Side note: I smoke the hell out of my pipes. I clench my pipes. They all have teeth marks. Scoff with confidence pipedouches.

Tapered- A tapered stem: Let’s see, how do I explain a tapered stem? HMMMM. It’s tapered. Yup. The tapered stem is widest at the point where it connects with the shank, and tapers down to the end you shove into your face. This is shaping up to be a stupid article. Against my better judgment I am going to continue on.

Fish Tail- Not even sure if this is a shape that is even a mainstream term, but I know that when you purchase a Peterson pipe, the choice of stem is either the fishtail, or the P-lip, don’t worry, I will address the P-lip. I don’t own a Peterson with a fish tail stem, but I have a few pipes that have stems that are shaped like what can only be described as a fish tail. It resembles a regular tapered bit, and maybe can fit in the same category as tapered, except the ones I call fish tails flare back out towards the button.

Saddle bit- Why is it called a saddle bit? No clue. But this is what they look like. They can be either curved or straight. Instead of a gradual taper down to the mouthpiece, the saddle bit remains the same diameter as the shank of the pipe, until a point determined by the carver. It then is carved out, to take a more angular taper to the mouthpiece. A compelling question is: Why, when Saddle Bits are referenced, they are always called bits? Likewise, when tapered stems are mentioned, I never hear them called “Tapered Bits”, always “Tapered Stems”.

Church Warden- well its just a very long stem. I don’t even think you can classify this as a stem shape..Just adding a little filler.

Special thanks to Peter for the Church Warden photo!

Freehand Stem- Yeah. More filler. If a stem doesn’t fit in another shape category, we call it a freehand..Just like freehand pipes.

P-Lip- Okay, the P-Lip..The P-Lip is best described as the Miracle Whip of pipe stems. You absolutely hate them, to the point where you throw them in a fire, and get new stems fitted to your P-Lip pipes, or you love them so much, you drool and slobber all over them like..I won’t go there..it’s filthy. The P-Lip is the creation of the Peterson pipe company. They figured: “Hey, people complain about tongue bite..Lets make a stem that directs the smoke away from the tongue, and instead, to the roof of your mouth”..Because tongue bite sucks, but roof of mouth bite is awesome! Well, that’s how I interpret it. They achieve the direction of the smoke flow by placing the smoke hole on the top of the stem, rather than on the end of it like any traditional stem.

Special thanks to Jason for sending me a photo of his p-lip (well that sounds dirty.)

I don’t have much more insight on this subject, except that stems are all just a matter of preference. I don’t find any different stem better then the other. Some pipes I love with tapered bits, and some I love with a saddle stem *see how I flipped flopped that one?* All pipes I hate with a P-lip, and I don’t own any pipes with a Cumberland stem..But I really want one. I’ll add one more quirky bit though *oh the puns* It seems there is a lot of confusion with some pipe shapes, most notably the whole bulldog vs. Rhodesian drama, as well as the Canadian vs. lumberman/lovat war..Well. I’m not getting into it, but sometimes, the shape of a pipe is dictated by a specific stem shape. AwwwwwwRight!

’London made’. I have a handful of pipes with those words stamped on the shank somewhere, and to me it means several things (beside being the actual birthplace of these puffers): first of all it’s the promise of a trusty smoker of high quality, and secondly it provides me a feeling of being part of an old and fine culture. See, for me London has always been THE pipe capitol of the world. In a very fundamental way. It is here that the ritual really got refined and shaped. I have great respect for this and I consider it an honor to be allowed to carry on the tradition (in a world that gradually discards these type of values in favor of more late-modernist emptiness).

So it was with extra pleasure that I came here with my wife for her education. We’ve been here just over a month now, and we’ll be here for three more. We’ve already fallen deeply in love with the city. It is a welcome contrast to Copenhagen. Much easier and cheaper to live in. But that is another part of the story, back to focus. Of course I have brought along a selection of pipes and the necessary tools, and I’ve already smoked some good bowls. Especially on my walks in Epping Forest. I had naturally brought a little tobacco too – a couple of my favorites. But I didn’t pack too many tins. I was, after all, going to London where it actually might be possible to find such a thing as Samuel Gawith on the shelves. I would gladly let Full Virginia Flake be the typical choice during my stay.

