Montecristo LE Sublimes 2008 - Havana Club Barrel Proof Rum (Flor de Cana 7-Year-Old Rum).

A gutful of deadlines, impending border closures, Covid jabs, no new digs on the horizon unless I win gold lotto pronto, missing Rob's annual lunch. Needed a decent cigar and I had collected some of Rob's famous seconds for Kenfessions, so late Saturday arvo was allocated.

Rolled out the outdoor couch and gear, got a terrific book and some rums and picked an old fave from the bundle. Current digs are terrific - how many places can you look out the window and see whales leaping? This is one of a set of town houses on the northern side of the creek at HP (the old man and his mates built them several decades ago and most are still in the same family hands from back then) and during the week, and many weekends, hardly a soul to be seen. This weekend, the family next door (fantastic people - I used to work with, well actually for, the patriarch back in the legal days and always one of the nicest guys you could meet) with the grandkids, who have healthy lungs! The other side, the sons of their patriarch have about 20 of their mates down for a weekend session, but they are all good kids - last seen heading off to the beach with a slab of beer each and a full sound system including turntable, generators and bells and whistles, but they might get a surprise when they get back. The local magpies raided their yet-to-be cleaned table and when there was the sound of umpteen glasses smashing, half a dozen magpies took off for the horizon. Could be interesting about midnight.

The cigar? The wonderful Montecristo LE Sublimes from 2008. Always loved them. This was a second. Apparently. To me, it was a first with honours. Not too sure why it was a second but not complaining, and we have seen plenty of book/cover cigars go both ways (am I allowed to say that, these days?).

I suspect I have a soft spot for them as Rob and I were in Cuba when they were released and I remember the event well. We managed to snaggle a late invitation and so rushed to get into our suits (yes, we do Havana dignified). Grabbed the first taxi we could and headed off to the Nacional for the big unveiling. James Suckling was on the panel. There was going to be a big crowd and it was to be combined with a cigar/champers tasting. Now, I reckon I can tell you producer and vintage of most of the champers I've drunk over the years but this one was new to me and embarrassingly, I cannot even remember the name - never came across it again. It was imported by the Hungarian or Polish or Slovakian or some place nearby ambassador to Cuba, as a side business apparently, and they only released them as old vintages. Never come across them since, but the champagnes, when we finally got to them, were seriously good. When we got to them would be the key.

We paid the cabbie and raced into the Nacional. No one knew where it was being held. No surprise. We ran around checking every conference room, dining hall, nook and cranny. Then over the to concert area. Nothing. Finally, Rob found a maid and asked her as a last resort. Turns out her boyfriend was working on it at the Melia, from memory. Wherever it was, it was not the Nacional. Enough time has passed that the blame draped over Rob has dissipated to a small degree. Really, how difficult is it to get the hotel right?

So, back to the taxi rank and jumped into the first we could grab. I have not mentioned that we were in the middle of a huge storm and so managed to get the dignified suits somewhat damp and the Malecon was closed as waves were smashing over it like it was hurricane season.

So we had to go the back way. Our taxi driver had an interesting 'amendment' for his vehicle. As soon as he put it in reverse, it played the Macarena at 747 decibel level. Which was hysterical. But first, we had to sort a fee with the driver and he saw us as his annual salary in one trip.

$12, he insisted.

No way, I said. $4. Which was still well over the odds for the trip. Rob is in the back yelling at me to pay whatever he wanted but there are principles.

No, he insisted, $10.

$5, I responded.

No, he insisted, $10.

No, I said, $8.

Absolutely not, he insisted, $6.

There was a moment of silence while I tried to digest this. Yes. $6 it is.

Good, he said. And then he stopped to think. Whatever the word for 'Bugger' is in Cuban, I suspect we heard it several times. But a deal's a deal. So, with the Macarena at full tilt, we back out and off we go. I swear he kept going into places where he'd have to reverse so he could listen to his new toy.

We get there and rush in. They'd just kicked off. If I recall, there was the Cuaba Pyramides, which is the only Cuaba I've ever really liked, and a short fat Partagas? I think only three LE’s in 08?

I'm scribbling endless notes on both the champers and cigars. A thoroughly entertaining event with James in good form. The last cigar was the Sublimes, my pick. For me, these have been brilliantly constructed. Even today, I had an ash well over the third its length. On this occasion, it went well over half the length of the cigar. Which caught the eye of the photographer in attendance. Apparently, she does photos for some Spanish magazine and over she came. She took a couple of me with the cigar (no idea whatever happened to them - hopefully, she has Rob's downloading skills and they were deleted). And then she went nuts. She took at least a hundred shots and of course, being a complete idiot, there was no way I was not going to play this up. All my best 007 poses. I had a ball and she was laughing. Meanwhile Rob is next to me whinging loudly about why was he not being photographed (who takes pictures of M if he is standing next to Bond?). She finished up and left, with Rob as grumpy as you could imagine.

Unfortunately, pride goeth...

Sure enough, the ash, as I mentioned over half the length of the cigar, fell off, right onto my pages of notes and they burst into flames. I am whacking away trying to put them out. Rob is now in hysterics trying to get the photographer back (the only mercy was that she had left). I spill champagne over everything trying to extinguish the fire. Staff come running from everywhere. 200 people have to wait until order is restored.

No one has ever gone from James Bond to Woody Allen faster. I still can't listen to the Macarena without cringing, although that might be more about the song than the cigar.

Today, this was the first one I have had for ages. And what a cracking cigar it was. Opened nicely and soon blossomed. Hints of dry hay and herbs but that soon morphed into chocolate and caramel (yes, caramel, though the caramel did dissipate quite quickly, while the chocolate became more pronounced). This was a lovely cool smoke. Under medium, fully balanced, nicely mature but be in no hurry. Great construction. No need to even think about a relight and the burn was as even as could be. The second half was toast and chocolate. This has the DNA of both Montecristo and the LE series. And it just got better. Towards the end, some spices and even pepper. A cracker! 96.

And with this cigar, a top Cuban rum, the Havana Club Barrel Proof (from the litre bottle), which I must have brought home from one of the trips. I believe that it is now known as Havana Club Seleccion de Maestros, so it has been around for a bit. Rich, balanced, some stonefruit and sweetness, though not too much. A hint of vanillin oak. And it worked a treat with the Sublimes.

As a back up, I had been soaking some Flor de Cana 7-Year-Old in crushed up limes for a couple of days. Another winner. Almost good enough to get one through the Macarena.

KBG