It seems I haven't been able to keep my mouth shut and I've agreed to follow in the line of degradation of self-respect for the humor of others that @8ball has led me upon. So I begin tonight with a series of reviews I am titling, “A Gurkha is Trying to Assassinate Me.” I begin tonight with an aged(seriously, hehe) Gurkha Factum Presidente “gifted” to me by @Cricken . In the next few weeks I will review several of these beasts. I couldn't possibly consider using a traditional method of review for these assassins so I decided upon a new method. I will rate these Gurkhas using their weapon of choice, a kukuri. The more horrible and soul killing these cigars are the higher (out of 4) kukuri's they will get. On the other hand, if they turn out to be pleasant or even good I will rate them based on Nerf Swords, up to 4 of them. So, without [much] further hesitation, let's get started.
Upon unwrapping the cellophane I immediately get a glorious surge of cedar. I immediately think that maybe this isn't going to be as bad as I thought. Alas, no. In my excitement I failed to notice the cedar band fitted around the lower half of the cigar. This Nepalese gentleman that I will soon face off likes his cologne. Yes, I did refer to this soldier as a gentleman. If you aren't aware Factum is Latin for “Accomplishment.” My understanding here is that this is an old and accomplished constable. They've send an old warrior to take me out!
It seems this gladiator is going to make his attempt to kill me in the nude. After removing its cedar suruwā I understand why this constable was reluctant to undress. This Gurkha has seen combat. It seems this red, blood stained warrior fought his own maker tooth and nail. No really, I think the maker didn't bother trimming their nails that day. The Gurkha contingent obviously does not think highly of me. For the first attempt at assassination they've send a wounded warrior. Not including the flesh wound on the soldier's left leg, this Gurkha is exceptionally firm and has the vascularity that only a lean, rugged warrior could have after traveling hundreds of miles on rugged ground, UPS ground, that is.
Enough stalling, on to combat. I lead the first attack with my generic double blade cutter. I've mostly scalped him in one swipe. In my defense I respected his Gurkha traditions enough to allow his scalping to be done at a cant, that way he's never forced to wear a straight hat. In that one attack he's dulled my blade and I've set my weapon down. I fear the only weapon I have left is my torch, after that, I stand only to defend myself. Before lighting I take a draw, despite removal of most of the cap, the draw is tight. I hope this improves once I set the injured constable alight. I can already tell that this weary soldier is going to go down fighting. On the dry draw I'm being inundated with salt and spice.
It occurs to me that I've likely angered this Gurkha. The angle that I cut his cap isn't at the same slant as he is wearing his rank. Apparently the maker of this Gurkha didn't feel the need to arrive for battle inspection ready, either that or assumed, like all Gurkhas, they like wearing things crooked. Regardless, the fight is on. He took my attack with the torch rather well. I've set his feet on fire, and he's smoking. Now it's up to him if he's to do me in.
When I say he's smoking, I really mean it. This guy is smoking! The bad side of all this smoke, it keeps rushing to my face when I try to rest the cigar in my mouth, the good side, I haven't felt any beetles, mosquitos or their ilk land on me in the past few minutes. That said, I lit his Gurkha up at 10:18pm. I let the soldier get into his rhythm and I take a long, slow draw. There isn't what I would call a significant flavor, or striking taste. The heavy spice I expected isn't here, not even on the retrohale. It's a surprisingly gentle retrohale. Oddly enough, after expelling the smoke from my mouth there's an 'off' mouth-feel; I won't say it's good or bad, but I'm definitely tasting cedar.
Not 10 minutes in and this weary traveler is already burning unevenly. Maybe it has something to do with it's wounded leg. Either way, I think it's using smoke signals to tell it's compatriots my weaknesses. The Gurkha regiment may succeed though intelligence in it's individual failures. Either that or this constable is going to take me out through sheer smoke.
Not even 20 minutes in and this Factum's wound is causing it distress. The wound has cracked apart and splitting upwards for a good inch. He's hurt! Of course, he's blinding me with his thick white smokescreen. At the 20 minute mark this wounded, battle hardened warrior needs some more touching up.
