We’ve all been told from a very early age that breaking the law can get you in trouble. Get caught stealing from a store and you will be arrested. Punch someone in the face in the street and you will be put away. Sell pot near a school and you’ll be fitted for a nice new pair of handcuffs. Handing a note to a bank teller while wearing a rubber mask will sound the alarm for sure. Bring a machine gun onto the bus and people will rat on you. Hurl a brick at a policeman and you will be severely punished. Walk into church playing hackey sack in the nude and just see what happens. (Damn, the last time I tried that, Sister Mary Margaret reached out and confiscated the wrong ball.)

But guess what my fine brothers of the grand leafiness… Smoke a cigar in Denville, New Jersey and yes, you will be imprisoned.

WTF you talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?

Like so many other small town USA’s, Denville, NJ has adopted strict smoking laws in outdoor areas – you know outdoors – where are there billions of square feet of open air for smoke to dissipate, including hundreds of miles straight up. You know, where garbage trucks, busses, and cars emit carbon dioxide and pump other toxic waste into the air we breathe by the mega-gallon. Get caught smoking on public side walks, parks, play grounds, parking lots, yada, yada yada, and first time offenders will receive a fine of a $100 or up to two days of community service. Now… second-time offenders could face a $250 fine or five days of picking up garbage along side county inmates in their flaming orange jumpsuits. But get caught a third time? You ready for this one, people? The new ordinance passed in a 7-0 town council meeting states that a third time smoking offense in public can garner you ten days of community do-gooderness, and for real – I’m not kidding here… A trip to the slammer! That’s right, you will be arrested, place in cuffs, put into a squad car, taken downtown, get booked and thrown into jail… for smoking.

Hellooooooooo… people of Denville… Stalin is calling and he wants his hammer and sickle back.

What I find terribly disconcerting is that a town council in local suburbia has wielded the power of incarcerating a person for an act that is and always has been legal. I repeat, it is not an illegal act to enjoy a cigar in public, yet this group of self-righteous demi-gods has deemed it a crime who’s punishment is the same as the acts I stated in the first paragraph. (And if you ask me, it was that damned nun who was totally out of line. Hey, I was emotionally scared and it’s hard to let this one go.)

I’m at a loss here and I’m sure it is the same for you too, that the politico climate in this country is producing such outrageous acts of socialist and communist extremism. I know I sound like a broken record, but damn people, this isn’t really about smoking… it is about the stripping away of our freedoms in a country where men laid down their lives for the pursuit of this freedom. I just spent a week in Williamsburg, Virginia and learned a great deal about the people who fought tyranny and repressive laws in order to enjoy the fruits of life. Patrick Henry had the stones to stand up and say, “Give me liberty or give me death,” and the guy meant it, no questions asked. Now, while I won’t stand and say, “Give me cigars or give me death,” I will continue to make a public stink about these draconian laws instituted by incredibly small minds.

A couple of years ago it started with the town of Belmont, California, who deemed it illegal to smoke in public. One of the councilmen, a local-yocal, small time, business goon actually said something to the effect of, “Can you imagine the lives that could be saved with this law?” I just completely lost it when I read his comments. YOU?… You want to save ME from MYSELF? Holy tobacco beetles, Batman, the world has tipped on its axis and the shit is running downstream at an alarming rate.

So what’s the answer? I say total raging anarchy, tea party times ten. We have to make noise and we have to get ugly. Unfortunately, it will probably take a group of us dumb-asses to go to alert the media, visit Denville three days in a row, stoke up our stogies and get tossed into the can. Although I’m not keen on having a record, it does seem like something that would get noticed, don’t you think? Say, who’s with me? Who are the men and who are the mice in this bunch?! To the parapets men, we have not yet begun to fight! (yeah, so I borrowed that one… it’s not like the dude is going to sue me.)

Okay, I know I’m babbling on, here, but this is serious, because as always, the logical question to ask is… WHAT’S NEXT? What will they tax next? What will they take away next? A lot of people read this blog and a lot of us can make some noise. We ARE sick and tired of this and we’re NOT going to take it anymore? Right comrades? Oops, socialist slip.

Til Next Time, My Brothers,

Tommy Z.

JR Cigars Blog With the Zman

Did the Clark W. Griswold thing this past week and took the family on the yearly vacation jaunt. This time it was Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia, home to Busch Gardens Amusement Park and a place rich in American Revolutionary War history. Lots to do in this sweltering heat pit, with daily heat indexes of around 107 and humidity you could slice with a minuteman’s bayonet.

