Cigar Asylum Cigar Forum - Tamboril V. Cremosa

Back in 2005 at Club Stogie (the precurser to Cigar Asylum), Da Klugs ran a contest where the participants smoked these two cigars to determine which was worse. In the interest of (tongue in cheekedly) educating those new to cigars, I offer my 2005 reviews here for your perusal. These were good for 2nd place in Dave's contest.

Quote:

Tamboril

I decide to smoke the Tamboril in the parking garage near where I work. Pulling the cigar from its cellophane jail, I swear I have seen this cigar before. Finally, it comes to me…it is just the same as the Cuban Cohibas I bought from the guy walking the beach in Cancun last summer. A squeeze reveals a spongy construction, much like a contraceptive sponge prior to insertion.

Pre-light draw

The pre-light draw is a taste to remember…its what I imagine sucking powdered goat feces through a straw made of petrified moose $hit might taste like. I contemplate quitting the contest and sending Dave back his extra smokes, but decide that if I can have a root canal with no anesthesia, I can smoke this cigar.

The smoke

As I toast the end, the smell of the Killing Fields of Cambodia is what I perceive. All the pain and torture endured there seems only slightly worse than the experience I am beginning. The first draw fills my mouth with smoke that would be better suited for a fire at a tire factory, but I press on, knowing that I must help Dave find some answers to his dilemma. My head begins to pound like a headboard in a Ginger Lynn movie, but I puff again, trying to keep the smoke in and the bile down. The cigar is burning sideways and fast, and finally I can take no more. I see a homeless man walking by in his filthy clothes, and I ask him to spit in my mouth to take away the taste of the Tamboril. He obliges and the stale taste of Mad Dog 20/20 and Virginia Slims is a welcome change. I offer him the remainder of the cigar as a reward for his kind gesture, and he slugs me square in the mouth. The mixture of my own blood and the Mogan David remain with me on my journey home for the second part of my adventure.

Cremosa

I take the Cremosa out of its wrapper, and am immediately overwhelmed by the scent of Miss Locascio’s house. Miss L was the woman on our block with 72 cats, 3 ferrets and a nasty flatulence problem. The cigar feels harder than the mattress at the Motel 6 and has the same color as the middle of horrorview’s prescription thong.

Pre-light draw

The pre-light draw feels looser than an Irish hooker on St Patrick’s Day. I long for the taste of spit and blood again as I taste the rancid pork washed down with spoiled milk flavor that the Cremosa offers.I shudder as I reach into my pocket for my lighter. As I contemplate my next move, Chevy Chase appears on my shoulder…”See the cigar, hog….be the cigar”….I flick my bic.

The smoke

The smell of the cigar is a familiar one….the smoke smells like the water that leaks out of a dumpster behind a Mexican restaurant on a 95 degree day. My head swims with irrational thoughts….”should I slit my wrists?”….”should I eat a bullet?”…..”should I watch 'American Idol'?”. Finally, sanity creeps back in, and I rush to the sink. No time for the Drew Estates Dave included as a palate cleanser, I reach for the Liquid Plumber and greedily chug from the bottle. The second degree burns scorching my tongue bring welcome relief from the taste of the Craposa. In the ambulance, the paramedic asks ”what is that rancid pork and spoiled milk smell on your breath”, even as he stabilizes my vital signs. I will live, he tells me, and by the way, he found my cigar and saved it for me. I wonder if they will have any sharp items in my hospital room?

So the loser… or the winner…of the worst of the worst…Cremosa. Thanks a lot Dave…I will send you the hospital bills.