I have to admit.  I'm jealous.  My wife and I have just returned from a far-too-short visit to Tampa, Florida, where we spent almost all of our waking time in historic Ybor City, the erstwhile "Cigar Capital of the World." 

Yes, I'm jealous.  I'm jealous of the bountiful cigars one finds there, of the greatest variety and highest quality, available at extremely reasonable prices.  I'm jealous of the weather, which was absolutely idyllic the entire time we were there.  I'm jealous of the rich, polyglot Latin-based culture that surrounds and enraputres the visitor to Ybor City, enveloping him in a unique vitality, a vibrant Iberio-Caribbean embrace of life at its fullest.  And I am jealous of the wonderful sense of community that one finds in Ybor -- and the ease to which one can feel comfortable in it, and indeed, becomes accepted into it as an equal part and member.

There was a time when more Havana cigars were made in Ybor City (now a part of the City of Tampa) than in Havana itself.  It is the place of origin of a surprising number of familiar cigar brands and family names.  Ybor City was founded as a strictly cigar-making town by expatriate Cubans, and was settled by Cubans, Spaniards, Italians, and other ethnic groups connected to various stages of the cigar-making business such as European Jews and Germans.  It rightly lays claim to a rich and glorious history -- one where many cultures coexisted side by side, all cooperating in singleminded pursuit of a noble dream: the perfect cigar.

Today, with Havana tobacco off-limits to American production, most cigar manufacturing has moved offshore.  But there are still many places in Ybor City than one can go to experience cigars being bunched and rolled -- even banded, cellophaned, and boxed.  All by hand, in the traditional Cuban way, and usually by fascinating people who learned their trade in the great cigar factories of Cuba itself.

In some of these locations, one can have a seat near the rollers as they work -- smoking one of the excellent locally-produced cigars, and chatting with the owners and rollers about their exodus from that oppressive island they once called home.  (It helps to speak Spanish fluently, as does my wife, since many of these folks know little or no English.)

In other locations, once can go inside and purchase a cigar (or two or three or ...), and step outside to have a seat in the shade, leisurely allowing the life of Ybor to pass by as you relax.  While there, if you choose, you can don a Guayabera, the traditional Cuban dress shirt, and blend into the community, sipping perhaps a glass of Spanish wine, a cup of strong Cuban coffee or luscious café con leche, and chatting with the locals or reminiscing with the shop owners about the rebirth of this fascinating place.

One can indulge one's shopping hobby in the many unique shops, and in the new Centro Ybor, an outdoor commercial answer to the needs of every grownup mall rat, carefully designed to blend in with the traditional Hispanic feel of the city.  And one can get great deals on cigars and merchandise by going right to the factory -- and if you're lucky, you might get to shake the hand of a Fuente or a Newman.  (As I did.)

One can visit museums, parks, craft shops and art galleries; one can go back in time and ride a charming, old fashioned trolley; one can see and take pictures of genuinely historic sites and buildings.  And one can learn about the rich history of the area and the surprisingly unique part which it played in American, Spanish, and Cuban history.

Finding a place for a great meal is absolutely no problem.  From the quaint local Cuban fare of a famous diner to upscale haut cuisine in traditional Hispanic or modern American form, from Argentine grilled steaks to a historic Spanish restaurant with its floor show featuring genuine flamenco dancers -- it's all there.

And one can engage in a vibrant night life, in one so desires, in one of the many nightclubs for which Ybor City has come to be known as of late.

Yesterday afternoon I had the opportunity to cross the bridge into Detroit's southern suburb, Windsor, Ontario, Canada.  As such I was outside of the jurisdiction of that one and only regime in the world where simple possession of certain otherwise legal, natural, handmade tobacco products is a federal crime punishable by hefty fines and imprisonment.  Therefore I was able to freely exercise my right to smoke my choice of cigar, without fear of being fined up to a quarter of a million dollars and imprisoned for up to ten years.

Fortunately for me, the Cuban state cigar firm La Casa del Habano (owned by Corporation Habanos S.A.) operates a franchise in Windsor within sight of the beautiful Detroit skyline, not twenty minutes from my home.  I parked my car right out front (!) and fed the meter with a couple "loonies."

