Words you should know: Criollo*

You've heard the word in passing as folks describe cigars, tobacco plants, and/or tobacco seeds, depending on who's doing the talking. By the way, we're ignoring the people who say it just to sound smart, especially since they usually mispronounce it** and/or don't know what the word actually means.

[source]

Keep reading and you'll know all the things. (Or at least mostly all the things. Or at least some things. Or something.)

The word translates to "native seed," so when you say "criollo," some folks may think you mean actual Cuban leaf grown on Cuban soil--the actual plant.

However--there's always a however, isn't there?--Criollo also means a person of Spanish descent born in Spanish America. Know what else can mean the same thing? Creole, as in "I went to New Orleans for the International Premium Cigars and Pipe Retailers (IPCPR) convention and never met anyone of Creole descent. But I sure did have some Creole food while smoking a criollo cigar." (There's also a criollo horse, but that's a blog post for another time. Probably around never o'clock.)

[source]

We're here for tobacco, though. So think of the criollo seeds as those native to Cuba, but (literally) uprooted and planted in another region, most notably Nicaragua,  Honduras, and San Andres in southern Mexico.

Obviously, if you live on planet Earth, and for the sake of argument, we'll make that assumption, you know the US and Cuba have been in a tiff for quite a long time, so you can't just call Fidel and ask him to send some criollo seeds. However! When Cuban tobacco growers beat feet out of the country for points southwest (Central America), as well as north to Miami, F-L-A*** and south to the Dominican Republic (among other non-Cuban havens), with them went their livelihood and way of life: tobacco seeds.

Those original criollo seeds have changed over the years,**** especially through hybridization to eliminate blue mold, a disease known to destroy plants and crops.

Once, criollo lived only as a sun-grown plant and, as a result, spent the rest of its days within the cigar, as filler. (Poor criollo.)

Yes, grown in the actual shade. [source]

Now, however, thanks to the innovation and smarty-pantsness of tobacco growers, a shade-grown criollo emerged around the turn of the century (20th to 21st), proudly becoming a perfect first impression of the cigar--the wrapper.

We're telling you this because we care about you: Please don't say "This tastes like criollo." No. Just...no. Remember that tobacco's taste/flavor ultimately comes from the soil and regional conditions, not the seeds themselves. For example, you'll find a Jalapa, Nicaragua-grown criollo much sweeter than that from the Esteli, Nicaragua region. (You're welcome to use that fact at your next cocktail party.)

Oh! Maybe next time we see you, we'll tell you about the criollo chocolate. Yep! It's a thing!




*To paraphrase Buddy the Elf: "That's a fun word to say."

**Super awesome when Valentino says it; ask him next time you see it. In the meantime, repeat after me: cree-oh-yo.

***You're welcome for the earworm!

****Haven't we all?

Paper leaves of tobacco leaves: Tobacco Sheds, Vanishing Treasures of the Connecticut River Valley

I love books.

Hell, I love them so much, I write books.*

When I moved into Valentino's swanky bachelor pad**, lo those many years ago, I brought with me no less than one zillion books. Then I bought many many bookshelves to hold aforementioned books, thinking I'd have plenty of room.  I filled them.

He asked at one point, "What do you need all those books for?"***

"They're my friends," I said, without thinking about the thousand and thousands of paper leaves filling the books.

Speaking of leaves, (this is all going to come together in a second, so stay with us) this fall, we had a chance to tour a tobacco shed and hear about the drying and aging process.

The tour was part of an event put on by Connecticut Valley Tobacco Museum in conjunction with the lovely Karin Mills Tranghese and Cigar Room II in Agawam, MA.

Tino and tobacco

(Here's the connection we promised!) The other day we received this friend, Tobacco Sheds, Vanishing Treasures of the Connecticut River Valley, in the mail:

Paper leaves of tobacco leaves!
Hey book, could you be any more gorgeous?

This is the book's description (Thanks, amazon.com!):

"In recent years, over one thousand tobacco sheds have disappeared from the Tobacco Valley. This important book systematically catalogues tobacco sheds from Putney, Vermont, to Portland, Connecticut, a span of just over one hundred miles. The photographs capture the beauty of these unique farm buildings and serve as a valuable record for these endangered barns. The text offers the agricultural history of each town, helping to connect sheds to their own unique region of New England. In addition, the book reinforces the need for preserving one of New England s most unusual farm structures.

"Many sheds in the Connecticut River Valley are still used to dry tobacco leaves that will wrap some of the world's most expensive cigars, but, sadly, some are being left to slowly deteriorate over time or are being torn down to make way for development. This book will be treasured by cigar smokers and architectural historians and preservationists alike."

I totally treasure this book. It's filled with gorgeous photographs and well-written text that tells the story behind these tobacco titans scattered across the Connecticut River Valley, both of which are gorgeous in their own right.

In case you're not sure where we're talking about. [source]

One of the book's pages!
And one of the region's tobacco sheds. Gorgeous, no?

