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David Savona

The Ultimate Personal Humidor?

Posted: Jun 24, 2008 10:08am ET
I’m jealous. I recently visited what has to be the ultimate home humidor.

Recently I flew to Nashville, Tennessee, to meet with the principals of C.A.O. International Inc. Nashville is a great place, lush and green, full of trees, with a hip downtown powered by the city’s music business. But it’s not the typical place where you would find a cigar company.

C.A.O. is the only cigar company in Nashville, and it’s there because of a woman, Esen Ozgener, the wife of C.A.O. founder Cano (pronounced Johnno) Ozgener. Cano graduated from Columbia University as an engineering major, and he fell in love with New York. But he also fell in love with Esen. “When you follow a woman in life, many strange things happen to you,” Cano told me once for a story I did on C.A.O. “She wanted to raise her family in a quiet place.”

They found their quiet place in Nashville, Tennessee, and 40 years ago Cano founded C.A.O. The company is still headquartered in Nashville, and today it’s a major player in the cigar world. Cano has sold his interest in the company, and he is no longer part of the day-to-day operations at the company, but he’s still deeply in love with the cigar business, and with cigars themselves.

After spending a few hours with Cano’s son Tim, who is president of the company, and chairman Gary Hyams and senior VP of marketing Mike Conder, we met up at Cano’s lovely home for some pre-dinner wine and cheese. Cano opened some great old bottles of Bordeaux and then showed me his incredible cigar room. Check out the video.




I can’t imagine a cigar smoker who doesn’t want a room like that! More than 100,000 cigars, artfully displayed and perfectly humidified. (Cano channeled his engineering background with the huge humidification system, which is tastefully hidden behind a semi-concealed door.) The floor is tiled, and the fact that the room is at basement level helps keep it nice and cool.
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Caught in a Storm

Posted: Jun 17, 2008 11:19am ET
I zipped up the flap on my tent, put my left arm over my young son and covered him up as best I could. The orange tent glowed from the lightning bolts above and thunder cracked far too close outside. We were on an island. Our tent was the tallest object on the beach for about 50 yards, and the boat that brought us here was well offshore in high tide. The nearest home was two miles away. The storm came on hard, fast and took us by surprise.

Saturday started out well enough, with my buddy Mark and I taking our kids out on his boat to an island off the Connecticut shore. The water was calm as we set out for the short ride out of the harbor, and we got in close to the small island, anchored the boat and rafted the kids and the gear some 20 feet ashore in low tide. We set up our tents, put up the folding table and got to camping. The kids swam in the water, made sand castles and searched for clams. Mark and I each cracked a cold beer and lit up Coronado by La Flor Lanceros.

We had listened to the weather forecast on the local news before heading out. It called for isolated showers with a 20 percent chance of precipitation—no big deal. As we sat in our beach chairs, watching the kids play and enjoying the Coronados, we thought we might catch a break on the rain. The sky was mostly clear. Then as we began cooking dinner, a few rumbles growled in the distance. Around 8 p.m., we began getting the kids ready for bed, and that’s when the heavens opened up.

Storms in the northeast typically move in from the west this time of year, but the cell that found us snuck in from the north. It was big. Buckets of rain poured onto the tents, the wind kicked up, and the lightning was relentless.

My boy was a little spooked by the first big crack of thunder, but within two minutes he was snoring soundly. The kid’s a champ. He did a lot better than his dear old dad—I thought the tent was going to blow away, leaving us even more exposed. A few drops of water got in as the rain shield rose and buckled, but everything held up. Tip of the hat to the Coleman Co.—best $40 I’ve ever spent.
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I Love the Smell of Ligero in the Morning

Posted: Jun 13, 2008 10:13am ET
I usually start my day with a cup of black coffee. But I recently tried a much more potent pick me up—a trio of cigars made of straight ligero, which I smoked at 10 a.m. and chased with a bracing cup of espresso. Now that’s a hearty breakfast!

Most of you know that ligero is the name given to the strongest type of cigar tobacco, the leaves that grow highest on a plant. They are the last to ripen and they exhibit all the power that nicotiana tobacum can give. They’re the guts of a filler blend, the backbone of powerful cigars, like a hearty dose of pepper in a flavorful dish. But just as it’s unpleasant to eat straight pepper, it’s no picnic to smoke straight ligero. So what the heck was I doing?