Like a good dad, I pre-planned the trip to a tee, mapping out the attractions, the tours, the restaurants, and the directions. But most importantly of all, I strategically researched perhaps the key spot to make any vacation the very best it can possibly be – the local cigar shop and lounge.

Yeah, I had it planned perfectly – drop the kiddies and the wife off at the park, then head straight for a smoke at the nearest stogie shop. How do I get away with this after a nine-hour car trip, you say? Well, I’ll let you in on a secret… I HATE RIDES. I have ALWAYS hated amusement park rides from the time I was five when my dad stuck me on that goddamned roller coaster all by myself as I screamed in terror for what seemed like an eternity. If it were today, I would have called child services on my parents within an instant. But yeah, I have a true disdain for scary carts on metal wheels that hang you inverted over the pavement two miles in the air, then send you spiraling to what seems like certain death. Okay, I mean I’ll do a few rides like the spinning teacups and the kiddie boats where you can blow the horn, but unfortunately that stuff is always in the opposite side of the park from where my death-defying teenagers want to be.

Now the family knows quite well that I’ll not only stay away from the terror-laden so-called fun stuff, but I’ll also bitch about it the whole time while I sit as the family waits on some godforsaken two hour line. Oh, I’ll bitch and I’ll bitch, and I’ll bitch, bitch, bitch until they tell me – I mean order me to stay away from the park. “Go dad… go back to the hotel pool and we’ll see you later!” the family shouts out as I put on the sad face as if I’m going to miss everyone terribly. Yeah, miss them, my ass, as I crank up the pre-programmed gps and head straight for the closest smokatorium.

I always love finding a new cigar shop in virgin territory. Makes me kind of feel like the Jamestown settlers from 1607, except I’m not being attacked by Indians or starving to death (I mean really, have you seen me?) The sights and smells of a newly found walk-in humidor raises the consciousness level to great heights, while perusing the cornucopia of premium sticks is certainly the cigar smokers equivalent of highly erotic foreplay. Sure I’m a weirdo, but you know exactly what the hell I’m talking about.

So I pick out several staogs that I normally can’t find in my area, along with several that are just ridiculously cheaper because of the lower state taxes on tobacco in Virginia. I feel like I’ve made the ultimate score as the cashier rings up my bounty of cigarry goodness. Once I’ve harvested my selections I head to the small lounge of leather thrones as the locals are tossing the bull and trading their manly-esque banter.

“Hey guys, mind if I join in?” I ask, knowing that my Jersey accent is a certain request awaiting for my Joe Pesci, Goodfellas diatribe.

After exchanging pleasantries, the boys dive right in with their thoughts on politics, sports, women, gun control, food, yada, yada, yada. The great thing about cigar lounge prattle is that no one is there for the purpose of problem solving or saving the world, but instead, it’s just a gathering of guys who revel in the fine art of camaraderie.

After a couple hours and two really great smokes, it’s time to go pick up the loved ones at the park so we can go to bed and get ready for the week’s events at Colonial Williamsburg…like more cigar smoking and bullshitting with the locals. It’s a long and weary journey, but somebody has to make the selfless sacrifice.

Man, I just love vacation, don’t you?

Tommy Z.

JR CIGARS Blog With the Zman

I am telling you that there is nothing in this world that makes a long car trip go by fast than when you light up a good stogie. Bringing your favorite smoke along for the ride is like having a best pal in the car – one who doesn’t say a word, give you any flack, and just does his thing – and THAT is a beautiful thing.

I took a little trip this weekend to a friend’s house just southwest of Philadelphia, and thank God I had my happy sticks along for the trek. It’s supposed to take two and a half hours to get there, but torrential rains the entire way turned it into a four-hour marathon.  Yeah it was dismal, traffic was hellish and accidents were to the left and right of me, but nothing could go wrong as long as my premium hand-rolled buddies made everything just a whole lot better.

What a psycho pig I was as I toked three on the way there and two on the way home, but like I said, when the smoke is swirling from a “car-gar” everything on the roadways seem just right. I started out in the late morning with a Romeo Y Julieta Reserva Real – a golden wrapped beautiful with nice flavor that accompanied my coffee quite nicely. Unfortunately the coffee produced a rather moving experience as I took an early rest stop at a crowded Exxon in western Jersey. Whew… you guys know damned well what I’m talking about. No need to spell it out.

It’s never too early for a second smoke, and the Frank Llaenza 1961 Double Magnum was simply magnificent as the rain pounded my windshield, but it didn’t matter on bit. That dark, rich, luscious ’61 and I were having some quality time, and a little atmospheric pressure was not going to disturb a good run. God dayum that is a fantastic smoke if you haven’t tried it yet. And if you have, then you sure as hell know what I’m talking about. Of course the stomach started grumbling so I cleared my palate with an egg sandwich and immediately started debating on the next cigar to keep my taste buds occupied. With the palate already bombarded with a myriad of textures and tastes, I needed something with some serious heft and body to cut thru the rubble, and the uber dark, rich and oily Omar Ortez did just the trick, Man, that cigar is full bodied up the ying yang and by the time it was done, I was parked in front of my pal’s abode. Sweet.

