WARPED CHINCHALLE | CIGAR REVIEW
Updated: Jan 20, 2022
JANUARY 16, 2022 - PHIL KURUT, COMEDY - CIGARS - MUSIC
WARPED CHINCHALLE ROBUSTO (5 x 50)
WRAPPER: ECUADORIAN HABANO 2000 ROSADO
BINDER: DOMINICAN HVA
FILLER: DOMINICAN REPUBLIC
The Chinchalle releases an ample helping of spice, leather, earth, and leathery dark chocolate by way of an effortless first draw. Mild spice gently coats the inner walls of my nostrils, allowing for earth and leather to pass through smoothly. Spice and leather rest hand in hand on the finish.
The Chinchalle presents as a featherweight but punches more in the middleweight class. Kind of like the kid on the playground everybody thinks they can take in a fight until they try to take him in a fight.
The burn slants only slightly, and the smoke output doesn’t disappoint.
A fruit/floral combination bobs and weaves, challenging me a bit. Nuttiness feathers a glancing jab in the retrohale.
And, the ash? The picture speaks for itself.
Almond now embeds itself in the leather, making for an interesting combination. Spice handles the fancy footwork. Agile, light, and never clumsy.
Frankly, the Chinchalle dances a bit out of my wheelhouse, but it’s keeping me interested. Not sure if that makes sense to you, but I know what I mean.
The fruit/floral combination continues to move gracefully, sometimes mixing in with the leathery almond. Interesting partners. Maybe like the tall skinny guy with the short fat best friend. I used to be the short fat best friend. Follow me on Tik-Tok as I lip sync and badly dance you through my weight loss journey by way of terrible pop songs. There will be tears…of regret…on your part.
Speaking of terrible pop songs and regret, I recently had a discussion with a cigar buddy who said he’s always looking for the next best thing. I warned him that with my experience as a musician, sometimes looking for the next best thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. That’s how we got Taylor Swift.
So that whole “not in my wheelhouse but keeping me interested” thing. It’s like when you go to a concert to see your favorite band. You don’t really care about the opening act, but by the end of their set you can’t get one of the songs they played out of your head. A lot of their songs sounded the same, but they played the heck out of ‘em. And, you think you liked them, but you can’t put your finger on what it was that caught your attention. Maybe just being good was enough.
And, just like that, a dash of chocolate sneaks in. Some floral joins the retrohale.
Where did the boxing talk go? I have no idea. When I’m relaxing with a cigar, my mind wanders to wherever the cigar happens to take me. So, naturally, that’s where my reviews go.
The band takes a bit of the wrapper with it like the crazed women grasping Elvis’ sweaty scarves. Never understood that. Anyway.
I begin to baby the Chinchalle a bit as the wrapper starts to crack from the greedy band’s damage. Can’t really blame the cigar for that.
Leather and spice have taken over in the final round, allowing the slightest bit of room for some fruit, and the Chinchalle isn’t looking great after that massive punch the band gave it last round. Still fighting. Gotta respect that. Apparently, I’m back to boxing. If you preferred the music angle, then let’s say the drummer broke his snare head just over midway through the last song, but he’s found a way to make it slam through the arena. Big venue. Good for him.
Leather and just the slightest hint of spice still settle in on the finish, mimicking the retrohale.
For some reason, I’m reminded of a Dave Matthews Band concert I went to years ago. We had pretty good seats. Towards the end of the concert, a gentleman in, let’s say an altered state, began dancing beside us. I guess you could call it dancing. I glanced over at him, and thought, “You just keeping doing your thing, bud.” I would have said it to him, but I don’t think he would have heard me, and I didn’t want to confuse him with the fact that other humans were around him. A guy in an altered state at a Dave Matthews Band concert. Weird.
For all that bruising, the Chinchalle ends out with its wrapper intact. Merely a flesh wound. Monty Python. Anyone?
SMOKE TIME: 1 hr. 34 mins.
RATING: 3 / 4 - Not the band I came to see, but, man, that song is catchy.
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