Wrapper: U.S. Connecticut
Size: 7.5 x 52 Churchill
The prelight smells of graham cracker and butter. There is a little grassiness to it as well.
I snip the cap and light up.
I taste notes of oak and espresso. These cigars boast superb construction and very firm… and no soft spots. Very few veins.
The burn is a bit erratic. I like the Churchill (7-1/2 x 52). It’s a log. The flavors evolve in a relaxed manner. The flavors come slowly. The Classic is the creamiest of all the Ashton blends. It starts off that way and continues through the entire smoke. It ebbs and flows, but it is always there.
And I like the graham cracker sweetness. A little bit of spice shows up in the first inch to give it some zing.
The ash falls off 1″ into it. For some reason, the Classic doesn’t have a tough ash. 1″ is about the most you’re going to get unless you stand it up vertically as a challenge. The spiciness fades into more creaminess and some nuttiness, with some hints of nutmeg and cinnamon.
The gentle smooth flavors of a cappuccino and a subtle hint of vanilla rise to the occasion. I pick up cedar and toasted almond as well but the creamy, light coffee and cream flavors remained dominant throughout.
Now, halfway through, I taste spicy cinnamon with cloves. The flavors are very intense…. earth, leather, cinnamon, spice, pepper, cocoa, coffee, mocha and cream in various combinations as the stick burns down. The stick becomes a strong medium body while the cigar is full flavored.
Just like every Ashton I’ve ever smoked, this cigar was immaculate, from the exquisite Connecticut wrapper to the smooth, creamy heart.
The complexity maintains as it burns down. But that’s OK, because for a medium body cigar, this is a carnival of flavors and sensations.
….the Ashton Classic is getting small now. It’s been almost 2 hours since I lit up.
The Ashton Classics boast solid construction and remarkable flavor.
And now for something completely different:
During the violinist’s long, dragged out, solo performance, we ran back stage and imbibed in herbal refreshment. The solo was in the middle of the band’s signature tune, “Vivaldi,” That was the violinist’s favorite composer. He played the same thing every night. He exited out of the mish mosh of a solo the same way each night and then we would run back onstage and plug in.
What I didn’t know was that I had knocked my tuning pegs on my bass out of tune when I put it down. When we returned, we played like the devil himself… furiously playing a circle of fifths, and none of my notes were right.And playing it in triple time.
I had knocked the bass so out of tune, I wasn’t even in the same key anymore. The guitarist, and co-leader, came over to me and started yelling out the chords….completely humiliating me in front of thousands of people. I yelled back, “I am playing those notes,” as I pointed to my fret board. I tried re-tuning while playing, but made it worse. When we finished, we ran off stage and waited for the obligatory….”More, more, more,” and the stomping of feet and clapping of hands.
The violinist let loose the dogs of hell on me. I tried to explain, but he would have none of that.
We went back on stage for our encore and I quickly used my electronic tuner to fix things.
On the road that day, we had stopped for lunch and I had bought a yo-yo. Before we started every encore, the chick singer stood at the mike and blabbered something incoherent to the audience and they ate it up. She was a goddess to them. I stood next to her playing with the yo-yo. I thought it was funny. No one laughed.
To get even with me, the violinist yelled out, “Aaa 1, aaa 2, aaaa 3 and the song began with me 20 feet from my amp and not plugged in. This song, in particular, was bottom heavy and there was no bottom while I fumbled trying to get the yo yo string off of my middle finger. It was a failure. I plugged back in and joined the band. The violinist was smiling and giving me the stink eye the whole time.
I had my first solo coming up and the yo yo dangled from my right hand. It started to get caught up in the strings. I yelled for a roadie to help. One raced out to me and started to unscrew my bass. ??? I yelled at him to stop but he couln’t hear me, so I stopped playing and pounded on his huge back which was bent over in front of me. He looked up in complete confusion as I yelled at him to cut the yo-yo string. He tore it with his hands and rushed off stage.
I stayed behind with the road crew that night and let the band go on its merry way to the next gig for the next night. I was so pissed off I couldn’t breathe. I ended up living the life of a roadie for one night. Leave the auditorium at 3am and arrive at the next gig at 3pm…getting almost no sleep.
I went to the hotel and checked in. I collapsed and then the violinist stormed through the door to give me what for. I ignored him. We never got along after that and it was the beginning of the end.