Have a Cigar: Macanudo Vintage Maduro 1997 Toro

Name: Macanudo Vintage Maduro 1997 Toro

Country: Dominican Republic

Shape: Parejo

Size: Toro (6 inches x 54)

Strength: Medium

I understand that this post’s image may misrepresent the cigar. But I had already had quite a lot of beers before I remembered that I needed to take a picture of it. This is not the first time. It happens with me sometimes. I enjoy the moment so much that I forget to take pictures.

The important thing is that the cigar burned wonderfully, and I got maximum pleasure out of it. I paired it with stout, so it was black versus black.

There was a blurry moon in the sky. Rock music came out of pub’s speakers. I was with my buddies. There was nothing to complain about.

Chris Khatsch smoking a Liga Privada T52 at the Malt Gallery in Naccache

Have a Cigar: Liga Privada T52 Toro

Name: Liga Privada T52 Toro

Country: Nicaragua

Shape: Parejo

Size: Toro (6 inches x 52)

Strength: Full

The Liga Privada T52 Toro came with notes of espresso, red kidney beans, leather, and molasses. I paired the first third with Laphroaig 10, the second and final third with Wild Turkey Rye.

The cigar burned evenly and lasted for an hour and a half. It was well-constructed and in perfect condition. It produced a generous amount of thick, creamy smoke, and it had a perfect draw.

Although, if I really had to choose, I’d rather smoke the UF-13, I’d still rate the T52 Toro as an excellent cigar. After all, I smoked it until my fingers burned.

July 22, 2023: Tomorrow, I’ll be in Athens

Cats chilling
in the shade of an avocado tree.
Birds chirping.

A hue of yellow everywhere the sun touches.
A breeze like the hot air that comes out of generators.

I’m in my study
trying to write on a Saturday that should have been
a Sunday.

Hungover.

Last night – what was I doing last night?
It was my friend’s birthday, and I was partying like
I was still in my twenties.

The beers.
The shots.

Heavy Metal songs.  

My neck is sore from all the headbanging.

The smell of smoke and debauchery lingers on
last night’s pair of jeans.

I message my friend to make sure he reached home safely last night,
to make sure he’s still alive.
He’s good. “It was fun.”

I’m on painkillers now, having coffee,
thinking of my upcoming trip and the things I need to do
before heading to the airport tomorrow.

I still need to pack.

Tomorrow, I’ll be in Athens.
Can’t wait.
I need a break from Beirut.