 

Can I be honest here? Since we're BFFs and all? I've seen these buildings my whole life as my family road-tripped around New England. "Pretty," I'd think and then my thoughts would move along with the car.**** I honestly had no idea tobacco was not only a New England industry but a necessary and successful one.  In fact, the shed we toured produced the wrapper for a little cigar called Liga Privada, according to owner Steve Jarmoc; ever heard of it? (Hahaha!)

 

Ceiling of tobacco leaves during our tour.

The authors of Tobacco Sheds, Vanishing Treasures of the Connecticut River Valley, an eclectic husband and wife team, have created a visual masterpiece as gorgeous as the sheds themselves.

The Cahills! [source]

 

"Dale Cahill has been a sailor, farmhand, electronic technician, equipment maintenance technician, a life guard, has run an aquatics facility, and is both a father and a grandfather. He has worked at resorts and in factories, favors the outdoors and he loves skiing, mountain biking and photographing beautiful things. He plays mandolin and guitar and owns a ski bar in Vermont.

 

"Darcy Cahill has been a teacher, school counselor, reporter, and sheep dog breeder. She is a mother and grandmother. She plays fiddle and owns a ski bar with her husband. She also spends time writing, gardening, mountain biking, and skiing." [source]            

 

 

 

According to an article in Cigar Aficionado, "The new book Tobacco Sheds, Vanishing Treasures of the Connecticut River Valley, takes the reader on a journey through the Connecticut River Valley and goes behind-the-scenes to show what these majestic barns really are. Authors Dale and Darcy Cahill, who have made these barns their passion for many years now, traveled the length of the 400-mile valley, which touches four U.S. states. More than 1,000 have been lost to time, disrepair and changing fortunes over recent years, but they found sheds remaining in Vermont, Massachusetts and (of course) Connecticut. None remain, they said, in New Hampshire."

Keep an eye out next time you're driving around the Connecticut Valley. They aren't just cool barns off in the distance, as I'd imagined. Well, they kind of are, but they're way more than that. They're SUPER cool barns! And you might even be smoking that shed's wares.

By the way, if you do get a chance to visit a tobacco shed this coming season (and you totally should!), be sure to pick up a nice hat for yourself.

Cabellero #2 and his fab chapeau.

In the meantime, get Tobacco Sheds, Vanishing Treasures of the Connecticut River Valley and enjoy the world around you--or the world your cigar may have come from--while in your cozy, warm house.


*You should buy them all here.

**Read: Beautifully-decorated, huge house

***Obviously, he's not a book person.

****Back in the day when kids' minds wandered during road trips, as opposed to now when they don't even look out the windows because they're watching a video. These kids probably don't even know the joy of fighting with a sibling, unhindered by a seat-belt, during a road trip--or getting a weak slap from a parent on whatever part of your body they can reach as they're driving--or calling "Way back!" so you could sit in the back of the station wagon staring at the drivers behind you and annoying the crap out of said drivers. Annoying two cars of people was a special bonus. Poor kids these days, watching TV during the ride.

Camp Kristoff, Part the First

Not too long ago,* Glen Case (Hi Glen!), the head-honcho of Kristoff Cigars, visited Habanos, one of our favorite hang-outs, a place in our own back yard...

You remember Glen, right? We first met him at Havana Cigar Lounge in West Warwick, RI.

Havana owner Todd LaScola, our hero, and Glen Case.

Well, one night we were shenaniganning** over at Broadway Cigars at a Montecristo event and then later rolled closer to home, into Habanos. And there was Glen Case! It was like we walked into our own back yard and happily found a cool kid from a neighboring neighborhood! Yay!

Unlike the first time we hung around with him, which was an actual Kristoff event, whereby he was required to be an adult in full-adult mode; this time he had the relaxation cranked up to 11.

After we settled in, giving out lots of "hello" kisses, Valentino lit one of these delights, which we'd previously purchased at that Havana event:

The 685 Woodlawn, on the right.
That's the star of this show.

Glen stopped mid-sentence and said, "Where did you get that cigar?"

Valentino took the cigar from his mouth and looked at it, just to remind himself which delicious stick consumed his senses. "At the event in West Warwick," he said, making his way to the bar with Glen and Jarrid Trudeau (Hi Jarrid!), a cool dude in his own right and Kristoff's Northeast rep, to sit with me.

"That's my favorite stick," Glen said. "I don't even have any of those in my humidor at home."

Now if you must know, I have some mad internet skillz.*** So when Glen reiterated the lack of 685s, I hauled out my laptop and began a search.

Pretend I'm currently searching and during the lull, we'll cut away to a montage of information about this cigar:

• The cigar's name comes from the house he grew up in. 685 Woodlawn in the suburbs of Chicago. See? That makes me love it already because you must know by now how much I love a good story. By the way, it's not the family homestead any more, but an ode to your first home? Awesomely cool. (As a side note, Mom and Dad? Don't plan on moving out of that house, especially to move to Florida, as all your peers have. Stay put.)
• A small batch released in April-ish 2013, only 2,000 boxes of 10 were made.
• The wrapper is from Brazil, binder from Nicaragua, and filler from Nicaragua, Dominican Republic, and a super secret place--maybe Oz? Santa's workshop? Brigadoon****? 
• Comes in one size, the 6 1/2 x 60 perfecto--one of our favorite shapes!
• I love love love this cigar. (I seem to have a real fondness for small batches, as if the more I know I can't get it, the more I want it. But that's pretty much the way of life, right?)

