Chesapeake Smoke

The opening weeks of 2010 found this correspondent accompanying his wife as she meandered amongst the stalls of our island’s 25^th annual street craft show.  I had brought along a nice Dominican torpedo that I had bought at an Islamorada shop to smoke while she looked for something we did not know we needed until she saw it.  We had just passed another bizarre booth in this land of the mega-weird, when I felt the need to begin my smoke.

Yup, they were selling clothes for our tropical dogs

After fishing in my pockets for my torch lighter, I discovered that it was out of butane gas.  My disappointment did not last long.  Less than two minutes later I spotted another cigar aficionado about to light up.  This tourist’s stick was a fine hecho en Habana Churchill.  His torch was cooperative in the bright noonday sun.  As we fired our smokes up, we heard several women behind us exclaim disapprovingly “Ewwww, they stink.  Ugh!”

My confrere without missing a beat turned to these ladies and instantly rejoined “You’re off the Christmas card list.”  As my stogie’s nicotine kicked my cerebral cortex into overdrive, I felt myself channeling Lewis Carroll’s hookah-smoking caterpillar.  Thus inhabited, I supported my new best smoking friend by blowing three large smoke rings in our detractors’ general direction while hissing, “You’re . . . outta . . . da will!”

We should never forget that the smoke from a fine cigar possesses the power to release one’s inner smartass.

Reporting live from my chair in America’s Caribbean wonderland

-Southernmost Smoker

Copyright © 2010 From My Isle Seat

My wife and I vacationed this past week in a rented RV. We’re checking out the mobile lifestyle which may, if we can keep from killing each other in these close confines, may become a big part of retirement.
So here we are at the Nemacolin Resort in southwestern Pennsylvania. In the middle of friggin’ nowhere. We came to the area for some white-water rafting on the lower Youghiogheny River, affectionately known to the local as the Yough (pronounced “Yuck”). Sounds appealing, doesn’t it?
But I digress. We’ve got the RV parked in the RV ghetto, where it won’t offend the sensibilities of the resort crowd trying to get in 18 holes. In looking at a map of the resort, my wife points out the Cigar Bar! She’s a keeper, no question about it.
After a very opulent dinner at their flagship restaurant (there are at least ten different eateries here), we adjourned to the cigar bar. Even though it’s smack in the middle of a hotel/resort complex, it is alive and well. Apparently, Pennsylvania lawmakers aren’t anti-tobacco Nazis like the clowns we have to endure in the DC-Maryland-Virginia part of the world.
Walking in, there’s a smallish cigar shop with wall humidors encased by glass doors. I checked out the selection briefly … a lot of the usual suspects. But I was dismayed to find a Hemingway Short Story box filled instead with regular Fuente Robustos. I didn’t look closely enough to see if they were charging Short Story prices.
On into the bar area. A bartender was there to take our orders … Drambuie and an Oban. Thence to the lounge. Very nicely appointed, with a variety of couches, chairs and tables. No TV, thank God! Especially given that this resort is centered on its golf course, I really had no desire to watch yet another golf tournament on the tube.
Now the answer to the question on everybody’s lips … what did I smoke? I grabbed a Diamond Crown zip-lock bag with some sticks in it as we loaded up last Monday, wasn’t really sure what was in there. Imagine my surprise when I opened it yesterday to find a half-dozen Fuente Añejos and a Cuban Montecristo! So, rather than plunk down resort prices for a commonly-available stick, I parked myself across from my bride and fired up that Añejo. A rare treat indeed. Rich, robust, and spicy, yet oh so smooth. My indulging bride managed to enjoy her drink along with me, courtesy of a silent yet highly efficient exhaust/ventilation system.
And then, when it was over, time to find a shuttle bus and head back to the RV.

Last Saturday, I had the pleasure to meet and talk at some length with Bobby Newman, Executive V.P. for the J. C. Newman Cigar Company, the folks who bring us Diamond Crown, Brickhouse and other fine brands.  And while I smoked several Brickouse Churchills during my eight-hour shift at Davidus of Annapolis that day, Bobby and I discussed much more than cigars.