Inside the establishment one finds a helpful and knowledgeable staff, a relaxing, comfortable cigar lounge, and of course, a well-stocked humidor featuring a stunning collection of Cuban cigars. 


Once inside the ultimate, Havanas-only humidor, I made a beeline for the Partagas shelves to see if I could find that one Cuban cigar I've most wanted to try of late: the Partagas Serie D Edición Limitada.  In the last couple years I have read so much about this cigar, and knew that only 500 boxes were produced of the celebrated 2001 edition of the No. 3 vitola (a corona gorda).  I also knew that the only place these were available outside of Germany (which received 300 of those boxes!) was in the various world franchises of La Casa del Habano.

After a brief moment of panic I was overjoyed to find one -- ONE! -- of these very special cigars left.  Digging deep into my pockets I immediately ponied up my reserves of that pinkish Canadian cash (CAD 32.95 -- about USD 26.68) and breathlessly made my way into the cigar lounge with my prize, smiling from ear to ear.

Greeting the gentlemen already in the lounge, I took a seat in a comfortable, leather easy chair, opened my notebook and examined my catch. A beautiful, box-pressed maduro, this 5.5 x 46 stick had a dark, rosy brown wrapper, highly oil-spotted from age.  The classic Cuban corona seemed to have a slightly rough appearance, which surprised me; such a celebrated cigar should look perfect, should it not?  It had a light feel in my hand, and was somewhat squishy.

This stick featured two cigar bands.  I'm certain that the first -- the renowned red Partagas maduro band -- is what CAO is imitating with its own red maduro label.  (Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.)  The second is the gold and black Edición Limitada 2001 label that was affixed to all special edition Havanas, regardless of brand, in the year 2001.

I intended to pay close attention to this once-in-a-lifetime, highly-celebrated cigar -- not missing any detail, not matter how slight, of the experience.  I prepared myself to shun any preconceived notions, and to carefully document the experience on its own terms.

The lightup was strong and toasty -- not harsh, but immediately authoritative.  Yes, this was a Havana; a premium one, at that.  The flavor of freshly-lit ligero filled my mouth.

At 5 minutes, the first taste of cedar debuted, making itself known from within that full, powerful ligero profile.  The cigar had an easier-than-average draw.

At 10 minutes, the finish began taking on some complexity and length.  Notes of cedar and leather dominated.

At 15 minutes, this smoke had taken on the most incredible, cedary character.  That this was a first-class cigar, there was no doubt.  The stick was beautifully alluring.

At 20 minutes, my Partagas had become the ultimate cedary cigar.  It was no longer a terribly strong smoke, but rather, it was massively flavorful.  Authoratative but with a subtle, cultured intensity, the incredible flavor profile was nevertheless beginning to be outshown by the unusually long finish.  Dominated by aromatic cedar notes, this finish was so good that I really didn't want to take the next draw on the cigar!  So I removed 1-3/8" of gray-white, mottled ash.

At 25 minutes, I realized that I was smoking quickly, or rather, that the cigar was burning rather fast.  Perhaps this fact, combined with the soft feel and easy draw, might indicate a light fill.  But after smoking a third of this stick I could not doubt that it was absolutely delicious, having developed a luxurious complexity of flavor and a luscious, heavenly finish.  And I was enjoying the comfortable surroundings as well as my conversation with the other cigar lovers in the room.

At 30 minutes, I noted that the cigar had been remarkably consistent.  At this point, nearly half was gone; it was perhaps a bit smoother and less strong than before, but just as full-flavored -- and maybe even more complex.

At 35 minutes, the flavor profile was characterized by a cedar top note, as before.  But cocoa had now become the middle note, while leather was diminishing.

At 40 minutes, I was so absorbed in an enjoyable conversation that I had barely noticed a change; the cedar and cocoa were now accompanied by a tingly, minty feel.

At 45 minutes, I removed another 1-3/8" ash.  The finish was almost indescribably enjoyable.  "Who needs lunch?" I exclaimed to my companion.

At 50 minutes, the nicotine was quite noticeable.  In the flavor profile, cocoa and cedar were now competing for dominance in a tense stand-off.  Less than two inches of cigar remained.

