Poolside Smokes

Recently my wife and spent an afternoon at the swimming pool Sally swore she was on the straight an narrow and would not be smoking anything. I took a couple extra stogies just in case.

One was a Don Tomas Classico Churchill, which had been rated #23 in 2006 by the fortunate aesthetes at Cigar Aficionado. Sun, poolside, and the biggest, longest, bad-assed-lookingest cigar in my humidor: Sounded like a good combination. I also hedged my bets in case the Don disappointed, packing an Indian Tabac Super Fuerte robusto. Short but fiesty, if my memory served me right.

By the time we'd settled into our lounge chairs and I'd fired up the Don, Sally was visibly squirming, reading her celebrity magazine and trying to act like the smoke wafting past her nose wasn't distracting her. It must have smelled better to than it tasted: This Don Tomas Classico was lighter than a vanilla wafer, and a lot less flavorful. It wasn't woody, or earthy, or sweet, or complex. Just soft, dainty smoke. Not good. I pinned my hopes on the second or third inch opening up into robustness. It could happen.

About the time I was burning past inch #1, my wife broke down. "I can't stand it," She said. "Did you bring anything for me?"

"You said not to."

"But why did you believe me? You should know better."

I handed her a Swisher Sweet. She had actually bought a pack of these crap-sticks on the drive up. "Nah," she said. "I want something bigger."

I handed her the Don Thomas that I was getting bored with. She took it, drew, and immediately started raving about how good it tasted.

I left Sally to her mild glory and whipped out the Indian Tabac Super Fuerte. From the first tawny puff, I knew I had found the right smoke for the poolside. Compact but brawny, this hearty lad transported me to a realm of savage plains populated by wild buffalo and whooping hunter-gatherers. A bit of Rocky Patel's proclivity for Asian spice bubbled up occasionally, hinting at his later career trajectory. This Indian was just fine. Great quality for the price, which is about one-third what you pay for a name-brand Rocky Patel.

Every five minutes or so, I asked the wife for a pull on the Don Tomas, just to keep tabs. Nothing special seemed to be happening. Same dull, spiceless flavor. Sally claimed to be enjoying it, but halfway through, she handed it back to me. "I've had enough," she said cheerfully.

(Note to self: Never give a girl a Churchill. It's a waste of precious real estate.)

Now I was stuck holding two cigars. I'd puff on the Indian, wait a minute or two, then puff on the Don. This worked for about 10 minutes but I waited too long at one point, lost in a reverie, and the next thing I knew the Indian had gone out.

So I finished off the Don, and yes, it finally developed some flavor during the last two inches. But is that what you really want from a Churchill? Four inches of boredom for two inches of fun? I think not.

A half hour later, I picked up the cold Indian, clipped off the ashes, and fired up its remaining two inches. Now there was a closer: Power down to the nub. Force and flavor almost as good as a Rocky Vintage. I rose from my lounge chair, a happy man, and almost fell over.

Note to self: Remain seated for at least 5 minutes after finishing a medium-to-full Rocky blend.