The other day I went into the city center to visit two pipeshops. Two that I had been told would be the biggest and best. I was delighted that morning. Imagined their selection and all the interesting conversations I was to have with the shop assistants – a thing I enjoy a lot with customers when I stand behind the counter at The Danish Pipeshop. It was not difficult to find the shops and I was full of anticipation as I opened the door to the first. And it was absolutely gorgeous. Beautifully and classic decorated. Kept in heavy, dark wood types. Full of atmosphere. I devoured it with my eyes. At least for a moment. Then it dawned on me how few pipes that were exhibited. One single plate on the wall, 1.5 x 1,5 meters. Well, I thought. It may be that they go by the motto “quality over quantity ‘, fair enough. But as I approached and began to inspect the selcetion, I was thoroughly disappointed. A handful of Stanwell (the typical) and a pair of Peterson. Otherwise only cheap baskets pipes that oddly had crept into a prominent place on the wall. Hm. But okay, I was not looking for a new pipe. I was looking for tobacco. Good tobacco.

I turned around and walked over to the counter to get a view of the tins. Which took about three seconds. Believe it or not, we have gas stations in Denmark with similar or even better range. No Samuel Gawith. MacBaren was the dominant brand. And we have tons of that stuff Denmark. They did have their ‘own’ house blends in glass jars (produced by Gawith Hogarth), which looked more exciting. The clerk, a relatively young guy approached me with a questioning look, and I asked him if he had a good, pure Virginia flake. He gave it some thought, whereupon he informed me that the closest we could get was Louisiana Flake, which also had ‘something called … uh, Perique’ in it. Aha. Well, it sounded fine, I like a Va/Per every now and then, so I bought a small bag before I was on my way.

The next shop looked more promising, I thought. There appeared to be slightly more tins on the shelves. Seen out from the sidewalk anyway. There wasn’t, it turned out. The staff was incredibly well-dressed. It was – in addition to a young kid in a stiff suit – of a bunch of older gentlemen who distinguished themself by falling straight down into the stereotype of a tight lipped British gentleman. Ah, I thought, they should know a thing or two! But before I spoke with them I would just lurk at their pipes. There were certainly more than in the first shop. Dunhill, Davidoff, Savinelli was to be found. But nothing that made my blood boil. Just the most common models and series. But again, I was not trying to expand the collection so I could allow myself just to shrug.

Then I want to gaze the tobaccos behind the counter. Again, MacBaran. And a handful of typical aromatic slave tobaccos that one can find anywhere in Europe. I did however spot a tin that I could not remember. I turned to the young kid (who was closest) and the conversation was as follows:

Me: ”Excuse me, that tin there. What type of tobacco is it?” Jack: ”That one? Hm. I think it is … no, excuse me, we better ask …”

Then he dragged one of the old noble-looking men over.

Kid: ”The gentleman would like to know what type of tobacco is in this one…”

The noble man looked carefully at the can for a few long seconds before answering:

Nobel man: ”Well, it’s … it’s probably a mixture.” Me: ”So there is Latakia in it?” Nobel man: ”Latakia? No, it’s a mixture.” Me: ”But an English mixture?”

The man looks back at the tin.

Nobel man: ”Ooooh, I believe so. I think it’s made here, yes.”

I had to change strategy.

Me: ”Ok. What does it taste like then?” Nobel man: ”Taste? Hm, I would think that it is slightly sweet. Not entirely sure though.” Me. ”Thank you.”

Less than five seconds later I found myself once again out on the street, shaking my head. If this is the standard here, things are bleak in the old pipe country. Of course it’s not their fault that the market is difficult for pipes and pipe tobacco these days. In this way, one can not blame them for their ignorance. That they, for example are focusing more on cigars makes good (capitalist) sense all things considered. But then again, ignorance (which to the customer appears to be sheer lack of interest) doesn’t exactly help the case, so in a way they are in fact partly responsible. It is not their ‘hmmmm’ that gets new people to be interested in the hobby, the culture. When I myself as a salesman is talking with young people who are considering buying a pipe, I always do the best I can to show my own interest and passion. It may be naive, but I think that to a certain degree it can rub off on them. Give them a feeling that there are other more interesting aspects of the smoking than just the smoke itself. That there’s a depth that can be explored and that there is an invisible value in the products that can be enjoyed at many different levels – also aesthetically. And that is the way forward, I think. If pipes must have a revival – like cigars – it’s very much our responsibility as pipe smokers to inspire it. To carry on the legacy with respect and insight.