At 55 minutes, less than an inch and a half was left; noting that my prize was still extraordinarily excellent, I was determined to smoke this gift from heaven until my fingers needed to be bandaged.  The nicotine was making me quite dizzy, but I didn't care one whit.

At 1 hour, less an inch remained.  The smoke was still just as wonderful as before.  The pain of several inadventent finger burns was beginning to distract me from my animated conversation.

Alas! at 1 hour and 5 minutes, I reluctantly, sadly, abandoned the little stub of what was once a great cigar -- ritually and respectfully laying its remains to rest.  It was entirely too hot to hold and to draw from.  I literally staggered to the car.

At 1 hour and 15 minutes, back in Motown on the Jeffries Freeway, I was still savoring that lingering, complex finish.  I wondered: could I be tried and convicted for carrying that back across the border?

(Of course, it goes without saying that this cigar is highly recommended.)

A few years ago the national concern Whole Foods Market bought out another, but smaller, upscale food store chain in our area, the Merchant of Vino.  At first, the two stores coexisted in Ann Arbor.  But eventually the "powers that be" combined the two stores into one.  Closing both original locations, they built what is, in effect, a Whole Foods super-megastore in a new, very well-positioned site.  Where the Merchant of Vino once was, a brand new market opened, by the name of Bello Vino -- a very nice place that rivals the old Merchant of Vino (of pleasant memory).  And in the original Whole Foods site, a national concern named Trader Joe's opened a new market.

While I had continued to shop with Whole Foods in their new mega-location and have also frequented the new Bello Vino, I had never taken a look at Trader Joe's.  Until recently, that is.  Brandy pointed me there to take a look at their chocolates, coffees, etc.  I'm glad she did.

A really fun place to shop, Trader Joe's fills a unique niche as a discount, but upscale market.  As such it offers a full line of house coffees, from very light to very dark.  All their coffees are specially-packed and nitrogen-flushed to preserve freshness.

Today I will review their premium coffee, the Bay Blend Ultraroast.  It is a dark roast that is designed to appeal to lovers of the deep, strong coffee traditionally served in the Bay area (alas! I'm not certain whether they mean the San Francisco or Seattle bay area -- probably the latter).  I was impressed to discover that the coffee comes in a resealable cylindrical container, rather than the traditional foil bag.  And for a premium whole bean coffee, it was particularly reasonable in price; I paid only USD 4.49 for the lion's share of a pound (12 oz.).

The beans were indeed dark and fairly oily.  The brewing was particularly aromatic.  The resulting nectar was very dark brown, almost rosy in color.  But the first taste was somewhat disappointing.  There was a certain harshness about it that did not please.  Something's wrong, I mused.  Perhaps it was my preparation.

So I tried again.  Thinking that it might be better suited as a slightly weaker brew, I lessened the number of scoops I put into the grinder.  And voila!  It worked! 

This coffee is not designed to be made as strong as are some other premium blends.  And as it turns out, it needn't be.  Made medium-strong, it is a very flavorful, full-bodied, beany dark roast beverage.  I enjoyed it black.  However, after having experimented a bit, I determined that this coffee, being full of flavor even when prepared medium-strength, stands up fairly well to cream or half-and-half.  Caffeine content is moderate, as premium coffee should be.

Despite its sensitivity to preparation strength, this is a hearty, authentic West Coast dark blend, full of fine flavor and enjoyable aroma, and at an almost unbelievably reasonable price.  Trader Joe's Bay Blend Ultraroast is definitely recommended.  Try some for your morning wake-up.

Camacho cigars are produced by Caribe Imported Cigars, a firm which also produces lines such as Baccarat and La Fontana.  In my opinion, the Camacho brand is Caribe's best, and their most serious, line of cigars.  Made in Honduras, Camacho cigars are meant to hearken back to the old days of serious Havana smokes.

The Camacho Corojo line is billed as an aged, full-bodied, distinctive and authentic corojo cigar, a puro with tobacco grown in the Jamastran valley.  At $5.99 a stick I picked up a couple Toros, a vitola of the classic 6.0 x 50 toro size.  The cigars had a very nice colorado brown, almost rosy color.  The silky-smooth, somewhat-oily wrapper was quite pretty, and the cigar had a well-made cap.  The stick had a medium feel in my hand, and the unlit smoke was strongly aromatic.