I was doing what Alan Rubin, owner of Alec Bradley Cigars, does on a regular basis when he comes up with new tobacco blends. He has his cigar men make up little cigars made entirely of one type of tobacco. Then he smokes that component to take note of its flavor. Later, he combines them to come up with blends.

We were essentially deconstructing an Alec Bradley Tempus, the new hit cigar from Rubin. We were smoking most of the components that go into the cigar, one of which recently scored 94 points in Cigar Insider.

Rubin calls these little things puritos, and the first was made entirely of ligero from a small Nicaraguan farm called Membraño. We torched them up, and the smoke dialed in on the center of the tongue, with a very heavy mineral flavor, especially at the start, and lots of oily wood notes. It was very strong. After that, we fired up a purito made of ligero from Jalapa, a part of Nicaragua known for more elegant tobacco. True to type, this ligero was milder than the first, although it still had considerable power. This was nutty, kind of sweet, with a coffee bean flavor, and it hit in the back of the tongue. The third, ligero from Trojes in Honduras, near the Nicaraguan border, started with a wet leather flavor, with roasted nuts and charcoal. This one had a real sneaky strength — after a while, I started to feel it in my belly.
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Reliving My Youth

Posted: Jun 3, 2008 10:48am ET
My right knee is throbbing, my shins are swollen and both feet are sore. Why? I joined a few friends on Sunday and played soccer for a couple of hours. It’s been about a year since I’d played, and much, much longer since I played regularly. Let’s just say it’s a little harder now than when I was in my mid 20s playing a few times a week.

I blame it on field conditions. In my youth, I distinctly remember that all soccer fields were mowed very, very short. I was able to run for hours without getting tired, could cut on a dime (OK, maybe a quarter) and I never experienced any type of pain whatsoever, except for those times when you had to make a defensive wall and would inevitably absorb a kick in some place where you didn’t want to be kicked. But the field that I played on must have certainly had long, long grass, because I couldn’t move very fast, and I was nearly instantly exhausted from the merest amount of play.

Yeah. Must have been the long grass.

The afternoon of soccer in what seemed like oppressive heat was a big reminder that I’m getting older. I’m not as good at sports as I was as a younger man. I am, however, considerably better at post sport celebration.

After the game, my buddies and I crawled off to Mark’s house for much needed refreshment. “You really polished off that beer quickly,” Mark marveled. “I think I was dehydrated,” I said. Beer is mostly water, right?

Not long after the beer, it was time for a cigar. I chose a Montecristo Petit Edmundo, which never seems to disappoint. The robusto-sized smoke was rich, loaded with coffee bean notes and fairly full bodied—just what the doctor ordered. (I think Olympic soccer players recover from stressful games using the same beer-cigar method that I employed, but I could be mistaken.)

So I’m resigned to the fact that I’m older, slower and far less able to run around without causing my body considerable pain. But at least I’m now proficient in how to relax.
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A "New" Smoke From Pepin

Posted: May 20, 2008 12:42pm ET
So I thought I knew all of Jose “Pepin” Garcia’s smokes. I was wrong. I had lunch the other day with John Gonzales, national sales manager for El Rey de Los Habanos, Pepin’s company in Miami. John and I were talking about cigars when he mentioned Vegas Cubanas, a brand I’d never heard of. When I professed my ignorance, John handed me a few robusto-sized smoked called Invictos.

John told me that Vegas Cubanas is one of the milder brands made by Pepin. He gave me a little document listing Pepin’s house brands. Pepin makes quite a few smokes. Some, like Tatuaje, are for other companies. The brands his company owns include various versions of the Don Pepin line, but also include El Rey de Los Habanos (the mildest cigar he makes) and Vegas Cubanas, which is described as being “mild to medium bodied.”

The cigar is made in Miami, on Calle Ocho. Like the bulk of what Pepin makes, it’s made solely from Nicaraguan tobacco. It looked pretty tasty, so I took the cigars back to the office. Yesterday, I fired a couple of them up. Here’s me puffing away in this video.




No shocker here—it’s a very good cigar. It’s nicely made (I don’t think I’ve ever smoked a poorly made smoke that’s come from one of Pepin’s factories), it’s woody, a tad earthy and a bit dry in character. It’s not very sweet, but it’s tasty, with a touch of coffee bean flavor.