It’s sad to see that the English pipe smokers have so far failed in this regard. London in this sense has fallen! Understand me right, I know several “good” pipe smokers in Britain that not only honors the tradition, but even lift it to a new stage. But they are not numerous enough to have affected the business in general. And when they’re simultaneously fought by a puritanical world structure, then it is not an easy task. I can not accomplish much in that sense during my time here. Other than continuing to raise my pipe with pride and hope for the best.

“Ild i piben!” as my boss always says to me. “Fire in the pipe!”. And that we must keep. In more than one way.

Well, our lovely government is at it again. It seems like every time we all come together as fine tobacco enthusiasts and crush one demoralizing, controlling bill or act, another one surfaces. So this time it’s the Food and Drug Administration. Basically, from my understanding, which is “Layman terms” I have formed a paraphrase/analysis/metaphor?? You know all those tests, inspections, data collection, and quality control checks that that the FDA implements to food to make it “safe” for our consumption? Well, they want to do that to cigar production and manufacturing. What that means is all the expensive cigars we enjoy, will cost more. They will have to, because the cigar companies are going to have to foot the bill for all these regulations, tests, checks, and whatnots. Furthermore, the industry will be strictly regulated in how our sticks will be packaged. This means no more creativity in box art, which might sound stupid and unimportant, but let me just inform you non smokers what cigar smoking is all about: Time honored traditions and old world craftsmanship; guys this is a true form of art to be respected and cherished. Cigars are about celebration and camaraderie, dedication, and discipline. Lighting up a fine, hand rolled cigar can be compared to indulging in a steak prepared by a top notch chef, who sourced the beef from a farm down the street, where the farmer fed the cow only the best food, or grass, or whatever cows love the most. Weather or not you smoke cigars or not, you can appreciate something handcrafted, and there is no doubt something in your life that you enjoy, that you could compare it to. Well you don’t smoke, and cigars are stinky, so who gives a crap ? Right? Well, support us for what we love, and be assured, that we have your back when the government starts sticking its hands in your cookie jar, because cigar smokers and pipe smokers are the warmest, friendliest, most generous people that walk the earth… But, we are scrappers. We will strike hard, and first, when provoked.

I’ve been involved in various depths of dog rescue for a number of years. In the last few years my involvement has tapered off, but in the pit bull world, as RESPONSIBLE owners, (and there are FAR too many irresponsible ones), we find ourselves having to work harder than our Labrador neighbor. We fight for our dogs to be understood, we advocate for responsible ownership, and we educate our communities on the wonderful breed. Our dogs are blamed for everything wrong in the neighborhood; they are associated with unsavory people and criminal acts. The media plays up incidents involving pit bulls, and will label any mixed breed of dog, as one. But whatever, that is a different story. I’ll make this spiel relevant to the topic now: In the world of pit bull rescue, we have a saying:

“Your Breed Is Next”

It simply means that targets change. You may not care about cigars, or the fine folks that have a passion for making them. There IS something you are passionate about though, and that something may be the next target of such a proposal. There was a time where the American Pit bull Terrier was portrayed as the heroes I know them as. They fought in wars, and were a symbol of the United States of America. Now they are pariahs. Hopefully with hard work we can change the stigma attached to this breed, but unfortunately, another one will have to take its place. Be informed in your decisions; take sides only after properly and thoroughly educating yourself.

So here is the petition. We are closing in on 10,000 signatures, but we need 25,000. We’ll get it. We’ll get more, but we need you. We need your neighbor, your mother, everyone you know. Share it on Twitter and Facebook. If for no other reason, just do it because your “breed” is next.

