I was complaining to a friend, who also smokes a pipe, about the complexities of burning a bowl in my area. It is warm, humid and one cannot smoke inside by law or complaint, which leads to standing around in some out-of-the-way place trying to pack a quarter bowl because of a lack of time and air conditioning to make a full bowl palatable.
"I get that here," he said, "but for the opposite reason: most of the year, it's very cold out. The wind whips the fire out of your pipe, and you want to go in after five minutes, maybe ten at the most. So I got these little cigarillos and I smoke those. You're done in, like, ten minutes."
Having always associated cigarillos with unsavory characters lingering in alleys (not that there's anything wrong with lingering in alleys) I had never considered these. But I bravely took the plunge and acquired a ten-unit tin of Macanudo Robusto Maduro "ascots," which apparently is a fancy name for "small cigar."
The little blighters are the length of a business card, and about as thick around as the gas line on a 2005 Tercel. That is, not very thick, but in proportion to what you might expect from a cigar, not the long skinny shape of cigarettes (the supermodels of the tobacco world). They come individually wrapped and some poor soul had to actually slide little paper bands on each one so the branding was intact.
Classy indeed. Did I mention the tin is quite attractive, and I plan on using it as a pencil case? Sometimes I worry that smoking is for men what potpourri, collectibles and spa days are for women. Any time I see fancy tobaccos named Eileen's Dream or Apricots & Cream I think I'm about to have a one-hour appointment with someone named Sondara who cuts my hair, listens to my life's problems, pats me on the back when I cry and then brings me a cup of artisanal herb tea with a sprig of dill in it.
On to the ascots. I can't get over how cute these things are, like baby cigars as puppies are baby dogs. Unwrapping the plastic wrapper yields a pint-size smoke which must be cut like a "real" cigar before it can be smoked. The smoking experience lasts about 20 minutes at my pace. These are full-flavor and full-powered cigars, just in smaller dose, with what looks like less full leaf and more trimmings used to stuff them. I hope to be able to dissect one someday and find out. The smoke is rich, and after a short bitterness, quickly becomes a buttery and creamy smoke with undertones of dark oils and a meaty surliness that appeals to the Jack London in all of us. As the ascot burns to a nub, vitamin N kicks up a degree and the greater density of both oils and sugars broadens the flavor. The first third of the mini-cigar tastes more like a strong cigarette, and the rest more like a pipe than a regular cigar.
As a smoking option, the ascot cannot be defeated by simple arguments. It is flavorful, yes, and has some strength of nicotine. There is less kit and gear than with pipes. It is faster than either a cigar or a full pipe bowl, and the bedraggled end can be cast down the nearest sewer grate when finished. But, you still need a tiny cigar-cutter or pocketknife and table on which to cut the end, and it still takes longer than a cigarette, so I can see why there are few cigarillo enthusiasts waxing lengthy about the superiority of this form. It is good for what it is, but what it is does not deliver enough of the advantages implicitly promised by its form.
One more caution I must offer is that our local liquor shack, Spec's, keeps these outside of its humidor. As a result, they are kind of dry, which leads to cracking of the wrapper and some loss of internal pressure. I am not sure why mini-cigars do not get the same treatment that full-size ones do, but it may have to do with their audience. The shorter the smoke, the less one is presumed to care about qualitative issues, I suppose. I can recommend these as cigarillos, as the Macanudo Robusto Maduro (or is it Maduro Robusto?) is the best of breed. But whether I can recommend cigarillos or not is another issue, and one not easily decided by the circumstances under which I enjoyed these.
"I get that here," he said, "but for the opposite reason: most of the year, it's very cold out. The wind whips the fire out of your pipe, and you want to go in after five minutes, maybe ten at the most. So I got these little cigarillos and I smoke those. You're done in, like, ten minutes."
Having always associated cigarillos with unsavory characters lingering in alleys (not that there's anything wrong with lingering in alleys) I had never considered these. But I bravely took the plunge and acquired a ten-unit tin of Macanudo Robusto Maduro "ascots," which apparently is a fancy name for "small cigar."
The little blighters are the length of a business card, and about as thick around as the gas line on a 2005 Tercel. That is, not very thick, but in proportion to what you might expect from a cigar, not the long skinny shape of cigarettes (the supermodels of the tobacco world). They come individually wrapped and some poor soul had to actually slide little paper bands on each one so the branding was intact.
Classy indeed. Did I mention the tin is quite attractive, and I plan on using it as a pencil case? Sometimes I worry that smoking is for men what potpourri, collectibles and spa days are for women. Any time I see fancy tobaccos named Eileen's Dream or Apricots & Cream I think I'm about to have a one-hour appointment with someone named Sondara who cuts my hair, listens to my life's problems, pats me on the back when I cry and then brings me a cup of artisanal herb tea with a sprig of dill in it.
On to the ascots. I can't get over how cute these things are, like baby cigars as puppies are baby dogs. Unwrapping the plastic wrapper yields a pint-size smoke which must be cut like a "real" cigar before it can be smoked. The smoking experience lasts about 20 minutes at my pace. These are full-flavor and full-powered cigars, just in smaller dose, with what looks like less full leaf and more trimmings used to stuff them. I hope to be able to dissect one someday and find out. The smoke is rich, and after a short bitterness, quickly becomes a buttery and creamy smoke with undertones of dark oils and a meaty surliness that appeals to the Jack London in all of us. As the ascot burns to a nub, vitamin N kicks up a degree and the greater density of both oils and sugars broadens the flavor. The first third of the mini-cigar tastes more like a strong cigarette, and the rest more like a pipe than a regular cigar.
As a smoking option, the ascot cannot be defeated by simple arguments. It is flavorful, yes, and has some strength of nicotine. There is less kit and gear than with pipes. It is faster than either a cigar or a full pipe bowl, and the bedraggled end can be cast down the nearest sewer grate when finished. But, you still need a tiny cigar-cutter or pocketknife and table on which to cut the end, and it still takes longer than a cigarette, so I can see why there are few cigarillo enthusiasts waxing lengthy about the superiority of this form. It is good for what it is, but what it is does not deliver enough of the advantages implicitly promised by its form.
One more caution I must offer is that our local liquor shack, Spec's, keeps these outside of its humidor. As a result, they are kind of dry, which leads to cracking of the wrapper and some loss of internal pressure. I am not sure why mini-cigars do not get the same treatment that full-size ones do, but it may have to do with their audience. The shorter the smoke, the less one is presumed to care about qualitative issues, I suppose. I can recommend these as cigarillos, as the Macanudo Robusto Maduro (or is it Maduro Robusto?) is the best of breed. But whether I can recommend cigarillos or not is another issue, and one not easily decided by the circumstances under which I enjoyed these.
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