Pepin makes some pretty gutsy smokes, and while this isn’t the strongest of his line I wouldn’t call it mild to medium bodied. I think it’s more medium-bodied.

I called Janny Garcia, Pepin’s daughter, for some more info on the cigar. She told me Vegas Cubanas is one of Pepin’s original brands. “We’ve made it since the beginning,” she said, making it four years old.

Here’s the best part—the brand is also a steal—about $5.30 a cigar for the robusto-sized Invictos, which is five inches long by 50 ring gauge. Not bad.
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Smoke For Derby Day

Posted: May 12, 2008 4:16pm ET
There’s just something special about firing up a great cigar (or two) on Derby Day. This year, my wife and I celebrated in style with a great group at the home of our friends Tammy and Jay Harris, who treat the annual Run for the Roses as if it were a national holiday.

Tammy and Jay created the ideal setup for a springtime party—a band playing Dixie music, a generous spread of fried chicken with all the sides, including Tammy’s homemade (and ridiculously addictive) biscuits with salty Southern ham, plus a bartender with a heavy hand and a deft touch at making Mint Juleps.

We were in fine spirits, arriving at the appointed hour dressed in our Derby attire. Jay was wearing a festive tie, my wife, Manuela, and virtually all the women wore hats worthy of any Southern belle, and I even dusted off the old Panama hat, which usually sits in my closet. My buddy Russ, who broke out the seersucker for the event, handed me a Cohiba Siglo I early into the party.

The little Cohiba is one of my all-time favorite small cigars. Every time I smoke one I think back to my first, which I smoked in Pinar del Río back in 1996. This one was as great as that first--slightly spicy, just rich enough, and full of great flavor belying its tiny size. I've always enjoyed them.

Cigars were welcome at the party, and about half the men in attendance chose to light up at some point. I, naturally, chose to light up a few times, following the Siglo with a Fuente Fuente OpusX PerfecXion No. 2. This is our current No. 2 cigar of the year, and it performed admirably. It was big, bold and leathery, with the right amount of sweetness needed to balance out the hefty power of the Opus. I was two-for-two with the cigars on Derby Day.

It was a great party, and went on long after the race had concluded. With the combination of good friends, great food, free-flowing cigars and fine spirits, it was impossible not to have a good time.
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Better With Age

Posted: Apr 30, 2008 4:42pm ET
James Suckling was in town this week, so Monday night we headed out to an early dinner in midtown. We ate at Benoit, a new brasserie from Alain Ducasse that just opened. (It was so new, in fact, that they didn’t have a liquor license, something we didn’t know until after we sat down. A quick trip to a local liquor store remedied that. James will be blogging about that experience soon at winespectator.com.)

Naturally we wanted a smoke after dinner, so we walked the few blocks over to the Grand Havana Room after finishing our meals. We sat down in one of the lounge's comfy chairs, I ordered an Abelour Abundah single-malt Scotch and reached into my briefcase.

When I smoke with Sucking, he usually provides the cigars, but this time we smoked some of mine. I had Padrón 1964 Anniversary Series Imperials, last year’s No. 3 cigar of the year, and they had a full year of age on them.

I’m a big believer in aging cigars, and so is Suckling. We rate aged cigars in every issue of Cigar Aficionado, in our Connoisseur’s Corner. Most of the cigars that make it to that page are 90 pointers or above, sometimes way above.

Now Padróns are great right out of the box, but like most great cigars, they get even better with age. These were amazing—rich, bold, elegant and harmonious smokes that had just a little more finesse than they did in early 2007, when I first got them. I’m sure in a few years they will be better still.

Aging cigars takes patience and self-discipline. How many times have you set aside cigars, hoping to let them rest, but found yourself taking a few here or there. Next thing you know, the box is empty!

Not everyone agrees that cigars get better with age, including the man who made the cigar that we smoked, Jorge Padrón.

What do you think? Do cigars get better with age? And do you have the patience to age your smokes?
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Loving Your Work

Posted: Apr 22, 2008 10:20am ET
I had lunch the other day with Litto Gomez, who makes La Flor Dominicana cigars. We ate at Otto, part of the Mario Batali/Joe Bastianich Italian food empire. Litto is as slim as a spear, but you’d never know it if you watched him tuck into a table set with great Italian food. The guy can eat about as much as I can, and that tells you something.