Okay, while I'm being choked out by the smoke I'll provide a little insight about the Gurkha Factum Presidente. From cheaphumidors.com, “The Gurkha Factum is certainly an accomplishment with its Aged Cameroon wrapper and a Dominican filler and binder; it is a tasty medium-bodied cigar. The Gurkha Factum is deliciously smooth, so you’ll want to take your time with it and savor each delicious flavor.”
Okay, so it's a Cameroon wrapper, that certainly explains it's battle hardened look and ease to injure, but strangely I didn't peg this for a Cameroon, maybe it was the lack of tooth, who knows, but I can say that with this size RG I don't think the age of the wrapper matters much. Also, knowing that this is supposed to be a Dominican filler and binder, I would have been expected to be on the receiving end of an onslaught of pepper and spice. Even from one considered to be mind I should be tasting creaminess with a lingering of tartness, but instead I'm left with only a slightly sour, mildly acidic aftertaste. The retrohale is remarkably bland and instead of mellow creaminess that I would expect from a cigar that claims to be medium-bodied, I'm getting more cottage cheese.
Okay, I'm past 30 minutes and I've entered the second third of the cigar. I'm having to touch this stick up, again. Not mild touch-up's either, I'm really having to correct this fighter. The retrohale is finally starting to deliver some spice, and it seems that I've managed to dig through the curdles and find a bit of the cream that Gurkha must have intended to have in there. It's starting to smooth out a bit, this Nepalese warrior must have been tired entering the arena and it seems he's finding his second wind. Granted, I'm still not experiencing much more flavor than pepper and cedar, but hey, the constable seems to be learning how to attack with a pepper grinder.
40 minutes in, for once I haven't had to correct the burn line. This aged soldier seems to be holding his ground better if I allow him at least 90 seconds between attacks and give him a nice purge every few minutes. The mouth-feel has definitely improved. It's gone from cottage cheese to a mildly spicy creaminess. Unfortunately that's where it ends, just when you want to start focusing on the flavors and tastes, just when the smoke begins to make it's final escape from your mouth, that's when it arrives. Sour. An unpleasant sour taste. Not like the sharp, surprising sour a lemon provides but the kind of sour found on food that has gone a few days past its expiration. It's unpleasant and not enjoyable.
At the 50 minute mark I'm more than halfway through the second third. I've had to correct the burn, again. Up until now I have focused on the sour aftertaste consistently being left behind. It's ever present and almost overwhelming, but I wouldn't be doing this cigar justice if I didn't at least admit it was trying to do more. There is a lot of wood in the background. The only problem is, that's it. This is a 7.5” long cigar with a 52 RG' where is the change? Where is the complexity a cigar of this size should have? So far this Gurkha has been generally mild mannered in the arena with a slightly developing ability to use a pepper grinder and it seems he found an old crate to burn and chuck at me periodically. I'm thinking the constable hasn't bothered to bathe his entire journey and that may explain the unsettling sourness of the whole experience, but who knows, maybe he's just not too good at wiping.
One hour in, the second chunk of dark grey ash fell off only a few minutes ago. It held on for almost 2 inches. It seems the burn is no longer requiring touching up, I believe the wound on this constable's leg may have hindered him from burning evenly, but considering he balances before me like the Black Knight, missing both his legs, the battle isn't over. He's still got some fight in him and he's claiming the loss of his legs to be merely a flesh wound. It seems a long rest between draws is just the ticket as I'm wrapping up the second third and beginning to enter the final third.
The acrid aftertaste that I described before seems to be dissipating, not completely but somewhat. The old warriors second wind is fading and it looks like his ability to kill me has been reduced. This accomplished soldier is making a last attempt to stand in solidarity. He may actually be trying to stand proud. Unfortunately, it's too little and too late. The size and length of this cigar should have provided me with either creaminess or spice. It should have started the battle strong and then mellowed out waiting for an opportunity to strike with pepper and spice. Maybe he could have used different tactics and started gentle, watching me for my weaknesses and making me to believe he was weak and smooth, then at the last minute striking with bursts of pepper and woodiness that would leave me dazed. Instead, he's been an old dog that has been taught no new tricks.
72 minutes in I remove the soldiers blood red headress and notice more wounds in his nut brown Cameroon skin. He's shouting “It's merely a flesh wound,” and he may be right, but I'm tiring of his persistence. That's all he's been, persistent. Persistently unsurprising and consistently bland. There is medium-bodied and then there is this. Sure, by definition this aged combatant has met the standards of 'medium-bodied' but just because he met the requirement doesn't mean he earned the medals. This old constable never deserved promotion; not because he was a horrible soldier but because he was never a good one.