What will happen if the FDA does regulate premium cigars?
Higher cigar prices funding FDA to take control of the cigar industry.
Manufacturing restrictions that ruin the taste and aroma of your cigar.
Potential end to new cigar blends and limited editions.
No more self-service walk-in humidors–your cigars could be behind lock and key.
Onerous advertising restrictions.
No more premium cigars with flavors of coffee, distilled spirits, or other flavorings sought only by adult audiences. *source credit IPCPR.org*

Now get personal with us. I asked twitter followers and facebook “fans” “If the FDA is successful with their drive to regulate premium cigars, how will it affect you?” And here are the responses I got. I propose the same question to you.

“FDA, if all flavored tobacco banned, would boot me out of a job, cigar regulations would also can me”. ~@thepipebit Chris R.: Pipe tobacconist at Uhle’s Pipe Shop
“I will likely lose my job, as online sales will be banned. ~@bootblackblast Jessica D.: employee of www.CigarPlace.biz
“I will go back to stripping”. ~@Room101Cigars Matt Booth, owner: Room 101 Cigars
“I will make jewelry.” ~@RODRIGOcigars George Rodriguez, owner: Rodrigo Cigars
“I will be unemployed.” ~@MCCBarry- Barry S, Sales representative for Miami Cigar Company @SteelSouls Replied: “Word” to @MCCBarry’s response of “I’ll be unemployed”. General Manager of Barrister Cigars, in Union, NJ
“My guess is it will drive all the more casual smokers out of the market.” ~@EmilioCigar- Gary Griffith, owner of Emilio Cigars/ Manager at Delaware Cigar Company.
“My favorite pastime may be double the $ and the black market will thrive.” @SeriousBok- www.BroadandLuxe.com
“It could put small boutique manufacturers out of business. The compliance cost would be too prohibitive.” ~@ChiefHava Skip Martin, Roma Craft Tobac
“Gonna force me to buy cigars when I go on vacation out of the country!!! SMH”~@_LOD :Contributor at www.bandbcigarclub.com

Like many others before me, the first tobacco I loaded my pipe with was an aromatic. That was what the lady in the shop suggested, and hey, it smelled delicious. The taste? Well, back then I didn’t taste the tobacco, had no idea how, so I honestly just tasted smoke. Sure, there was a certain fruity note in the air, but I wasn’t able to really find anything in the smoke itself. Hey, I thought, it’ll come, I’ll learn, no worries.

And yes, I learned during my explorations of various super cased tobaccos. I learned to taste the difference at least. Some sort of difference. Then I began to read up on the stuff. Found forums on the old web, and eventually also found a few videos on youtube. Some of them talked about different types of blends – something called English mixtures, Balkans, VaPers, and more. New terms I had no idea what meant. But they made me curious and told promising stories of a world that was so much bigger than I suspected. A world I just had to explore.

For reasons that I how now forgot I decided to try these ’mixtures’ first. Perhaps because I’d read so many raving posts about this Latakia-thing and the magic of Orientals. Or perhaps because it seemed to be the most exotic way to go. I don’t know. In any case, I bought a little tin of My Own Blend Kong Frederik IX (one of the more popular mixtures in Denmark), and when I first smelled it, I was blown away by its full and very natural (but also strange) aroma. This was indeed something else, something very far from the cherry-chocolate-vanilla compositions I’d know so far. My first bowl of it was good. Good enough for me to completely discard the aromatics and smoke nothing but various mixtures for almost two years.

There came a day where I once again felt like wearing my old jungle hat and do some further exploring. But where to go? Didn’t take me too long to decide. One of the things I’d really liked about the mixtures was the natural sweetness that was lurking in their dark corners, and I had learned that it stemmed from the Virginias and their high amount of natural dextrose. Therefore a straight Virginia felt like a natural choice. I believe the first one I tried was Rattray’s Old Gowrie (or perhaps Marlin Flake), but what I do know is that even though a straight Virginia isn’t nearly as forgiving a smoke as a mixture, I had found my style of tobacco. There was, it seemed, no turning back. And now, years later, I still haven’t. I’m still a Virginia smoker 98% of the time (with the 2% being reserved for delicious Virginia/Perique combos).

Well, that was sort of a long intro to what I actually wanted to talk about here. You see, during the time I’ve tried quite a lot of different Virginias, both European and American, and I’ve noticed an overall difference that I will try to explain here. It may sound like generalization but please remember, I AM speaking very generally here.