It was a great lunch, with delicious, casual food, some good wine and easy conversation. Between bites of house-made salumi and a plate of spaghetti carbonara that Litto dubbed better than any he’d had in Italy, we got to talking about business.

Like half of New York, I commute to work on a train every day. Litto is also a commuter, but his is a longer, tougher ride—most Mondays he leaves Florida for the Miami International Airport and hops onto a plane to Santiago, Dominican Republic. On Fridays he heads home. It’s a two-hour flight.

Even if you love to fly, that routine can get to be a grind. But it doesn’t bother Litto, because he simply loves what he does. He took a vacation recently, and one night he woke up in the middle of the morning, grabbed the laptop computer and began typing, waking his wife. “I had too many ideas in my head,” he said.

This is a guy who loves making cigars. He’s been doing it since 1994. When he started making smokes (he was previously a jeweler), he was dizzy, unsure of what to do, a newcomer in a strange new world. Today he’s a master of his craft, the man behind some of the world’s best cigars.

I asked him how long it took for him to fall in love with the cigar business. “Two months,” he said with an easy smile. “Now, I’m raring to go on Monday morning.”

Litto isn’t alone. Most of the guys I know in this business bleed cigars, and love everything about the process of making them. Remember—it hasn’t always been such a lucrative career. Many of the men I write about who make cigars got into this business when cigar sales were slumping, not growing, as they are now. Many of them chose this career path when the future for cigars looked very, very uncertain.
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A Strong Smoke From Alec Bradley

Posted: Apr 16, 2008 10:30am ET
It’s Night to Remember week here in New York, which means just about the entire cigar industry is coming to town. It's been a busy week.

I started the week off right with Alan Rubin, owner of Alec Bradley cigars. He came by the office Monday morning to give me a sample of his newest brand, Alec Bradley Tempus, which goes on sale next week. He handed me a dark lancero, which I quickly clipped and lit.

Alan told me he built the cigar around the outer leaf, which is grown in Honduras near the border of Nicaragua. “It all started because of the wrapper,” he said. The wrapper is nice and dark, with a dryish texture to it, not seeping with oils but promising big flavor. You can’t always judge a cigar by its wrapper, but this one delivered as promised—from the first puff, it was gutsy and strong. Here’s Alan in my office talking about the brand.



The cigar had a red meat flavor, lots of minerals, roasted nuts, and good old-fashioned strength. I lit it up around noon, before lunch. I’d recommend waiting until after a meal to fully enjoy it.

The cigar is from the small Raisas Cubanas in Danlí, Honduras, and it’s excellent. Rubin originally wanted this blend to be his Maxx cigar a couple of years ago, but at the time he was concerned with getting a consistent product from that factory. He’s confident it can be done now.

I’m a big fan of lanceros, and more and more cigarmakers are making them. This is Alec Bradley’s first. Alan originally wanted to make it the classic lancero ring gauge of 38, but at that thickness the cigar was too powerful. “The wrapper has a lot to it,” he said. “We needed to put one more leaf [of filler into the blend.] We were concerned with being over the top strong.”

Adding that one more leaf meant no more 38 ring gauge. The end results is a 7 1/2 inch long, 41 ring gauge lancero that is strong, but has a good amount of balance to it. That’s just one of the little quirks about making handmade cigars.
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The Dangers of Blogging?

Posted: Apr 11, 2008 10:40am ET
So I walk to the driveway and pick up my newspaper the other day, and there it is right on page one—blogging kills. Apparently there have been a couple of deaths by blogging, where stressed out writers have succumbed to the pressures of the job and died.

Who knew our jobs were so dangerous to merit a page one story in The New York Times? Sure, I’ve bit my nails down to the quick on a Cubana Airlines flight, and those close encounters with tarantulas in Honduras and erupting volcanoes in Ecuador have given me a bit of agita, but I never knew that the roughest part of my work was what I’m doing now, sitting in front of a Mac and typing away about my thoughts.

Maybe it isn’t blogging per se, but the type of blogging that poses the risk. I’d like to think that the Cigar Aficionado blogger is a more relaxed blogger than your typical web log journalist. Ours is a lifestyle magazine, so our blogs reflect that. We typically write about the best part of our days, that time when we sit back with a great smoke and savor it in all its glory.

So just in case you were worried about all of us after reading that story, rest assured. We’re gonna be OK.
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