At 80 minutes I've began on the final third and I'm only continuing to partake for the sake of this tortuous review. I feel like I've spent the past hour licking an old ashtray found on the back shelf of the kind of antique store ran by a hoarder and not a businessman. The ashtray wasn't saved for it's beauty but simply because the owner couldn't, through his own inability, throw it away. The ashtray is an old hardwood, intended for a life of cigars but seemingly used its entire life to snuff out the cheap, vile kind of cigarettes with names like “smokes” and “basic.” Every time I bring this cigar to my mouth it's like I'm trying to draw flavor from this old ashtray and it's leaving me with the same consistent taste, pepper and woods
I honestly wanted to think this Gurkha might be better than many of its namesake, I wanted to because I genuinely love Cameroon wrapped cigars. I've liked many Cameroons that most dislike simply because I like them. But this Gurkha, in the deceptiveness of his Cameroon skin has struck me. The Gurkha detachment has arrived at my door to assassinate me and I was a fool. I thought they sent me their oldest and least virile warrior. I was wrong. This soldier, despite his wounds and faltering has wounded me. It was exactly his persistence, his unchanging methods that have done me in. I simply cannot continue in combat.
At 90 minutes I secede the battle. I have succumb to my wounds. There is easily another 10-15 minutes left to smoke, but I can't finish it. My palate can take no more. The acrid sourness that has bombarded my mouth for the past 90 minutes has left me crying 'uncle.' I take a few last strikes at the enemy to see if his heart has changed. I'm hoping in his old age he has pity on me, alas, he does not. He can taste his own victory and he's become hot and bitter. He's began to burn uneven once again, possibly in early celebration. Plumes of vile, white smoke fill my patio. The old Gurkha is celebrating.
He has left me to die slowly. He did not kill me, he simply went to sleep. But the damage is done. I can only taste sour wood and isn't that enough? I've tried cleansing my palate with sparkling flavored water, no luck, with sweet cherry coke zero, and even that tastes bad now. I may soon go wash my mouth out with bottom shelf vodka, maybe even MD 20-20, that's bound to have a better aftertaste. This Gurkha gets 3 out of 4 Kukuri's. It wasn't a quick battle, he didn't strike quickly but he won. All I can say is if you come across this Factum, don't underestimate him, don't make my mistake, run away. If he gets you, he will end you.
Upon unwrapping the cellophane I immediately get a glorious surge of cedar. I immediately think that maybe this isn't going to be as bad as I thought. Alas, no. In my excitement I failed to notice the cedar band fitted around the lower half of the cigar. This Nepalese gentleman that I will soon face off likes his cologne. Yes, I did refer to this soldier as a gentleman. If you aren't aware Factum is Latin for “Accomplishment.” My understanding here is that this is an old and accomplished constable. They've send an old warrior to take me out!
It seems this gladiator is going to make his attempt to kill me in the nude. After removing its cedar suruwā I understand why this constable was reluctant to undress. This Gurkha has seen combat. It seems this red, blood stained warrior fought his own maker tooth and nail. No really, I think the maker didn't bother trimming their nails that day. The Gurkha contingent obviously does not think highly of me. For the first attempt at assassination they've send a wounded warrior. Not including the flesh wound on the soldier's left leg, this Gurkha is exceptionally firm and has the vascularity that only a lean, rugged warrior could have after traveling hundreds of miles on rugged ground, UPS ground, that is.
Enough stalling, on to combat. I lead the first attack with my generic double blade cutter. I've mostly scalped him in one swipe. In my defense I respected his Gurkha traditions enough to allow his scalping to be done at a cant, that way he's never forced to wear a straight hat. In that one attack he's dulled my blade and I've set my weapon down. I fear the only weapon I have left is my torch, after that, I stand only to defend myself. Before lighting I take a draw, despite removal of most of the cap, the draw is tight. I hope this improves once I set the injured constable alight. I can already tell that this weary soldier is going to go down fighting. On the dry draw I'm being inundated with salt and spice.