Several years ago, after meeting some soldiers who’d been seriously wounded in Iraq, J. C. Newman established a charitable fund, Paws for Patriots.  Since 2003, they’ve provided 144 fully trained guide dogs to veterans who’ve been blinded in action.  That may not sound like a huge number, but at a cost of $60,000 to train each dog, the investment in our wounded warriors is pretty significant.  Paws for Patriots is part of Southeastern Guide Dogs, a 501 (c) (3) organization, and I encourage each of you to follow the link to their site and fire off a donation.  Every little bit helps.

http://www.guidedogs.org/

Last Sunday, my son and I took in a Capitals’ game at the Verizon Center.  We discussed lunch options, then went to Tony Cheng’s Mongolian Barbecue in Chinatown.   Great eats!

We had time to spare, and his ears perked up when I told him about R.F.D. (http://www.lovethebeer.com/rfd.html), on 7th St.  They’ve got 32 beers on tap, and well over a hundred more in bottles.  And real beer, none of that Bud Light crap.  Although they do carry Miller Lite, classified as beer with training wheels.  We grabbed a couple Commodore Perry IPAs from Great Lakes Brewery, and strolled around, looking for a place to sit.  We finally parked ourselves in a grotto-ish area between the main bar area and the back bar.  All at once, we noticed the ashtrays sitting not very far away.  Ashtrays, in a DC restaurant?

Sure enough, we were in a kind of open-air area used for parties and special events.  When I asked a waitress if we were in the designated smoking area, she smiled and said “Yes.”

Yes!  A place to sit in DC, enjoy a good burger and real beer, catch a Caps game on one of the many TV screens, and burn a stogie!

I plan to head back soon and test it.  Could end up being one of those places where they allow coffin nails, but aren’t keen on cigars.  Only one way to find out, right?

Follow us to find out if Shelley’s Backroom has competition as a DC venue for a smoke and a brew.

Some more observations on life and cigars from an old shipmate, the Southernmost Smoker, writing from his isle seat in Key West:

Several Tuesdays past marked this year’s Mardi Gras.  Right up until then we spent our time on this coral island feasting, drinking, smoking and raising hell, since fasting and penance are now our fate and pathway during the Lenten season.

Back in 2001 through 2004 this southernmost cigar smoker and wife lived in local Navy base housing next door to the naval air station’s weather guesser.  Born and raised in New Orleans, he started life as an aerographer’s mate onboard the USS Midway and steadily rose through the ranks.

During several severe hurricane seasons, this mustang Naval officer became a cherished member of our island’s Navy and civilian communities.   His calm demeanor and accurate prognostications shepherded us all safely through the seven named storms that whacked our Caribbean island chain.

His lot was tough as each storm approached the island, since he was forced to stay in a concrete, 300 MPH wind resistant emergency services bunker while he sent his family to the mainland with the rest of the base’s uniformed members and dependents.

In 2005, his suffering became almost unbearable when almost all of his and his wife’s extended family homes were totally destroyed when hurricanes Katrina and Rita thumped New Orleans and the Gulf coast.  Nonetheless, during this time and under his kid’s and grandchildren’s angelic influence, he kicked his life long, multiple pack per day cigarette habit.

Sensing his desperation under such ceaseless pressure during the particularly bad 2004 & 2005 storm seasons, I gently introduced him to pleasures of the leaf.   Not wanting him to backslide, I limited his stogie therapy sessions to a one per week schedule.  We would often repair with a cordial in hand each Sunday evening to one of our carports with their views of the Atlantic Ocean 50 yards in the distance to smoke something I had brought back from a friend’s store in the metro DC area.

The Navy relocated this friend in early 2006 to his native New Orleans for his final tour in the military.  He left the island with a humidor full of his, my and his island friends’ leaf selections and without his previous deep cigarette smoker’s cough.  He plans to retire this April after 30 years of service including two war zone tours.

Obviously the gods felt they had to reward him for staying away from coffin nails for so long.  Consequently he was graced with a surprise invitation this year to ride one of the Krewe of Caesar Mardi Gras parade floats in his home town.  Attached are some photos of him and the Navy Recruiting Float.  He said he had a blast riding with the New Orleans’ Hornets Mascots.  From the attached photos it looks like being a rock star with beads.