The lightup was elegant, full, toasty and rich.  Plenty of ripe tobacco flavors impacted my senses.  Hearty and flavorful, even at first, the cigar developed into a medium to full-bodied smoke after about five minutes.

The cigar provided a rich, cedary character with plenty of flavor.  But it was not at all pushy nor overpowering.  My wife remarked that the aroma was plentiful, smooth and attractive.

But alas! at fifteen minutes it became undeniable that this cigar was not burning well.  One side would not burn, despite my earnest efforts.  Yet the flavors remained smooth and cedary.  Happily, ten minutes later the stick appeared to right itself, and once again burned fairly well.  I removed 1-1/2" of lopsided, medium-gray ash.

At 35 minutes the smoke had entered its second third.  The flavor profile was cedary, smooth and full.  Rich and tasty, this was a very enjoyable cigar.  And a cedary, luscious finish began to take on some pleasant length.

After 45 minutes, at about the halfway mark, everything changed.  Still cedary, the smoke became much fuller and more robust.  Still smooth, the cigar was now bolder, providing bountiful amounts of rich, ripe tobacco flavor.

I was enjoying this smoke immensely.  But sadly, five minutes later those doggone burning problems resurfaced.  Just as I began to get angry, though, the cigar righted itself and resumed a decent burn.  What a see-saw ...

At 55 minutes I began to note some nicotine.  I removed a second, wobbly, inch and a half of ash.  The cigar now produced strong, cedary flavors with a creamy, wood-like finish.

Well, wouldn't you know it -- at an hour and fifteen minutes the stick started burning poorly again.  However, there was none of the typical harshness of a poor burn; flavors were still creamy, cedary, full-bodied.  But the thing was canoeing severely.  My daughter entered the room and exclaimed that it smelled like someone was baking brownies. 

Abandoned at 1 hour 25 minutes, the cigar had become unpleasant because of an awful burn and irrecoverable canoeing.

Despite the significant construction flaws in this cigar, I would consider it to be mildly recommended, simply because of the obvious pedigree of its tobacco, its very good flavors, great finish, and reasonable price.

The northern French region of Normandy is a beautiful and charming place to visit.  Personally, I feel that any trip to France should include a visit to Normandy if time permits.  Known for its breathtakingly beautiful beaches, half-timbered architecture, delicious local cuisine and curiously mounded country lanes, charming Normandy is a refreshing change from the upscale, urban hustle-bustle of cosmopolitan Paris.  Yet any visit to Normandy is woefully incomplete if one does not sample both the uniquely refreshing local beverage, calvados, as well as the substantial range of unique local cheeses.  These could be the most reasonably priced experiences one can have there, and could be among the most memorable as well.

La Fromagerie GRAINDORGE of Livarot, Normandy, are makers of traditional Normandy cheeses.  Particularly careful about their raw materials, E. Graindorge buys milk only from farmers who feed their cows in a certain way.  They just happen to produce two of my favorite morning cheeses, Petit Pont L'Eveque and Petit Livarot.  Both are AOC (Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée) cheeses, a designation used also for fine Burgundy and Bordeaux wines; the AOC designation provides the government's assurance of their unique origin and preparation.

The Petit Livarot is a semi-soft cow's milk cheese with a washed rind, and takes its name from its town of origin, Livarot.  Called "L'Colonel" by the locals, the cheese is banded with five strips of reddish paper, reminiscent of the five stripes once worn on a colonel's sleeve.  Once meant to hold the semi-soft contents together, this banding is today probably more of a tradition than a structural necessity.

Graindorge's Petit Livarot comes in its own little cylindrical wooden box, affixed with a colorful label.  The "Petit" in its name simply means that it is a smaller wheel than the full Livarot; Graindorge sells a 250g (0.63 lb.) cheese which cost me $10.70 at Whole Foods Market.  Opening the lid of the box, one finds the cheese wrapped in plastic-covered wax paper with an elegant French script description; the presentation is quite elegant (even if one cannot read the script!).