Let’s go EU to begin with. The European Virginias are what I will here call ’aristocratic’ in the sense that they’re quite tight lipped and ’thin’. There is something almost reluctant about them, something almost arrogant. One has to be worthy of their flavors, I sometimes think. Smoking them can almost feel like begging for them to tell their secrets. They’re not unfriendly, not at all, but they’re not generous either. That’s sort of the overall impression I have of EU made Virginias.

Another aspect of them is that the tradition in EU is somewhat uniform. Even if you consider the extremes there are not an enormous difference between them. And if a Virginia is in the bright end of the spectrum it is almost always tuned with a bit of citrus notes, and if they are darker, there is typically something over them that reminds me of dry, dark chocolate. And that is more or less it. Not many colors to choose from. The Virginias in Europe seems to be treated in a quite conservative manner.

The US made ones, I find, are very different. Compared to their European relatives they’re extremely bold and noisy. There’s no hiding anything with them. They’re out there like a drunk sailor on leave (not to say they’re not elegant or well behaved!). They have huge gestures and strikes me as the fun uncle in the family.

The chrematistics are far more diverse – even if one compare Virginias of the same ’category’. A bright one isn’t necessarily ’just another Golden Sliced citrus clone’, and a darker variety can easily move away from the dark chocolate notes in favor of more fruity playfulness. I know that a lot of this has to do with the – in general – more loose hand when it comes to casing and toppings, that should of course be considered. But I’ve still to smoke one that is overly flavored with something, and overall I find the treatments very respectful. Either way, the result is a range of Virginias with a whole lot of personality.

The above impressions may of course be very different from others, but in my book they make sense. This text could even go as far as to draw up some interesting cultural theoretic lines, but I won’t bore you with that kind of pseudo-academic babble. What would be interesting, though, is your opinion on this. Do you have a similar experience?

Finally I might as well mention my preferences when it comes to the above. Some of my favorites are EU made – like Capstan Original Navy Cut, Richmond Navy cut, Full Virginia Flake, and Astley No. 44. But overall I prefer the American approach, and the best Virginias I’ve smoked has been gifted from friends across the pond. Blenders like GL Pease and McClelland are in my perspective in the absolute top, and if their blends were available over here I would probably smoke nothing but Union Square and Blackwoods Flake. Man, that’s some good Virginia!

My first cigar of the season was a favorite from last year: The Diesel Shorty LTD, made by AJ Fernandez, and made for TV star/pit bull rescuer (another reason for my purchase)/ midget, Shorty Rossi. Yup, I said Midget. Fact is, Shorty will never read this, I reached out to him a dozen times for an interview and as expected, was ignored. Who am I after all? He’s a very busy man. Another fact: Should he ever read this, maybe he’ll get mad, and punch me in the face. Who has a cooler story than that? Nobody..OK, back to it.. It’s a short, robust cigar, sized at 4 inches long with a 60 ring gauge. For you pipe guys who don’t enjoy fine cigars, or anyone else, ring gauge is a description of the measurement of diameter, or thickness of a cigar. In scientifical terms, it’s measured in 64 th’s of an inch; For whatever reason. I’m sure that info can be found at some reputable tobacco related blog. I smoked this cigar because this is the cigar I bought to celebrate the birth of my son, Sully. I bought a bunch and gave them out to friends. I printed a bunch of “commemorative” bands to put on them.

I saved one to smoke on his 1 st birthday. Well, my in-laws were visiting then, and then I came up with about 50 other excuses to not set aside an hour of enjoyment. So I ended up partaking on this “celebration” the other day. Better late than never. If you want to get your hands on some Diesel Shorty’s, get in touch with my friend, and VERY SPORADIC contributor to Botscast: “Blast”..Or Jessica, the cigar Ninja, over at www.CigarPlace.biz. I had a little arrangement with them last year, involving advertising, and that’s how I met her, and it could be argued that I am biased in my plug of their site. Well, their prices are low, if not the lowest online, and customer service is great. Inventory isn’t always in stock, but you can be alerted via email when they get your fave sticks in. I’ll take that over paying more money per box, so take away from that whatever you want. The next day I smoked another of my favorites from last year, the Room101 LTD Conjura.