Glen and Valentino***** whooping it up.
Actually, they were discussion serious life things
while I challenged the mighty internets to a duel.
I won.

So within moments, I found a few boxes of the 685 available for purchase and gave Glen and Jarrid the info. I guess if I were a really good person, I would have bought him a box, and a box for ourselves...but...no.  Of course I regret this now. Or I did! <--Blatant forshadowing.

That night Valentino smoked his one and only 685, filling my lungs with some serious sweetness with a background of pepper. Kind of like smelling and tasting the fruit pie Nana is making in the house while simultaneously inhaling the heavily-peppered steaks' smoke wafting from the neighbors' grill. If you could get both flavors in your face at the same time--the pepperiness, the fruitiness, and the creamy, buttery crust, you'd be experiencing the 685 Woodlawn.

The night over, we were left with some super fun memories of time with our Kristoff friends and the Kristoff cigars. Now the story should end there, but no, because there's another chapter to the story.

On our way to visit my son in West Virginia for the holidays, we accidentally drove by the most massive of cigar stores, Cigars International in Hamburg, PA. Come on, we were driving right by the exit. And we needed gas anyway...

Just a teeny tiny bit of the gigantean place!
Lousy picture by moi!

One of the first things we saw as we entered the store? (That foreshadowing comes into play now.) We saw this:

Oh my sweet darling...

We scooped these up and asked about more.  The very nice staff lady searched high and low, climbing ladders to look in way high cubbies and giving herself a headrush looking in the store's deep, dark crevices.  And know what? She found another box! That was some amazeballs customer service!  We took them and ran!

This isn't true. I held them close to myself, like a treasured Latin textbook****** and we slowly perused the entire store, twice.

We're heading home from our travels tomorrow and I hope on Tuesday we can do some more research with these, see if they will once again help me relive the long, slow, sunny days of a childhood summer--even if I am a grownup now (boo) and we've just entered a long winter (double boo). I may ask Valentino to bring two.





*Keeping in mind I have real issues with time passing quickly and not recognizing it.

**A real word in Penny World.

***Not nearly as good as my friend Shelagh, who could teach a master class, but still better than the average schmoe.

****One of my all-time favorite plays.

*****This picture is actually from later in the evening, when our hero had moved on to a different Kristoff cigar.

******I'm probably the only one who ever actually treasured a textbook, right? Especially a Latin one? Thought so. Just to let you know, I still have my high school Latin books.

Lookit!! A sea of color in a black and gold world!

So remember back in July how we kept not knowing we were missing the coolest place ever in the Strip District in Pittsburgh PA?

We found it! (Thanks Google maps!)

The Leaf and Bean is one of the most awesomely coolest places ever!! For realz! 

In fact, it's a deliciously smoky island of relaxation in the loud, choppy sea of macaroni and gravy.*

When we strolled in, in full lollygagging mode,** we were hit with many layers of eclecticity.*** I'd try to explain it, but instead, let's refer to Valentino's pictures, shall we?

 

 

And here is Island Jim himself, in his natural habitat!!

See right behind Jim? That's the shop's humidor, which features some of our super favorites, including Leaf by Oscar (of course, because that's Jim's best selling cigar), along with others like our friend Paul Joyal's J Grotto, the ever-awesome Padron, and another new fave, New Workd by AJ Fernandez. 

 

I know what you're thinking: Uhhhh...what about the Island Jim? You know, the proprietor's namesake? Don't you think you should mention that, dear, sweet bloggess?

Well, home skillet, I would mention it, except they're sold out!! So why should I get you all excited for something you can't have? That's just mean!!

But they will be back in house sometime in January, so save your Christmas money. 

 

Here's another treasure of the Leaf and Bean: Melody, Jim's better half. She's a kindred spirit; she doesn't actually smoke  cigars but knows tons and tons about them. But she's super friendly and fun to chat with. 

 

Here's the dealio: I don't actually want to live in Pennsylvania because it's way too far from the ocean. But if IF I found some reason I found myself inhabiting a home with a western PA address, I've already picked out my barber chair in the back, where I could write and write and write. 

 

So come here. It's on The Strip on 22nd street. (I know the mailing address is Penn Ave. Ignore that.) if you're at the intersection of the two streets, looking toward the thousands, no, millions of vendors hawking fruit and Steelers merchandise, go left on 22nd. You're going to come across an island of color. Go towards the color. Go. Now. 

 

 

*For those who don't know, the Italians call sauce "gravy" and pasta "macaroni." Yes, they are weird. 

**Stuffed from the Primanti's sandwich, if you must know. Look how big the darned sandwich is!

***Yes, it is a word.