Upon unwrapping and removing the cheese, one notices that typical, pungent aroma of washed-rind cheese.  (My wife calls it "stinky."  I call it "heavenly!")  The rind of this little cheese wheel is indeed circled by five strips of orange paper; I take these off, carefully, as the rind of this cheese is edible (it can, indeed, be the best part).  The color of the rind is that of the crust of freshly-baked soft rolls.

Upon slicing into the cheese I note that the flesh is a deep, creamy yellow color, and that it put up little resistance to the knife.  It cuts smoothly, suggesting that it's not a soft cheese -- but not really a firm one either.  Indeed, the flesh is on the firm side, as compared to other semi-soft cheeses, and is attractively dotted with small eyes (i.e., holes).  The pungent aroma is not as noticeable as it was when opening the wrapping.

Texture of the cheese in the mouth is incredibly smooth; the feel of the thin rind is hardly distinguishable from the flesh.  A ripe, creamy, full milky flavor, backed with that characteristic washed-rind pungency, fills one's mouth.  The cheese also provides a long, intense finish, dominated by pungent yet creamy flavor notes.

E. Graindorge's Petit Livarot is a bold, creamy semi-soft cow's milk cheese with a delightful texture and true, old-world charm -- c'est Normand.  Having a slice of this cheese is rather like being right there in Normandy for just a moment.  I heartily declare this cheese to be recommended.

Cigar smokers are all too familiar with those standard government-issue boilerplate warning labels that have been plastered onto our otherwise beautiful cigar boxes.  If one believes that nothing is certain but death and taxes, they have overlooked the universal meddling of government in its citizens' private lives.  Earlier in my lifetime it was the zealous right which campaigned against the scourge of tobacco; now it is the authoritarian left who seeks to save us from ourselves at the point of a bayonet.

Yes, these well-meaning but arrogant, historically- and constitutionally-ignorant lawmakers mean only to protect cigar aficionados from themselves.  What we do in the privacy of our own leather easy chairs is now their business.  This is done in spite of the volume of evidence that the health effects of the moderate smoking of pure-tobacco, totalmente a mano natural cigars has essentially nothing in common with the addictive consumption of highly-processed, chemically-adulterated, flame-accelerated, drug-infused, industrially-homogenized and paper-wrapped cigarettes (as well as their grocery-store machine-made "cigar" cousins).

Like the foolish scientist who insists that, "if the data contradicts my theory, then the data must be wrong," these zealous lawmakers lump our organic, natural, non-adulterated product in with mass-produced "cigars" and cigarettes, slapping those labels onto our boxes and warning us of a slow and painful death if we dare defy the politically-correct, authoritarian tobacco-nazi creed by partaking of the very product we've just purchased.  Yet these same self-righteous lawmakers (and their misinformed supporters) go home and broil fish -- in a few minutes producing several orders-of-magnitude more carbon monoxide, NMOG (non-methane organic gases) and harmful nanoparticle particulates than would the moderate smoker of fine, natural cigars over a period of days.  (So much for science being on their side.)

Well, there you have my opinion of labels on cigar boxes.  Except for one.  You can find this one only on boxes of The Edge Cigars by Rocky Patel and Nestor Plasencia.  This is the first cigar I've seen that voluntarily came with its own warning label. 



This label is prominently placed on the inside lid of the box, stating: "WARNING: Professional Smokers Only.  Smoke While Sitting Down."  Other promotional literature warns "Smoke only on a full stomach."  My tobacconist issued me the same warning before cautiously taking my money for two of these cigars at $5.99 each.  I walked out, cigars in hand, wondering just what I had gotten myself into.  Is this clever marketing?  Or a sincere warning?

Rocky Patel

These cigars were made by Rocky Patel, President of Indian Tabac Cigar Company and one of my favorite cigar makers.  Knowing his reputation for top quality and construction, and aware of the high ratings his cigars have received in prestigious cigar publications -- and because of my highly-favorable experience with his other products -- I reasoned that these warnings might just be legitimate.  This could very well be a knockout cigar.  Add to that his collaboration on this line with another of my favorite cigarmakers, Nestor Plasencia (maker of the Plasencia TKO -- soon to be reviewed), I was hoping for a dynamite experience.

