Camacho Havana
3 07 2008I sat down Wednesday evening to relax and watch another thrilling
episode of “I Survived a Japanese Game Show”. To further enhance the
experience, I pulled out a Camacho Havana Churchill. The Havan comes
in 12 sizes. Why do we need 12 sizes of the same cigar? Is the blend
that good that it is marketable in 12 sizes? Does the market demand 12
sizes? I wonder if modern efficient manufacturing initiatives can
simply support 12 sizes by making more efficient use of variable leaf
sizes and therefore maximize the profit potential for a single cigar?
Camacho does not say.
The Havana is a fine looking cigar and a member of Camacho’s Premium
line of cigars. Camacho also has an Ultra Premium line of cigars that
includes the Tenth Anniversary, Triple Maduro, Liberty 2007 and Diploma
cigars. At this moment you might be wondering what makes an Ultr
Premium better than a Premium? After all, the Premium includes such
highly regarded smokes as the Corojo, Coyalar and Select and SLR
cigars. Curious, I searched for more information that might indicate
what the difference is between a standard Premium and an Ultra Premium
but alas, I could not find much. However, what i did find may be very
revealing I will leave that up to you. It seems that what
differentiates the two lines is availability (Ultra’s are limited, does
that mean Premiums are Unlimited?), where you can buy (Ultras are only
available at select retailers, those that purchase the right quantities
of Camacho product) and what you will pay. Not by quality, unless
scarcity indicates quality in which case we should all be driving
Edsels as they are very scarce.
But back to the Camacho Havana. Pre-light aroma was pleasant with a
hint of citrus, or maybe pepper. Lets just say it was spicy and leave
it up to your imagination. I cut the cigar with my Palio cutter and
found no surprises. No excess unidentified material or hollow spots.
The cigar exhibited a nice draw with a slight resistance and produced
buckets of smoke. The smoke was creamy and danced very beautifully
between me and bickering contestants trying to choke down a traditional
Japanese breakfast of shaved fished on “I Survived a Japanese Game
Show”. The taste was medium bodied (sorry Camacho, I can’t swallow
saying this is full bodied) with a nice spicy undertone and dark earth
flavors. It seemed to be a perfect match for the current entertainment
and a glass of raspberry iced tea. As I laughed raucously (always
wanted to use that word) at the contestant hanging from and trying to
pickup stuffed panda bears with claws in place of his hands (picture a
crane arcade game) I truly enjoyed the swirling smoke and flavorful
finish of the Camacho cigar. By this time, the Green Monkeys had
soundly defeated the Yellow Penguins and we were waiting to see who
would be nominated for the elimination challenge. I retreived another
glass of tea from the refrigerator and sat down to finish my cigar and
my game show. As I watched the unlucky elimination contenders began
their struggle against “the most powerful fan in Japan” I began to
notice that all was not right with my world. I began to empathize with
the contestants as the taste in my mouth turned from spicy Latin paella
to burnt cajun carp. I wondered just how hard it would be to walk on
semi-slick floor wearing tennis shoes into the exhaust of an airboat
fan. I decided it would not be all that hard afterall both contestants
were female, less than half my weight and had demonstrated an ability
to make reasonable progress. Even though the competitors were pelted
with inflatable beach toys (we all know dangerous an inflatable whale
is when hurled by high velocity winds) they both managed to deposit
several packages in the mail slots at the end of the walkway nearest
the “most powerful fan in Japan”. I paused and stared briefly at my
cigar, swirled my tongue in my mouth and then took another draw on the
cigar to be sure. The taste had turned to putrid rotten fruit and I
still had a third of the cigar and “I Survived a Japanese Game Show” to
go. With only a moments hesitation I dropped the cigar in the ashtray,
rinsed with ice tea and resumed watching “I Survived a Japanese Game
Show” just in time to see eight very happy Japanese men with various
haircuts and dressed like Buddy Holly carry the tearful loser out of
the studio in disgrace. I wondered if I could get them to carry out the
Camacho Havana in the same manner?
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