlessly frustrating endeavor. Maggie is AWOL as I finally land that little ring on its home after the 27th try. Not my best work. I call quietly Timmy errant companion, then walk Timmy neighbor's house to find her on their deck. Traitor. She quickly sees her error and hangs her head low as we journey the short yard back home.
Cedar has given way to black coffee as I marvel at how years of quality discipline training go out the window at the lake house - much like my other children. Two inches in and the cedar is back - the sharp gunmetal ash line marching along much more obediently than my companion. She growls petulantly at no one as she plops at my feet, and I rest my legs on her warm belly for my comfort, and apparently hers. Good dog. My first Montecristo in a decade and I'm right back in love. A new goal of acquiring Cuban Monte No. 1s wanders into my mind's eye.
The sounds of the lake take center stage as the distant trucks on the highway across the lake drone on about their business. Crickets perform as a blue heron sqwaks his dreadful song and flies away unseen in the dark. I smile at this new friend in my hand as he bellows out his smoke like a well-oiled Diesel engine. Three inches in and warm ash drops to my lap and onto Maggie, who is nonplussed. Jake breaks sound out and I think back on my late grandparents - a Pacific theater Marine who idolized women and Rhett Butler, and the grumbling wife who didn't show her grandchildren as much affection as one longs for. They took to the highways after the war, leaving high school-aged daughters to tend to themselves for two weeks at a time. Necessity bred self-discipline and independence I still admire in my late mother. I momentarily forget my new, more loyal companion, but he doesn't punish me - still wafting smoke to regain my attention.
Grandmother was a trendsetter being the first female trucker in the Southeast in the 50s. A crafty bitter and kiln operator as hobbies I'm told their big rig gauges were framed in stitched doilies. I have to wonder what steps Granddad took to keep that secret. Maggie must be cool as she leans her 65 pounds against me, pinning my leg to my favorite rocking chair. Apparently uncomfortable as I am with the contact she wanders off to clean herself. I blow a puff of velvety smoke in her general direction.
The lateness of the wee morning must be taking its toll on my vitola as it has abandoned its slow steady march - the ash line becoming less even. I'll forgive the misstep as I truly enjoy the company. The smoke is now a bluish color and a hint of pepper has arrived.
I take a swallow of my Diet Dr. Pepper and wonder if the hands that rolled this cigar would begrudge my mundane refreshment in lieu of something more fitting this stately gentleman of tobacco. Maggie returns to rest on my feet and I welcome her return as I long for the warmth of the house and my hammock. When smoking BBQ and cigars my presence is not welcome in the marriage bed!
As if reading my review over my shoulder the cigar corrects its lazy ash line. Pepper, while not my favorite flavor is not overwhelming, almost welcomed tonight. 45 minutes in and our time together is half over.
I'm incredibly pleased with this JR auction box so far - this being the first of its brothers drafted into service. I cannot wait to see what time in my coolidor will tell for his siblings. Maggie grows bored and restless, not concerned with the lateness of the hour, and wanting to go on another stroll. I rub her ear as my thumb strokes back and forth over the deep ridge of her skull, and she seems placated for the moment. Cedar and black coffee return pushing out the mild black pepper. Not a complex smoke but very soothing. It's an easy, understanding relationship I appreciate in a mid-level cigar. I marvel again at the perfect, smooth hole my new XiKar made in the cap. The cigar almost seems greatful for my choice of quality equipment. Two inches of gray ash tilt a bit as Maggie longs for her small kennel and soft bed. Ungrateful beast for wanting our date to end.
I browse my inventory in my Cigar Scanner app, as I type this review, wondering if anyone will pacify my pathetic need to be read. I'm pretty impressed with this app's value, albeit hoping for some rough edges to be filed down. I hope the developer listens to my feedback. Maggie is now balancing her time wandering the porch impatiently checking the door for a chance of another romp. I correct her in my unique grunt and she huffs as she returns to my feet. She sits squarely on my foot, knowing her sign of affection is also a stubborn rebuke to her training. A wiggle of my toes and she rolls to her side, laying down grumpily. As my third ashfall occurs I imagine she'll be grateful for my rambling review to end. I take a swig from my bottle and notice the pepper is returning stronger towards the simple band of this toro. My nose actually tingles on my most recent retrohale. A few more minutes and I'll lay this vitola to rest, pleased with its gentle lack of consistency. Sometimes a pleasant smoke doesn't need to be a tasting masterpiece I remind myself. I'm an hour in with another four inches to go to the nub as I call it a night - the pepper increasing as the smoke takes on a yellow tint in the final puffs. This stick can only improve with age. I am satisfied.
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