Whisky Magazine Issue 11
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A cigar replete with the aromas of bourbon, 'Paradise', thought Adam Edwards, and that's was where his troubles began
I am an innocent at the complexities of marketing. Who was the PR, for example, who decided that I should be the lucky journalist to receive a large cardboard box of 23 different Caribbean hot sauces? I like hot sauce as much as the next jerk chicken grazer but it is not something I have made public. Why should a variety box of chilli arrive on my desk in the second week of January with no receipt and no covering note?
It is a conundrum that I have spent many an idle moment considering, and over the years it has made me philosophical about the morning post. So when the test-tube cigar arrived last month with no visible press release I stuck it in my top pocket without so much as a mental twitch as to who or why it was sent. Or rather my brain registered dully that it would be particularly enjoyable smoke with a digestif later that day.
It was a big cigar – the size of the torpedo shaped Montecristo Belicoso without the pointy bit at the end – and with no band. It was sealed in a plain glass tube with red sealing wax. “Somebody loves you,” said my secretary with a crude smirk. But as I had no idea who that somebody might be I smiled back and patted my pocket.
It was too big for an after lunch smoke but it received many admiring glances (and a couple of not so admirable drolleries) from the disorderly and bibulous lunchtime crowd. I decided not to show it too my wife that evening as, like my secretary, she could so easily jump to the wrong conclusion. Instead I popp...