It’s a spicy little 4X44 and it’s box pressed which I like. Not only that,I like to support good people. Matt Booth is probably the coolest guy on the face of the earth,and easily the most genuine and down-to-earth.

So have you guys started toasting up the stogies yet? Which ones?

There are some tobaccos that I age, but these are not them. These are the rejects. The mistakes of a new smoker. Poorly raised children that you’re just looking for an excuse to throw out of the house. It’s not the fault of the jars, it’s mine, but now they sit there reminding me of my ignorance toward a hobby. My lack of knowledge on a specific subject. It makes no sense that this would be a source of stress, but for some reason, it is. I do much better with small amounts, manageable chunks. A small box of things I can look fondly upon. Not a chest of old journals and creased photos.

I’ll probably never throw them out…because I’m a collector. I’ll just continue to feel overwhelmed and occasionally consider condensing and then go about my day. Perhaps that’s where the stress comes from. It’s such a contradiction to be overwhelmed by clutter and yet be a collector. The classic biting off more than you can chew scenario or, more to the point, a packing up more than you can smoke scenario. I’d give it away, but it’s been so poorly kept that I’m not sure if it would be worth smoking. Another thing is I’m scared to send it to friends for fear that they will judge me by it. It’s like when you go out all the time, but never have anyone over because you’re ashamed of your apartment.

I’ve often wondered if I’m alone in this and would like to here some feed back on the matter. Do any of the Botscast readers have way more tobacco than they need or even want, but don’t have the heart to throw out? Are you ever concerned about sending people tobacco? Let me know.

Sir Walter Raleigh:

“Comes meus fuit illo miserrimo tempo”… Or in my native English “It was my companion at that most miserable time.” This is what my tobacco was to me.

‘Twas many years after my escapades in the Americas, (what I hath considered to be the prime of mine own life), that I was sitting in my prison tower, awaiting execution. It wasn’t the first time I had been in prison. My first imprisonment came shortly after I broke off my relations with Queen Elizabeth for one of her hand maidens. This enraged the Queen, my backing out of our love affair. I wanted someone new, young and fresh. In the end, I spent the fair Queen for all she was worth in the Bedroom; the woman was experienced, I shall commend her to that. Quite naughty was our affair; many times she wouldsts pleasure me in most the inopportune of places, such as at the royal Banquets. Often during those banquets she would commence to pleasure me beneath the dinner table by giving to me a handeth jobbeth amidst the meal and conversation. The Queen’s methods were quite clever in nature, often she would take a pat of butter or grease from a turkey leg in place of lubricant in order to “do her Majesty’s work”. I would maintain my composure through out, not a one at the dinner parties wouldst be aware of what was occurring beneath the tablecloth, for even at my moment of climax, my face was as solemn as a sailor. She took thrill in the possibility of being caught. Many times I wouldst receive a reacheth aroundeth, or she wouldst ride me as if I were a noble steed. But however pleasurable she may have been, nothing could make up for that foul face which she bore. And her hand maiden was privy to all the same tricks as the Queen, and more refined and well developed tricks of a younger generation. I shouldst mention also that the youth of the bonny lass contributed to the dexterity of her hands and fingers. She was also able to rolleth her tongue. Consequently the Queen, in a Jealous rage, threw us into prison. We stayed there until the Queen needed me to embark on expeditions to the Americas. This only gave me more free time to explore the maiden’s “Golden City.”

That ’twas the first time. On this second occasion I am accused of espionage, which may or may not be truth. As I sat there I sought back in mine own mind to the prime days. Days when I explored for the city of Gold, and found only jungle and women whom wouldst pleasure me to the extent of which I felt as if I had turned to gold! I think back to the disaster days of Roanoke, that glorious debacle and when I Ironically named Virginia after the Virgin Queen whom I was bonething.

I lighteth my pipe of tobacco one last time, to enjoy my old friend before death is dealt my way.

I take my last puff of smoke as the guards come take me away to have my head severed. No matter, I hath shared a bed with more women that one couldst count; my life ’tis complete. I am guided to the city square where many hath gathered to watch the Great Sir Walter Raleigh be executed. I look into the executioners eyes as I kneel down before the chopping block. I request to see the blade that will take my life. ‘Twas a good blade, indeed. To the executioner I say “Let us dispatch, At this hour my ague comes upon me. I would not have my enemies think I quaked from fear” I lay my head on the block, ready for the death dealing blow of the ax, as I cry out “STRIKE MAN, STRIKE, as I did to thine mother last night!” In blind rage, executioner swings his axe. Darkness.