Green & Black's is a very different kind of candy company.  Fascinatingly different, as a matter of fact.  Unlike the larger, older firms of Europe, Green & Blacks does business according to two basic principles: organic raw materials and fair trade to growers.  (In this respect they have much in common with Allegro coffees.)  Perhaps their most famous chocolate is the Maya Gold, a flavored chocolate which takes its inspiration from a local drink made by Mayan farmers (the descendants of those who first domesticated the cocoa bean).

After Nettle had tipped me off as to the existence of this fine line of products, I engaged in a long and arduous search for a local source for G&B chocolate.  I finally found it at Whole Foods Market, where I happened upon an extensive line of Green & Black's chocolates in a display that filled an entire shelf.  I picked out the Dark 70% variety, a hefty 100g (3.5 oz) bar which cost me USD 3.39.  Certified as organic by the California Certified Organic Farmers (CCOF) association, this chocolate was manufactured in Italy.  It is suitable for vegetarians and vegans.  The bar is conveniently divided into 30 small chunks, easily broken off.  Each chunk contains 1.3g fat, 1.6g carbohydrate (1.2g of which are sugar), and 0.3g protein.

As I opened the package I happily recalled a news report aired on sattelite radio a few days ago; in this report the health benefits of chocolate were outlined.  It seems that chocolate contains bioflavinoids which, if consumed moderately, are extremely beneficial to one's heart health and work toward cancer prevention.  But sadly, because of additives and processing, few chocolate products consumed in this country carry any benefit at all, it seems.  The higher the cocoa content and the "closer to nature" the better; after rigorous processing is complete and bountiful petrochemical additives are included, American-made "chocolates" (q.v.) contain little more than a mere trace of the good stuff.  But this G&B's, a 70% cocoa, organic chocolate, is chock full of healthy bioflavinoids!  Just as nature intended.

The aroma immediately told me that this is real chocolate.  Almost pungent, it made me feel like I might if I were there when the beans were being harvested.  This is natural chocolate, quite unlike the concoctions one finds at the gas station.  Color wasn't as dark as I had anticipated; but then again, there are no additives nor colorings in this stuff.  The chunks broke off easily, and when the time came, the chocolate put up little resistance to my incisors.  Texture was -- oh my, perfect!  Not the least bit waxy, a rich, creamy feel of cocoa butter filled my mouth.  A burst of chocolate bean flavor arrived, as if on a slight time delay; tannins were powerful but elegant and attractive, giving a pleasantly dry flavor to the not-too-sweet chocolate.  Billed as bittersweet, I'd describe it this way: tastefully dry while simultaneously moderately sweet, without being cloying. 

Unlike other 70% cocoa products out there (even the best of them!), this Green & Black's dark chocolate would please even the most ardent milk chocolate lover while completely satisfying the dark chocolate aficionado as well.  Its suitability to a vegan diet and its social consciousness also give it brownie points to many.  Not in the least bit intimidating, its soft, rich texture combined with its hearty cocoa flavor, mild sweetness and approachable tannins might just make G&B's Dark the one chocolate that milk- and dark-chocolate lovers can all agree upon.  The Cigar Journal wholeheartily declares Green & Black's 70% Cocoa Dark Chocolate to be highly recommended.

An old Cuban tobacco-growing family, the Toraño clan of today continues the age-old cigar-making tradition that flows through their veins.  And we, the cigar connoisseurs of the world, are fortunate to have them in the industry.  (Note: because of the tilde over the "n," the name "Toraño" is pronounced "to-RON-yo.")

My local tobacconist used to carry Toraño cigars, but a few years ago, for some unknown reason, they were no longer available there.  In fact, I couldn't find them anywhere.  I worried that the Toraño family was just another casualty of the 1990's cigar boom now gone bust.  But happily, a few months ago the owner announced to me that my Toraños were back -- and better than ever!  I was pleased.  I purchased three of the new line -- the Exodus 1959 -- smoked two right away, and laid the third down in my humidor to age a bit.  And last night, at Scotty Boy's urging, I lit that third one up.

The Exodus 1959 line commemorates the Toraño family's "exodus" or departure from the island of Cuba after the revolution of that year, together with so many other expert tobacco growers and makers.  As the tobacco farms and factories were nationalized, many families (including that of Carlos Toraño) escaped to the United States, most to the Miami area.  The Exodus 1959 line of cigars does more than commemorate the event; in my opinion, it goes a long way toward recovering the strength, flavor, appearance, quality, workmanship, and overall experience of those old Battista-era Cuban cigars.