It occurs to me that I've likely angered this Gurkha. The angle that I cut his cap isn't at the same slant as he is wearing his rank. Apparently the maker of this Gurkha didn't feel the need to arrive for battle inspection ready, either that or assumed, like all Gurkhas, they like wearing things crooked. Regardless, the fight is on. He took my attack with the torch rather well. I've set his feet on fire, and he's smoking. Now it's up to him if he's to do me in.
When I say he's smoking, I really mean it. This guy is smoking! The bad side of all this smoke, it keeps rushing to my face when I try to rest the cigar in my mouth, the good side, I haven't felt any beetles, mosquitos or their ilk land on me in the past few minutes. That said, I lit his Gurkha up at 10:18pm. I let the soldier get into his rhythm and I take a long, slow draw. There isn't what I would call a significant flavor, or striking taste. The heavy spice I expected isn't here, not even on the retrohale. It's a surprisingly gentle retrohale. Oddly enough, after expelling the smoke from my mouth there's an 'off' mouth-feel; I won't say it's good or bad, but I'm definitely tasting cedar.
Not 10 minutes in and this weary traveler is already burning unevenly. Maybe it has something to do with it's wounded leg. Either way, I think it's using smoke signals to tell it's compatriots my weaknesses. The Gurkha regiment may succeed though intelligence in it's individual failures. Either that or this constable is going to take me out through sheer smoke.
Not even 20 minutes in and this Factum's wound is causing it distress. The wound has cracked apart and splitting upwards for a good inch. He's hurt! Of course, he's blinding me with his thick white smokescreen. At the 20 minute mark this wounded, battle hardened warrior needs some more touching up.
Okay, while I'm being choked out by the smoke I'll provide a little insight about the Gurkha Factum Presidente. From cheaphumidors.com, “The Gurkha Factum is certainly an accomplishment with its Aged Cameroon wrapper and a Dominican filler and binder; it is a tasty medium-bodied cigar. The Gurkha Factum is deliciously smooth, so you’ll want to take your time with it and savor each delicious flavor.”
Okay, so it's a Cameroon wrapper, that certainly explains it's battle hardened look and ease to injure, but strangely I didn't peg this for a Cameroon, maybe it was the lack of tooth, who knows, but I can say that with this size RG I don't think the age of the wrapper matters much. Also, knowing that this is supposed to be a Dominican filler and binder, I would have been expected to be on the receiving end of an onslaught of pepper and spice. Even from one considered to be mind I should be tasting creaminess with a lingering of tartness, but instead I'm left with only a slightly sour, mildly acidic aftertaste. The retrohale is remarkably bland and instead of mellow creaminess that I would expect from a cigar that claims to be medium-bodied, I'm getting more cottage cheese.
Okay, I'm past 30 minutes and I've entered the second third of the cigar. I'm having to touch this stick up, again. Not mild touch-up's either, I'm really having to correct this fighter. The retrohale is finally starting to deliver some spice, and it seems that I've managed to dig through the curdles and find a bit of the cream that Gurkha must have intended to have in there. It's starting to smooth out a bit, this Nepalese warrior must have been tired entering the arena and it seems he's finding his second wind. Granted, I'm still not experiencing much more flavor than pepper and cedar, but hey, the constable seems to be learning how to attack with a pepper grinder.
40 minutes in, for once I haven't had to correct the burn line. This aged soldier seems to be holding his ground better if I allow him at least 90 seconds between attacks and give him a nice purge every few minutes. The mouth-feel has definitely improved. It's gone from cottage cheese to a mildly spicy creaminess. Unfortunately that's where it ends, just when you want to start focusing on the flavors and tastes, just when the smoke begins to make it's final escape from your mouth, that's when it arrives. Sour. An unpleasant sour taste. Not like the sharp, surprising sour a lemon provides but the kind of sour found on food that has gone a few days past its expiration. It's unpleasant and not enjoyable.
At the 50 minute mark I'm more than halfway through the second third. I've had to correct the burn, again. Up until now I have focused on the sour aftertaste consistently being left behind. It's ever present and almost overwhelming, but I wouldn't be doing this cigar justice if I didn't at least admit it was trying to do more. There is a lot of wood in the background. The only problem is, that's it. This is a 7.5” long cigar with a 52 RG' where is the change? Where is the complexity a cigar of this size should have? So far this Gurkha has been generally mild mannered in the arena with a slightly developing ability to use a pepper grinder and it seems he found an old crate to burn and chuck at me periodically. I'm thinking the constable hasn't bothered to bathe his entire journey and that may explain the unsettling sourness of the whole experience, but who knows, maybe he's just not too good at wiping.