(Taxi Driver)

When I’m out and about I prefer not to be too weighted down. I’ll fit what I can in my pocket, but will rarely carry a backpack or bag. I just don’t want the hassle of digging in it or having to keep track of something. I’ve also never owned a pipe case. I like them, but I cant really afford one and if you’re smoking briar you’ll probably need to bring more than one pipe. Lately when I go out I go corncob.

For the longest time I didn’t like cobs at all. They seemed so cheaply made and I would chew right through them. Then I realized that it wasn’t the cob I didn’t like, it was the stem. That orange piece of garbage was ruining my opinion of something that deserved better. For Christmas this year I received some tobacco and a small bowled cob with the black plastic stem. This has quickly become my go to, on the go pipe. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve smoked a briar. Not because I don’t want to, but because my cob is so readily available. Not only that, the thing can take a punishing. I can smoke it all day and tap it out on the side of my car or wherever and aside from some charring its still in top condition. The black stemmed cob is the .38 snub nose of pipes. Eventually I will end up chewing through the stem, but by that time this cob will have done more than could ever be asked of it.

Another item that I keep on me most of the time is a tin of snus. I’m often alone at work and therefore cannot take smoke breaks, so snus is my solution. When I worked construction I would often chew on the job because I felt a cigarette in one hand made you look idle to a nonsmoking boss. These days I work around a lot of children and have to give a tobacco free appearance. A packet of snus set far back in the jaw is virtually invisible and most blends provide a pretty serious nicotine kick. I usually buy the General White, but lately I’ve been experimenting with the Classic and I think I may like it more. The gas station by my work has been selling the smaller sample packs and like to buy them because sometimes I wont be able to finish a whole tin before it dries out. The smaller pack gives the opportunity to maximize freshness. I have the same problem with pipe tobacco. I carry a small pouch in my back pocket, but I always over fill it. Then I’ll either get bored with what’s in there or someone will send me some blends to try and by the time I get back to the pouch it’s filled with dust. I need to learn to just pack a days worth instead of a months, but hey, easier said then done. So there you have it, my road kit. What do you guys and girls carry with you during your day to day activities and why? I’d love to hear about it.

When I buy a pipe I prefer to do it in person at a brick and mortar. I like things that I can hold and admire and appreciate. I look very closely and take in the beauty for what it is. This is as pure as it will ever be. A child without sin. Once it leaves the store it will be affected by whomever decides to take it home. Subjected to varying levels of care and treatment. The hope is that it will be loved and cared for, but this is not always the case. Some may be mistreated or neglected and fall victim to an array of horrifying ordeals. This is the life of a pipe and they must play the hand they’re dealt. We all must.

Pipes have a certain amount of integrity to them. For the most part, they will reflect the respect given to them and act accordingly. They require a break in period. A training of what’s to come and what will be expected of them. A time in which to grow richer and sweeter and blossom into something to really be proud of. After that, it’s all maintenance. This is where it happens. This beautiful thing that you’ve cared for and put love and patience into begins to show its flaws. Small discolorations that you thought could be ignored are now prominent. They are now unavoidable. They are now all you see and no amount of buffing can fix it. I have some pipes that no matter how good I treat them they continue to disappoint. I try and I try, but they never get back to what they were. At times I wonder if they ever were at all or if the beauty and elegance were all in my head. A lie I told myself to avoid facing the reality of the situation. Things that I either missed or chose not to see.

Large parts of my life have been this way and I’ve done nothing about it. I’ve lived with these personal flaws that I couldn’t stand and instead of changing the person I was I just pretended they were not there. The sad part is that just like the flaws in my pipes, they could not be ignored. They festered and affected and saddened me to a crippling degree. I had stopped doing the things that I loved because they no longer gave me any enjoyment. I secluded from my friends and family. Well, no longer will I allow this to continue. I need to be a better man. I need to be the person that i’ve always hoped to be.