Weather guesser LCDR Bryan Blankenship (r) and friend enjoying some fine Cuban leaf before riding their float in the Krewe of Caesar 2010 Mardi Gras parade

Mentoring new smokers is its own reward.

Mardi Gras 2009 Navy Recruiting Float

Weatherguesser with the New Orleans Hornets' Mascots

- Southernmost Smoker

Copyright © 2010 From My Isle Seat

And now, some random thoughts on the cigar business and the cigar life from an old shipmate, the Southernmost Smoker, so called because he’s firmly ensconced in retirement in Key West, writing from his isle seat:

For various reasons, this smoker has reduced down his cigar consumption to one or two stogies per week.  With the country’s economy up in smoke and tourism off in the Florida Keys, close to half of the island chain’s cigar stores have closed.  More than a few of those that survive have downsized and stopped carrying a wide selection of premium sticks.  The number of local Cuban refugee rollers has also sadly dwindled.

Consequently, we see little to nothing in the way of new off island product.  When we do, the supply is limited.  You may miss out if you do not maintain a close relationship with the tobacconists.  With the tourist trade off, many of our best retail experts have been forced to leave our coral isle making these connections problematic.

The nearest shop with a consistently excellent selection is a little over eighty miles away in the upper Keys.  Given the US 1’s low speed limits, that clocks in as a two-hour drive.

Cigars in the Keys at Mile Marker 82 along US 1

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It was opened last year by a mid-50’s boomer couple that owns and operates a chain of premium cigar stores in the Cleveland Ohio area.  Their Islamorada shop’s amenities are nice, selection depth and breadth above average, product quality high, and prices excellent.

Not surprising given the bursting of the mainland’s real estate bubble, many Miami area cigar stores have downsized or closed.  Whenever we go to the mainland, I visit Miami’s famous Cuban-American neighborhood called Little Havana.  Along Calle Ocho, there are several stores in which you may still watch Cuban immigrants roll fine sticks. The place I always visit is La Gloria Cubana shop along that boulevard.

La Gloria Cubana store on Miami’s Calle Ocho

The salesmen are friendly, the sticks superb and prices just right.  Oftentimes I go into the space next door to the showroom and chat with the rollers.

Cigar Rollers in Little Havana

One should never forget that the smoke from a fine cigar possesses the power to chase away the economic blues.

- Southernmost Smoker

Copyright © 2010 From My Isle Seat

The Davidus Cigar chain in Maryland had the good sense to close on Saturday, as the blizzard forecasts only continued to get worse.  But they kept up their outreach to the customer base through a photo contest, offering  box of cigars to the winner.

Bob Weber was the winner, and deservedly so …

Banished

Does that remind you of a Monty Python skit?  If so, you’re old as dirt, like me.

But in a different vein … the spam filters here work like a champ.  It amazes me how many comments come in on various posts that are either gibberish or come from a .ru domain or are advertising online pharmaceutical sales.  But I’ve been able to block it all, so when you’re reading this blog, you only have to think of Spam in its traditional, mystery-meat sense.

Any Monty Python, of course.

Happy smoking!

Well, folks, it’s time to get away from pleasant things like cigar reviews and family reminiscing. The Nanny State is back on our collective asses and trying to gain more traction.

Matt Krimm from Draper’s (http://www.wcurtisdraper.com/), a wonderful smoke shop in DC, put out a call last month for Draper’s regulars to bombard the DC City Council with e-mails. Why, you ask? Because the City Council, having nothing better to do, like fix DC’s broken school system, fight AIDS and other health issues, or do something about rampant drug abuse and addiction, has set their sights on smoking. Yes, sports fan, they’re after us again. After enacting two tax increases in the space of 72 hours (neither of which affected premium cigars), they were looking at enacting a “sidewalk smoking ban.” The effort worked, and a flood of e-mails to the anti-smoking Nazis saved the day … for now.