The vitola I selected was the torpedo, a hefty 6.5 x 54 Cuban-pressed (i.e., semi-round) figurado with the look of days gone by.  It was a dark cigar, very, very oily, and had the smoothest and silkiest wrapper I'd seen in a while.  The shape was more rectangular than square.  The end was formed into a nice torpedo shape with a neat cap.  The stick had a lightish feel in the hand.  The overall impression was one of careful attention to detail, smooth construction, and quality.

The lightup was particularly intense.  Powerful bursts of wood and toast flavors dominated the initial experience.  This cigar was full-bodied right from the start, despite its large ring gauge (smaller ring gauges, in my experience, are stronger sooner).  The draw was on the light side of normal.

Two words could not describe this cigar: it was neither smooth nor creamy.  No, just the opposite -- in a good way, a very good way.  Amidst all that power I tasted ripe, sun-grown tobacco flavors.  Bold, vibrant and invigorating, this smoke definitely commanded one's attention.  My wife was enjoying the aroma, but paradoxically, to her it seemed "light."

This cigar could be likened to the trombone section in one of Mahler's more aggressive symphonic passages, expertly performed at a strong but not blaring fortissimo.  At fifteen minutes it was smoothing out; to continue the analogy the trombonists were still playing forte but the French horns had joined in, increasing the complexity a bit.  Consequently, my wife remarked that the aroma had "shifted;" it was now spicy, warm.  To me, the flavor could have been described in the same way.  And the draw was now perfect.

The construction was impeccable; the stick was burning perfectly.  I liked the feel of the rectangular cigar in my hand; there is something old-fashioned about it, almost nostalgic.  I had noted that this smoke was unusually slow-burning; I removed the first 1-1/2" of ash at half an hour.

The second third began as bold and hefty as before, but added flavor notes of peat and cedar served to make the cigar even more enjoyable.  At the halfway point the smoke remained remarkably consistent: bold, powerful, flavorful.  And at one hour I was enjoying the somewhat more complex, forte arpeggios, intricate passages executed flawlessly.  I removed a second inch and a half of chiseled gray ash.

At an hour and twenty minutes the stick had entered its last third.  Becoming increasingly powerful, the smoke was still enjoyable, but was beginning to be "on the edge."  Yet I continued to savor every puff.  After an hour and 45 minutes the cigar finally ended its life as a knuckle-burner, a mere 3/4" stub of its former self.  It had burned perfectly to the end, and the nicotine never became objectionable.

In my opinion the Toraño family has succeeded in recreating the bold (but not harsh), no-nonsense (but still invigorating), authoritative cigars that their family helped to produce before their untimely departure from Cuba in 1959.  For the brave connoisseur who is looking for reasonable cost, undeniable strength, good flavor, and knuckle-burning lasting power, I will go on the record to say that the Carlos Toraño Exodus 1959 Torpedo is highly recommended.

I plan to summarize all the Cigar Journal reviews each month, so that one could browse them with easy access.  Here are the Cigar Journal entries so far (remember, we've only been up and running since 06 January 2005).

Cigars:

Highly recommended:
Fonseca Colorado 6-50 (toro)
Oliva "O" Maduro Orion - a 7x54 behemoth!
Padrón 3000 5.5 x 52 Maduro
Padrón 3000 5.5 x 52 Natural (EMS)

Recommended:
Partagas Black Label Magnifico 6 x 54
Quintero Brevas: an entry-level Havana

Mildly recommended:
La Corona Perfecto X - Natural
La Vieja Habana Wavelle Dluxxe

Not recommended:

Other fine products:

Highly recommended:
Allegro Extra Dark French Roast Coffee
Café Mayorga "Genuine Counterfeit Cuban" Coffee

Recommended:
Citterio Rustico Calabrese: hot dry sausage
Lindt Excellence Dark Chocolate (70% Cocoa)
Lindt Dark Chocolate -- 85% Cocoa!
Paco Rabanne XS eXtreme: fragrance for men
SFL Raclette cheese from Auvergne, France

Mildly recommended:

Not recommended:

I attended a long-anticipated cigar rolling event at one of my three favorite tobacconists last week.  Unfortunately the genuine Cuban cigar roller had come down with the flu, so there was no rolling to be seen.  But the promoter had some fantastic deals -- and he recognized me from a previous event at one of my favorite haunts, 336 Main.  So he lavished me with special attention.  I walked out of there with a ton of free and highly-discounted cigars, one of which was this Fonseca.

