Yesterday was one of those rare, "days from hell" at work. When I got home, the smiles on my kids faces, however, changed it all around for me! After a wonderful dinner was enjoyed and cleared away, my family retired o various parts of the house to relax. I grabbed #23, a guillotine cutter, wooden matches, a glass of water, and my notebook and headed out to the front porch swing. #23 has haunted me since I first opened the blind pass package. Of all the cigars involved, it first caught my eye.
I studied them all, looking carefully at the caps and wrappers. I looked for sticks that I thought I would recognize without a band, like PAMs. Carefully, I rolled them in my fingers, studying the veins and looked for hints of toothyness. Again and again, I would glance out of the corner of my eye at #23, believing I had found a treasure...
So it was time, I removed the cello and looked again closely at #23. My wife opened the front door and began to say something to me, but when I turned to look, she smiled and rolled her eyes at me (actually, I think that after the day I had a work, she decided I needed this). Her eye rolling usually means that I need to come in and handle some situation (remember, I have six children), but not tonight. I was on a mission...I was intently looking at #23, running my fingers over it's smooth dark chocolate-brown, maduro wrapper.
23 was a 6 1/2 x 50-52? box-pressed torpedo. As I said, the wrapper was smooth and very dark, almost oscuro. It wasn't as oily as some, or as textured, but it's aroma was strong and appealing. It was so smooth that it was difficult to see the edges of the wrapper as it spiraled down the length. It felt slightly heavy and was firmly packed. Construction was flawless.
It was time, I clipped the head. The pre-light draw was tight, but not bad. I toasted the foot and began to push back against the porch swing. A nice paper-white ash began to form, though not evenly. The first inch was pretty standard. Nothing to really write home about. The burn evened out and the flavor began to increase. The tight draw loosened up after I headed into the second inch. There was a slight hint of pepper. The ash dropped in my lap, dang. I was finally starting to relax, rethink the troubles of the workday. At about the midpoint, the body began to become more intense. Still not much difference in the flavor. I lit two more matches and purged #23. It was a good medium-bodied smoke. As I headed into the home stretch, I could detect some cocoa and coffee hints. There never was much smoke from this one, pretty quiet. But the smoke there, was dense and heavy, lingering around head level in the still air of the cooling evening hours. I like a loud, smokey cigar, but this was nice. Maybe it was nice in contrast of the loud day preceding it.
I could hear the children behind me, in the house. They had returned from their quiet corners and the Lego room in the basement and were following directions getting into their pajamas and brushing their teeth. I looked at the last inch and a half, just where the head began to taper. #23 was mellow and smooth now, as was I. I thanked it, laid it on the ground in the rose bed (my wife hates that) and wished it a good night. Then I went in to read a few books to the little ones and lead my family in evening prayers. I enjoyed licking my lips, while I turned the pages, my mind drifting from the characters in the books back to #23. It wasn't the best smoke I've ever had, but it was very good. It was just what I needed last night. Something most flavorful and intense might have been too much. Something too mild would have been disappointing. I'm still not sure what #23 was, but I think it was destiny. (thanks, Dice7711)
-Wolfy