No sooner do our fellow Brothers of the Leaf convince the DC City Council to back off than the federales get involved. The House of Representatives, in its effort to chip away at the $1.6 trillion deficit, is considering HR4439, which would impose – are you sitting down? – a 775% federal tax increase on pipe tobaccos. SCHIP wasn’t enough, those greedy bastards want more. Follow this link to the IPCPR Legislative Action Center to contact your so-called representative and tell him/her how you feel about this absurd taxation: http://capwiz.com/rtda/issues/alert/?alertid=14599891

Whatever they were smoking on Capital Hill must have made its way to Annapolis, because the House of Delegates of the Peoples’ Democratic Republic of Maryland is considering House Bill 88, which would authorize state control of how retail tobacconists do business, including higher taxes (this taxation thing sounds like a broken record) and possibly forcing tobacconists to only buy cigars from in-state distributors. Bottom line, we as consumers are looking at potentially higher prices.

Stop the madness! Call or write your Delegate and tell them to keep their hands off our smoke shops.

While I’ve got the laptop fired up, and while I still remember my password to WordPress, it’s probably a good time to upload another guest review from my friend Dale Green, this time on Padron’s #45 …

Hello fellow lovers of the leaf.  I recently returned from overseas, just in time to attend a very special event.  I had the distinct pleasure and privilege of meeting Jorge Padron, President of Padron Cigars and son of founder, Jose Padron.  I missed the opportunity to meet him last year when he came through Baltimore because I was deployed again, so I made sure my schedule didn’t conflict this time, though it was a close one.  I had been very much looking forward to this event, not only because it was an opportunity to meet Mr. Padron, but also because he was bringing with him the new Padron Family Reserve No. 45.  Ever since reading the posting about them by Jorge Armenteros in the Tobacconist University Forum, I have been anticipating the opportunity to enjoy what was certain to be a fine cigar.

Jorge Padron was an extremely personable man.  He had a very genuine smile on his face the whole time and shared several stories with me.  Two of my favorites were the stories of when, after graduating college, he told his father that they should replace the plain brown bands on their cigars with something more flashy to increase sales, following which his father put him in his place in no uncertain terms; and of how his cousin, who he says the family just refers to as the “crazy cousin,” de-fuzed a bomb someone had placed in their Miami facility about thirty years ago.

So on to the good stuff.  The 45 is a Nicaraguan puro made from tobaccos aged at least ten years!  Now that’s good anejamiento.  It is being offered as a box-pressed, parejo (6 x 52 – Toro vitolla) in both natural and maduro, which frankly can’t be visibly differentiated. The appearance was beautiful.  The wrapper was dark and consistent with no visible flaws.  Its construction was just right; firm yet slightly flexible, and recovered immediately from the squeeze test, all characteristics of a high quality, well-made cigar.  It also had a very interesting feel, not silky but perhaps best described as sleek with a fascinating texture that close examination revealed to cover the whole wrapper.  I enjoyed the pre-light aroma very much, which can only be described as subtle and understated with a hint of sweetness.

I made a punch-cut and tested the draw, which was perfect.  It offered just the right amount of resistance without effort and the draw-volume was excellent.  It lit easily and evenly, signaling that the best was yet to come.  From the very first puff, the 45 was full-bodied, robust, balanced, and strong, but in no way overpowering.  It produced copious amounts of thick, blue-grey smoke, characteristic of quality tobacco, that you didn’t want to blow out as much as let it just roll out of your mouth.  It had a creamy overall mouth-feel while producing a spicy tingle all around the tongue.  It burned evenly without any problems or even a re-light and produced an attractive, firm and dense, light-grey ash with dark undertones.  As it continued to smoke, the flavor and strength mellowed but lost none of the complexity or balance all the way to the end, and I smoked it down to the nub.  Jorge told me he smoked about one thousand cigars while trying to reach the right balance and flavor for the 45.  It shows because in my opinion, this cigar has umami.

My overall opinion of the Padron Family Reserve No. 45 is that it is an outstanding cigar.  I recommend you enjoy it slowly and on a full stomach because the strength in the beginning was undeniable.  It is complex and balanced throughout and deserves your attention while being smoked.  In my area, after taxes they came out to $27 and change each.  I really wanted to buy a whole box and let them continue to age in my humidor but I just couldn’t get away with it right now so I grabbed a handful and will be sorry to see the last one go.  Bravo-Zulo to the Padron family for the 45.

I wish you Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.

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