One hour in, the second chunk of dark grey ash fell off only a few minutes ago. It held on for almost 2 inches. It seems the burn is no longer requiring touching up, I believe the wound on this constable's leg may have hindered him from burning evenly, but considering he balances before me like the Black Knight, missing both his legs, the battle isn't over. He's still got some fight in him and he's claiming the loss of his legs to be merely a flesh wound. It seems a long rest between draws is just the ticket as I'm wrapping up the second third and beginning to enter the final third.
The acrid aftertaste that I described before seems to be dissipating, not completely but somewhat. The old warriors second wind is fading and it looks like his ability to kill me has been reduced. This accomplished soldier is making a last attempt to stand in solidarity. He may actually be trying to stand proud. Unfortunately, it's too little and too late. The size and length of this cigar should have provided me with either creaminess or spice. It should have started the battle strong and then mellowed out waiting for an opportunity to strike with pepper and spice. Maybe he could have used different tactics and started gentle, watching me for my weaknesses and making me to believe he was weak and smooth, then at the last minute striking with bursts of pepper and woodiness that would leave me dazed. Instead, he's been an old dog that has been taught no new tricks.
72 minutes in I remove the soldiers blood red headress and notice more wounds in his nut brown Cameroon skin. He's shouting “It's merely a flesh wound,” and he may be right, but I'm tiring of his persistence. That's all he's been, persistent. Persistently unsurprising and consistently bland. There is medium-bodied and then there is this. Sure, by definition this aged combatant has met the standards of 'medium-bodied' but just because he met the requirement doesn't mean he earned the medals. This old constable never deserved promotion; not because he was a horrible soldier but because he was never a good one.
At 80 minutes I've began on the final third and I'm only continuing to partake for the sake of this tortuous review. I feel like I've spent the past hour licking an old ashtray found on the back shelf of the kind of antique store ran by a hoarder and not a businessman. The ashtray wasn't saved for it's beauty but simply because the owner couldn't, through his own inability, throw it away. The ashtray is an old hardwood, intended for a life of cigars but seemingly used its entire life to snuff out the cheap, vile kind of cigarettes with names like “smokes” and “basic.” Every time I bring this cigar to my mouth it's like I'm trying to draw flavor from this old ashtray and it's leaving me with the same consistent taste, pepper and woods
I honestly wanted to think this Gurkha might be better than many of its namesake, I wanted to because I genuinely love Cameroon wrapped cigars. I've liked many Cameroons that most dislike simply because I like them. But this Gurkha, in the deceptiveness of his Cameroon skin has struck me. The Gurkha detachment has arrived at my door to assassinate me and I was a fool. I thought they sent me their oldest and least virile warrior. I was wrong. This soldier, despite his wounds and faltering has wounded me. It was exactly his persistence, his unchanging methods that have done me in. I simply cannot continue in combat.
At 90 minutes I secede the battle. I have succumb to my wounds. There is easily another 10-15 minutes left to smoke, but I can't finish it. My palate can take no more. The acrid sourness that has bombarded my mouth for the past 90 minutes has left me crying 'uncle.' I take a few last strikes at the enemy to see if his heart has changed. I'm hoping in his old age he has pity on me, alas, he does not. He can taste his own victory and he's become hot and bitter. He's began to burn uneven once again, possibly in early celebration. Plumes of vile, white smoke fill my patio. The old Gurkha is celebrating.
He has left me to die slowly. He did not kill me, he simply went to sleep. But the damage is done. I can only taste sour wood and isn't that enough? I've tried cleansing my palate with sparkling flavored water, no luck, with sweet cherry coke zero, and even that tastes bad now. I may soon go wash my mouth out with bottom shelf vodka, maybe even MD 20-20, that's bound to have a better aftertaste. This Gurkha gets 3 out of 4 Kukuri's. It wasn't a quick battle, he didn't strike quickly but he won. All I can say is if you come across this Factum, don't underestimate him, don't make my mistake, run away. If he gets you, he will end you.