I appreciate all the support and concerned messages I’ve received and am sorry for not responding. When I can, I plan to catch up on my mail and my life and get things moving in a proper direction. Until then I will do my best to regularly contribute to Botscast with the same level of enthusiasm that you’ve come to expect. Thank you once again. It’s good to be back.

When I travel , I make it a point, to find a local cigar establishment and spend a couple of hours there. It’s not that I am a frequent traveler, but I get a good idea of what the local populace is about and what they are thinking .

A Couple of places come to mind. The grand daddy of all cigar B & M ‘s is Fox’s in London. I was in London back in 2009 with my wife and while she was having a business meeting, I made the pilgrimage to Fox’s . The store was about a 20 minute jaunt from my hotel in a business section of town. I arrived at the front door and my heart jumped. I was going to be in the place where WInston Churchill smoked.
There were a couple of customers there placing orders. What struck me immediately was that the two employees were dressed vastly different.
The younger of the two had a three piece suit on, looking as if he was a member of the House of Lords. . He was behind a computer screen , speaking to a client on the phone. They were in conversation about a new shipment of Cuban cigars coming in and the client was placing an order.
The other employee was an older man, sporting a vest with a pocket watch and resembling a character from Dickens. He asked me if I needed help and I said to him, ” I’ve come 6000 miles from Los Angeles to pay a visit to your store.” He seemed impressed and offered to give show me around.
The store itself is not particularly large but I enjoyed the guided tour . He showed the chair that Winston Churchill smoked in and a painting of Sir Winston that hung on a wall . I also looked at many different brands of cigars, mostly Cuban and a small amount of central american brands.
I was overwhelmed with the selection and asked him to help me pick out a special cigar as a remembrance of my trip. He went back to the front counter and selected a Monti #2 from the stash. He told me this stick was specially aged and would be a good choice. I thanked him and paid for the purchase, the most expense cigar I ever bought (17 pounds , 20 pence ), and asked him if I could take some photos of the shop. He said of course, I thanked him and then left. As I left I felt I just marched through a piece of history and Sir Winston was about to smoke with me.
That night I went back to the hotel, sat in the English garden and puffed away. I don’t know if it was the best cigar I ever smoked, but wanted to believe it was.
Thank God for England, they do things differently with a style that is unique and full of custom which is a throwback I truly enjoy.

A bit of a contrast but no less enjoyable was a B & M in Larchmont , NY. called Dom’s cigars. I hope that place is still around because if you live in the New York area, Dom’s is worth a trip. Once again, I was with my wife , visiting this time her sister in law . The two of them chose to do something that did not appeal to me and was ” allowed” to take off by myself. I noticed Dom’s the day before while we were walking around Larchmont , looking for a lunch spot. It was a cold, rainy walk to Dom’s which to me was not unpleasant . I was dressed for the wet stuff, and truly enjoyed the touch of bad weather as Los Angeles is about 75- 85 degrees, 325 days a year. As I grew up back east, I am not taken aback by rain or snow.
I went into Dom’s and the place was empty. The walls were lined with sport celebrities , mostly NY legends such as Joe D, Mickey Mantle, Walt Frazier and Joe Namath. I walked through the store, looking at cigars and accessories when Dom came out from the back room. He asked me if I I needed help and told him I had time to kill and wanted to sit down and smoke a cigar in his lounge. Dom took me through his humidor, and I picked up a Gispert Maduro , which at the time was a new stick for me. I lit it up, Dom offered me a cup of coffee which I accepted.
There was a basketball game on the TV screen ( not a flat screen , this was around the year 2005) We proceeded to watch the game , and talk about LA as Dom never had paid a visit.
I told him LA was not what I expected when I moved there in 1997 as I shared many stereotypes that east coast people have of Los Angeles. After the Gispert smoked down to the nub, he offered me another cigar as his gift to this transplanted NY/Boston guy. I don’t remember what the cigar was, but it did not really matter. I was sharing a smoke with a friend who I knew for about 2 hours but felt like I knew him for years. Eventually I needed to get back and thanked him for the great time. He said he had a fine time too and if I ever come back , pay him a visit.
I recently went through my business cards and tossed his out which I could kick myself for.
However, Dom is in my memory and this is what cigar smoking is about, finding new adventures, new friends and never being bored.

Davidoff in London