Wrapper: Habano Ecuador
Size: Torpedo 6.125 x 52
The Rocky Patel Fifteenth Anniversary Torpedo came in at No 6 on Cigar Aficionado’s Best of 2011. The blend was described as “a Decade on steroidsm,” by Patel. Rocky also described it as “My best blend ever.”.
The construction is a little dicey. Almost rustic. Some large veins and very visible overlaps of tobacco leaves. It's a medium dark, trunk-pressed cigar that's wrapped in Ecuadoran tobacco grown from Habano seeds. The binder and filler are entirely Nicaraguan. This stick is made at the Tabacalera Villa Cuba S.A. cigar factory in Estelí, Nicaragua. Patel owns the factory along with Amilcar P. Castro….who blended some Famous Smoke house cigars for him.
The cigars there are made with triple caps, the bunching is done entubado style, a slow process where each filler leaf is rolled in a sort of tube, and the cigars get two binder leaves rather than simply one.
The prelight draw smacks of barnyard and intensifies at the foot with the addition of some sweetness.
Once lit, I taste a rich tobacco flavor followed quickly by a wallop of pepper that lasts for half an inch. Following that first half inch, it broadens out into a flavor profile of leather, creaminess, some nuttiness, and cedar. The char line is very nice. Starts out perfect and seems to want to stay that way.
I’ve allowed this cigar to marinate in my humidor for over a month. I’m sure with more time, it will get more complex. But I have to admit it, I like this cigar. As far as being on steroids? Well, we will leave that experience to Mr. Patel.
The body is right in the pocket of medium at the halfway point. And I must say that I feel like I’m smoking a grown up’s cigar. The main flavor is rich tobacco, Patel makes so many blends, he probably has a whole department scratching their heads trying to keep track of them.
This is sort of an airy cigar. It’s not packed tightly, but not floppy, like my old grandfather’s testicles. So, it smokes fast. The ash lasted maybe ¾” and fell to the floor.
I am truly enjoying this cigar. But would I buy it again? Not at $15 a pop. As good as it is, it should be more in line at $8.
Just past the halfway point, the burn is getting a little ragged. But I don’t touch it up hoping it rights itself.
At this point, the body is ramping up. The spice is gone. I’m left with a very creamy, nutty smoke. The tobaccos really shine. This is one of those rare smokes where the quality of the tobacco is the star.
The last half is a winner. It’s smooth. Creamy like an Egg Cream Soda. And the spice makes a subtle return. It’s a really well balanced cigar.
I want to thank the folks at Prime Cigar in Brookfield, Wisconsin for the treat.
This is a story about an incident that happened prior to Arab Spring and the take down of Ghadaffi. I was asked by certain, special people, that have a lot to do with how the world works, to meet with the Libyan President.
I told them no. ”This guy is a fruit cake and I don't like fruit cake."
But they kept hammering me and then used the one tool they had in hiding: an I.R.S audit.
“OK...I'll go. But you supply the sticks. On your dime,” I told them.
It was a long plane trip. I don't sleep well on planes. So I drank about 35 sugar free Yoo Hoos and hit the head a lot.
A jeep picked me up at the airport in an undisclosed location. A soldier was my driver.
“How you doin'?” I said.
He looked at me and spit.
“All right then....off to a good start. How about if I remove all the veins in your neck for you,” I said with a smile.
He spit on me again. So I spit back. We did this a few times until he got a bug flew into his mouth and he choked. So I let him have it with a barrage of spits while he gasped for air. I shoved him out of the jeep because I could see our destination and I figured he'd have a better chance getting the bug out of his mouth bouncing on the ground.
I parked in front of a bunker. I grabbed my travel humidor and walked straight through the front door of the bunker. Two guards spit on me as I entered. I figured I'd get them on the way out.
And there he was. Sitting on a throne, but smaller than I had expected.
“How you doin', Moe?”
Gaddafi rose and began a tirade with a lot of spittle coming from his mouth while he pounded the table in front of him.
“Calm down, Moe. You're beginning to give me a headache. You want a cigar?”
He stopped the rambling and asked in broken English, “What kind you got?”
“Lets see here,” as I went through my options.....here it is. A CIA Pato Ecuadorian Pinko Habano.. How's this?” And, oh yeah, it doesn’t taste like dates.
He calmed down immediately. “I hate dates.”
“OK.” I snipped the end and handed it to him. He smelled the cigar up and down and said he could smell sweet spice and walnuts. “This is good. I no smell dates.”
"Now listen here Moe. You have had just about enough time in power. You know you gotta' get out. C'mon. Since 1969? You want them to bury you on your throne or do you want to spend your last days on a beach in the Bahamas drinking rum and smoking cigars...spending the billions you stole from your people?”
Moe said to me, “I President. I don't have to leave.! Mama Fucker!”
“Yeah you do, you putz. Your people are sick of you and your behavior. Let me tell you a secret.”
I leaned over closer to him and he leaned in. I whispered into his ear and his eyes got bigger and bigger.
“If that's the way you want to go out, go for it. No skin off my back.” He leaned back and sucked on his cigar.
I gave Moe a chance to think of his chances with his people ready to storm the gates in order to take back their dignity and humanity.
Moe didn't care about that. He was more concerned that if he didn't do what I suggested and get the hell out of Dodge...and soon...I'd be letting a certain small country have access to him and he can live out his days eating matzoh ball soup...with extra dates.
The Bahamas seemed like a better choice. And no taxes.
“OK. You ready to go?”
Moe looked at me with sad eyes. And nodded his head yes.
We got up, I spit in his face, he spit in mine and we walked towards the entrance of the bunker. I pushed Moe out first and his soldiers spit on him thinking it would be me. They spent the rest of their days in an Abu Dhabi prison living on dates and water. Stale dates.
And you know the rest.