Why it's hard to beat a great cigar smoked to the nub

fjrabon

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Too often I don't finish my cigars. I smoke about half of it and then some inconsequential stuff comes up and I let the smoke dwindle and die. Tonight I smoked the whole thing. A man or perhaps a woman made this thing, with their bare hands. Knowing the brand, whoever made it made the cigar with a sense of pride. In that part of the world a cigar maker is a profession of pride passed down through generations. I'll probably never meet this person but perhaps I know something of them. They took some part of their day for the express purpose of making some part of my day incrementally better. As I sit here on my porch watching the cars and occasional stray cat traverse Howell Mill Road, the smoke from that cigar warms on a chilly evening. And maybe that means something. Smoking a cigar should be a commitment. Not a major one like marriage, but a commitment none the less to both oneself and the maker of that cigar such that their time wasn't wasted. All the maker of that cigar really wants is to know the world is a little bit better because of the way they folded a bit of tobacco that was expertly grown and aged by the glorious yellow ball. The same ball that warms the early morning photographs that comprise the living I chose to make myself. So, yeah. Enjoy your cigar and don't let immaterial bull**** get in the way of things that ultimately matter less than a man or woman's sense of worth and pride.
 
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For me it's the unofficial 2 finger rule, or up to the beginning of the label.

You will taste fine flavors but down towards the end too acidic.
 
For me it's the unofficial 2 finger rule, or up to the beginning of the label.

You will taste fine flavors but down towards the end too acidic.

I find that enough good scotch enables a few more millimeters. Perhaps very similarly to a bit of scotch meaning you sort of get why 12mm worked on this photo, where 14 would have totally ruined it.
 
Thanks for posting this!

I can totally visualize a quiet evening sitting on the porch puffing on a good stogie and sipping yummy 18yr scotch.

That sounds absolutely splendid right about now.
 
Fjrabon, I'll be there in 20 hours to take a shot of the moment you described
 
I'd only smoke Cuban cigars. For me, no other tobacco cigar intoxicates in the same way. I've tried various other types but nothing compares. I'm not an afficianado but I like the smaller Romeo&Julieta (cheap) and bigger Sancho Panza (expensive).
 
Autoro Fuentes Hemingway. I wish I had that Cuban access.
 
you can find non-cubans that are as good. Cuba is the the ideal environment. But there are a few that come close, and in a few cases surpass the more average Cuban brands. It took a long time, and for a long time growers in other carribean countries didnt quite have the right mix, they had Cuban seed, but that seed really only worked in Cuba. Growers in other countries were actually better, but Cuba is a refined environment, that is ideal, and certain formulas are known to work there, through the ages. The seed needed to grow, and slowly morph into something that worked better for the soils, temperatures and sunlight exposure for the particular country the seed found itself in. Slowly the dominican had a few growers that have found a great mix that works for the climate. The problem these days isn't necessarily that good cigars aren't made in countries outside of Cuba, it's that advertising doesn't necessarily match quality of production. The truly great growers are growing all they can and thus have no interest in even trying to spend money to sell more.

Davidoff is a great cigar, pleasurable, dependable. Expensive, but you know you'll get a great smoke 9/10 times. The dominican Romeos are fine enough, exquisitely made, but with average seed for the environment. Gran Habano had a great thing going for a while with their #5 corojo, but have recently sold the line out and switched filler leaves. It's still a great smoke, but not quite as exquisite. A good Padron still rivals anything but the truly top of the line Cubans.

But to me, the big deal isn't particularly the smoke itself as much as the ritual. I can find plenty of pleasant enough smokes. The thing that turns it from something that is sort of okay for 10 minutes to something that transforms an hour of your life is the understanding of what a cigar is, why it differs from a cigarette, and appreciation of the whole thing. Maybe throw in a middle period Rolling Stones record and some good scotch and you got a winning combo.

While smoking this cigar, Gimme Shelter came up on my headphones (Sennheiser HD 650s). Merry Clayton sang on that track perhaps like nobody has sang before or since. Urban legend has it that Merry sang so hard, and with such fire on that track that she had a miscarriage later that evening. I dont know if that's true or not, but does the literal truth really matter in such a case? Listen to her voice crack when she sings "raaaaaape, murder, it's just a shout away" and that's all the truth I really need when it comes to that. You hear Mick Jagger in the background let out a visceral 'whoo" like he had never heard an emotional musical tone quite like that.

it's a sort of combination of rituals. I love vinyl, not because it's necessarily a better medium. Let's be honest, the Rolling Stones never really gave a crap about recording quality to begin with, but it's more the ritual of the whole aspect of the thing. When you're tossing a big heavy vinyl record on the table, you're committing yourself to something. The artist's vision in this case, a rolled bit of tobacco in another. where it takes your is your choice and their choice at the same time. Heck, so far as we know, somewhere back in the mists of time and legend a woman may have suffered great personal loss in the commission of such a ting. At least we can give it a bit of our time and maybe let out a soft 'whoo' of our own and appreciate what's been laid out on the table.
 
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0:53 "I smoke old stogies that I have found,
Short, but not too big around..."
 
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I had a CAO Italia and a Rocky Patel Vintage '92 last night sitting around my firepit.

I met Rocky once at the Masters (I was born in Augusta, GA and always found random odd jobs that time of year servicing the tournament, like almost every native of that city does). Greg Norman had just blown the tournament (which isn't a good demarcation of time, I realize) and he called Rocky up for some cigars. Rocky arrives with a cadre of cigars, women and booze. I'm a humble little dude fetching things. I didn't take pictures in those days, which was a pity. Those moments were I guess lost to posterity, but man, they were moments to be sure. Somewhere Walter Iooss was probably stalking around somewhere, but Walter had the good taste to shoot when he was wanted. He was probably partaking in some of the booze and cigars Rocky brought along.
 

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