Wrapper: Honduran Jamastran-grown Habano

Binder: Honduras

Filler: Honduras

Size: 5.2 x 50 Robusto

Body: Full

Price: $6.25

 

 

 

The whole pedigree name of this cigar is Sencillo Platinum by God of Fire.

Sencillo is a Honduran puro created by Keith Park and Christian Eiroa of Camacho cigars.

 

 

 

Construction is fairly solid with a nice oily wrapper. A minimal amount of veins. The color of the wrapper is a medium brown with a red hue in the light.

Cigar Afficionado gave the stick a 90. After smoking a few, I readily concur.

I suggest you have a substantial meal prior to smoking this baby. By the time you get to the end, you are seeing your ex-wife screwing your best friend.

The sniif-o-rama shows me light baking spices with a bit of cinnamon at the foot.

I use a punch and light up. First flavors are cinnamon apple. As well as oak and a rich earthiness. The draw is a delight. And the burn line is damn near perfect.

 

 

 

And then the spice enters the flavor profile. Black pepper…it’s black rather than red because I taste it on the insides of my cheeks while I taste red pepper on the tip of my tongue.

Smoke billows from each end like a forest fire. And it’s a strong medium body right off the bat.

And now comes the creaminess. I’m only half an inch in and these flavors are exploding like an over full enema bag.

I also taste toast. Have to rinse my mouth with water to detect that flavor.

 

 

 

The ash is not very strong as it makes a leap at the 1” mark.

The cap is a little funky. It’s beginning to come apart. You’d think with this pedigree, they would put a triple cap on it…but go figure.

As the first third comes to an end, the spice becomes red pepper as my tongue tingles from it. The creaminess backs up a bit and the other flavors back off into the distance as the spice overwhelms them.

The cap gets so sloppy, I’m forced to grab some scissors and trim it.

 

 

 

The second third brings around some leathery notes. And I get a strong cinnamon flavor. And some fruity notes too. Definitely getting some sweetness.

The second third brings back some creaminess that was missed toward the end of the first third. It’s becoming very smooth and well balanced now. And it is has morphed to full bodied.

I’m getting a bit of a buzz. It feels like 1968. Roach clip not required.

I have to admit, that with the minor problems, this is a very good cigar. The more I smoke into the second third, the more complex it becomes. Flavors are intermingling with each other. And it has a nice long finish.

 

 

 

The last third really ramps up the power. It is full bodied running on high octane.

While this is not a God of Fire, it is a nice example of what Christian Eiroa can do. This is not an expensive cigar. Although when you get up to the larger sizes, you start hitting the $8-$10 price range. The robusto is perfect for my needs as it is so strong, I don’t think I could handle a Churchill without putting it down several times so I can walk it off.

 

 

 

During the last third, I get some coffee notes and the creaminess is working overtime. The spice is there but no longer overwhelming like it was earlier. And the burn has remained near perfection.

The stick finishes out with a lot of satisfaction for a 60 minute cigar.

I’d like to thank myself for buying this cigar.

 

 

 

 

And now for something completely different:

 

 

 

It’s kind of funny where your passions take you. A cold makes me stop smoking for a while. A cold might make me take off work for a day or so….when I used to work for a living. But nothing stops a musician from playing a gig. Nothing.

I don’t remember where the gigs were…England, Europe…I can’t remember. But the whole band came down with the stomach flu. We made our road manager go out and buy plastic buckets.

We were all sick as dogs during the day of the gig. If you walked down the hotel hall way, you could hear projectile vomiting coming from several rooms.

Our cheap bastard manager, Miles Copeland, put us up in double bunks…all except for the violinist who was a prima donna. So the rest of us were pushing each other out of the single bathroom in the room so we’d have out turn at the toilet. It got nasty. I remember taking turns, opening the hotel window, and puking. Nasty.

The night of the gig, we each had our own buckets next to us. For the drummer and me, it was easy to conceal our evacuations as I could walk behind my amp and the drummer had a bucket placed right behind his stool.

The other 3 out front had no such luxury. So our 90 minute concert had several breaks as the vomiter grabbed his/her bucket to puke. The audience thought it a stunt until they began to hear dry heaves. People began to leave in droves. And then we heard sympathetic vomiting in the crowd. If I wasn’t so sick, I would have thought it funny.

But when we heard each other and the audience barfing, it would make us barf.

This had to be the most ungodly experience in my musical career.

A couple days later, all subsided. But not before making stops in our touring car to the side of the road every 5 minutes so someone could puke.

I don’t think I’ve ever been that sick since…and this was over 35 years ago.