I'm not normally the kind of guy who would smoke Fonsecas.  They're known to be mild to medium smokes, highly refined and elegant.  Plus, they're a bit on the expensive side.  But I decided to give this one a whirl; the promoter described it in glowing terms as the Fonseca Colorado, a new line with a true Colorado wrapper (the color, not hte state).  This line extension is aimed at moving Fonseca into the stronger cigar market, while keeping the Fonseca elegance intact.  It intrigued me; all the Fonsecas I'd ever seen had been clothed in ultra-light, Connecticut Shade wrappers -- and here was a darker, medium-brown, fuller-bodied cigar, but one with the prestigious Fonseca label. 

The cigar I selected from the line was the Fonseca Colorado 6-50, a classic toro size.  Retailing at $7.75, it sported two bands: the first, a standard gold, red and white Fonseca logo featuring the stylized "F"; and the second was below it, a plain red band with the word "Colorado" in fancy black script.  Very attractive, very classy.  The cigar itself didn't look like a Fonseca, but was darker and rosier than their standard or Vintage lines.  I would call this an EMS -- a true colorado.  It looked rather like a Punch -- it wasn't overly pretty but was obviously well-constructed.  The stick felt heavy and solid in the hand, and while still unlit, had a nice tobacco smell.

The cigar had a perfect draw.  The lightup was soft but I immediately noted a characteristically elegant Fonseca flavor.  My wife said, "Mmm!  That smells like toast!"  The initial flavor was more full than a typical mild cigar; I would describe it as being medium-bodied with plenty of good tobacco flavor.  Toasty and elegant.

Nutty, smooth and subtle, there may have been a balsawood component to the flavor.  The complexity increased as time went on.  This cigar certainly demands 100% of the smoker's time and attention; it's not one for the golf game, but rather, it is one for quiet and uninterrupted contemplation and relaxation.  The Fonseca Colorado 6-50 is milder than I would normally smoke, but is certainly robust enough for most cigar lovers.  The burn was good; not perfect, but okay.

At 35 minutes I removed 1-1/2" of mottled gray, compact ash.  The flavor had now become spicy.  Peppery.  More robust.  I thought to myself, "I like this cigar.  Would I have chosen it for myself if it weren't for the Cigar Journal?  Probably not.  But am I disappointed that I did?  Never!"  I was enjoying this smoke infinitely more than I had believed I would.  I was duly impressed by the quality of the blend.

As the stick neared the halfway point at around 40 minutes, the flavor was smooth, woody, and spicy.  This smoke was highly enjoyable -- interesting -- dare I say, fascinating!  Creamy and long, the finish was dominated by fresh wood and spice.  I perceived a sense of the finest hardwoods, fresh-sawn and aromatic.

At 55 minutes the stick entered its final third.  It was still smooth and was producing lots of fine flavor.  There were literally oodles of various flavor notes to explore, discern -- contemplate.

But alas! at 65 minutes the cigar was burning somewhat crooked.  Yet there was none of the usual harshness created by a less-than-perfect burn.  This was still an outstanding smoke.

At 70 minutes I began to feel the effect of nicotine; at 80 minutes, with 1-1/2" left, the flavor was now very, very full but its character had remained intact.  The spicy, long finish was immensely enjoyable.

I finally abandoned the stick after one and a half hours, for one reason only: too much nicotine.  At this point it was still not hot and was continuing to be enjoyable.  But the nicotine had gotten too much for me.  After finishing the cigar the flavor stayed with me for quite some time; the long, complex finish lingered, continuing to please.

This cigar is an excellent choice for fans of complex, medium-bodied cigars who also can devote their full attention to the cigar-maker's finest efforts.  I would not hesitate to declare the Fonseca Colorado 6-50 to be highly recommended.