Unco B's Stogie Diary

When it comes to enjoying a cigar, reviews are useless.

What?

I bet you thought I was going to wax poetic about sitting back and enjoying a cigar. But this is about you, not me.

I know that calling reviews useless sounds completely absurd coming from a reviewer, but think about it. Once you light a cigar, a review has nothing to do with whether you enjoy it or not. Sure, it might get you in the ballpark, but that’s really about it.

Reviews can show you how cigars differ and give you some idea of what might appeal to you. That’s useful when you’re deciding what to buy or smoke. But I can’t tell you what you’re supposed to taste, and I sure as hell can’t tell you whether you’re enjoying yourself.

I write about flavors because that’s what I taste. I write about what the flavors do because two cigars of the same type can taste similar and still be completely different experiences. But I’m describing my smoke. You don’t have to find the same things I did.

Sometimes you light a cigar and simply think, “Damn, this is good.” You may never sort out why. You don’t need to.

Last weekend, I met a friend at a lounge. After we greeted each other, he held up a cigar and said, “Man, I loved your review of the Macanudo Sumatra, so I bought one. I can’t taste all the things you do, but I sure like this cigar. And you’re right. Who would’ve thought Macanudo could do this? They’re usually so tasteless.”

I paused for a moment before replying, “Coming from the wine world, I’ve developed a tasting vocabulary. But that’s not important. I’m here to give you context. You have to smoke it and see if you like it. And I dig that you like it as much as I did. In fact, I’m gonna get one to smoke with you.”

That conversation was a symptom of something I’ve noticed in cigar culture: everyone is hyper-focused on flavor notes and the ability to detect them.

That’s the part that bothers me. My friend was clearly enjoying the cigar, yet he still felt the need to qualify it. “I can’t taste all the things you do” came before “I sure like this cigar,” as though his enjoyment needed an explanation.

Being able to call out coffee, cedar, or black pepper might have helped him describe why he liked it, but it wouldn’t have made him like it any more.

We’ve begun treating flavor notes like a list we’re supposed to complete. A reviewer names six flavors, so the person smoking the cigar goes looking for all six. If he finds three, he feels like he only got half the cigar.

That’s bullshit. He got the whole cigar.

If you read this blog regularly, you’ll remember what I said in “Where the Hell Is the Coffee?” The biggest difference between someone who can name what they’re tasting and someone who can’t is vocabulary developed through practice.

My wine background didn’t give me a better palate. It just gave me more practice putting flavors into words.

It’s as simple as that.

Unfortunately, cigar culture has somehow turned the ability to detect flavors into a badge of honor.

Somewhere along the way, “I like this cigar” stopped being enough. People began to feel they had to support that statement with evidence. Coffee. Cedar. Cocoa powder. Black pepper. The more they could name, the more credible their enjoyment seemed.

But enjoyment doesn’t need qualifications or credentials.

Let’s put that to the test. When was the last time you smoked with friends and the conversation revolved around flavor notes? Unless the session was devoted to studying a particular cigar, chances are you talked about anything but. And when someone mentioned the cigar, it was probably something like, “Damn! This kicks ass.”

Like it or not, enjoyment is binary. You like a cigar, or you don’t. There might be degrees of enjoyment, but you’ll lean to one side or the other. No amount of eloquence is going to change that.

I say it all the time. Cut. Light. Enjoy.

It’s not Cut. Light. Take a test.

My friend liked the Macanudo Sumatra. He didn’t need to prove it to me, and he sure as hell didn’t need my notes to validate it. The flavors I found gave him context before he bought it. Once he lit it, his own response took over.

So no, reviews aren’t useless. But they’re only useful up to the point you light the cigar.