About eight years ago, Kingantz, our most prolific cigar reviewer, got out of the cigar game, and he kindly sent me a handful from his stash with the request that I review a particular cigar he was sending along. I foolishly agreed to this. The extra cigar was a massive thing, as long as my shinbone. It was Puros Indios...which is not my cup of tea. It is maduro, which I don’t like. This behemoth has been cluttering up my wineador for too long, and it’s time I bit the bullet.
The wrapper is much nicer than I expected, and I feel only one soft spot about a foot up the length of the cigar. I punched the cap, and used my triple flame to light the damn thing. Good thing I have an extra can of butane. The first few puffs don’t taste like much. It’s quite mild, and having eighteen inches to travel, the smoke is cool by the time it gets to me. I was afraid draw would be a problem, but it’s not. There’s a taste that reminds me of laundry detergent. I settle in with a Guinness, and prepare for a long haul.
About thirty minutes in, and I feel like I haven’t made much of a dent. It’s....fine...so far. Not good, but better than my low expectations. The laundry detergent flavor is still present, but it could be worse.
After an hour, it’s starting to have a charred meat flavor, and the draw is getting a little tighter.
Ninety minutes in, and I’m asking myself what I’ve gotten myself into. It still has to be fifteen inches long. At least the detergent taste is gone.
Two and a half hours in, and I’m just bored with this. My jaw is sore, and I’m not enjoying it. Obviously the thing is just a gimmick, but it’s becoming painful. I’ll go to the three hour mark, but then I’m throwing in the towel.
Three hours in. I’m trying not to feel defeated, but I have been. This is a monster, that no one should smoke. Is it bad? No, the flavor is okay, but after three hours, okay is not enough.
The spectre of this cigar that has loomed over me for eight years has been exorcised. Kingantz, the job is done, damn you.