There’s a lot of great things about cigar smoking, but the companionship and camaraderie a rolled up stick of smoldering aged leaf can bring is sometimes it’s own little Master Card moment. When you’re golfing, fishing, barbecuing, or partaking in any other manly ritual, the cigar is something that just makes the moment a whole lot better. So today we salute the Car Gar – a gift from the great tobacco gods to make your trip a happy happy, joy joyful time.

Smoke cuz ya gottem, Gents.

Tommy Z,

JR Cigars Blog With the Zman

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Speaking of Cars & Cigars…

The next JR Classic Car Night will be held on Friday, August 13th in Whippany, NJ from 6 – 10 pm! Come eat, smoke and be merry as you oogle these amazing works of art!

The REAL Politico Agenda

On October 2^nd, 2008, in only my second blog ever here at JR, I wrote the following words…

“Career politicians are scum. They are liars, thieves, scoundrels, and whores. There isn’t a one of them that doesn’t have three sixes branded on the back of their necks. They suck up to special interest groups like the anti-tobacco lobby and do not care about lumping cigars in with cigarettes. It is time to put an end to career political stoogery. It’s time the people were heard.”

My feelings haven’t changed any since then – well, actually, my contempt for these jackass’s has grown even stronger if anything. Something is fundamentally wrong with these people – ethically, morally, and spiritually and for the life of me, I can’t understand what motivates these dirtbags to go into this line of work. Okay, money, power, fame, prestige, yada, yada, yada. I get that. But why put your cojones on public display like that? Do they really think they are going to change the way things run in the political system? Do they really think they’re going to make things better for the people? And lastly, do they really believe that imposing more and more taxes upon the American citizens is the way we will crawl out of this economic sink-hole?

Meet David Paterson, friends. If you don’t know him, he’s the governor of New York State and he’s as blind as a goddamned bat. Now, I’m not referring to his eyesight, but yes, the man is legally blind. I was referring to his classic politico tax and spend lunacy that he has thrust upon Albany ever since his ex wing-eared, bald boss, Eliot Spitzer got caught with his hands in the nookie jar. Patterson proposed a tax for New York state on all soda, juice, and candy products – anything with sugar. Of course the lobbies for these industries went ballistic and Patterson took a verbal beatdown for his blatant idiocy. But now dumbass Dave needs a “fix New York quick solution”, so the state has passed a tobacco tax increase that will raise the all ready horribly high tax rate from 46% to a smothering 75%. And to make matters worse, this clown initially proposed a 90% increase.

Now I don’t smoke cigarettes and I don’t care for them, but a pack in New York is going to be around $12. But what I do care for are cigars, and the increase to 75% is going to put a hurt on the state’s retailers like nothing they have ever felt before. Let’s put it this way…. You Mr. cigar lover can sit in front of your computer, press a few keys, and purchase a $150 box of your favorite stoagies for – yes $150. But come August 1^st, walk into a tobacco store in New York State and try to purchase a $150 box of cigars and the cost will be $262.50. So, I ask the ridiculous question… where would you choose to buy your precious smokes? While it doesn’t take a rocket surgeon to figure this out, it seems that New York’s clueless leader doesn’t understand simple economics. It’s very easy to digest dopey Dave… people will either log onto the internet or purchase their premium handrolled cigars out of state. When this happens, the State of New York will not collect the tax revenues that you thought it would. And to make things infinitely worse, cigar & tobacco retailers in New York will see a massive decline in sales, forcing many or most out of business. You will destroy small business across the state and not make up for the state’s deficit in the least. You will hurt New York. Mr. Patterson, and for the rest of you boneheaded legislators of the Empire State, I ask you… if everyone else can see this to be the truth, why the hell can’t you?

Ah, and now for the REAL truth…

The answer… because politicians WANT to eradicate smoking all together. THAT ladies and germs is the real agenda. You heard it from Tommy Z. These politico jackals pander heavily for votes and to the anti-smoking lobby, and they know quite well that raising taxes to the point where no one will be able to afford to purchase tobacco products is what gets them elected. There is no doubt in my mind that THIS is the method to their sickening madness as we just pull down our trousers, bend over the closest desk or chair and take it firmly in the place it hurts the most (Sans lubricant, of course.).

And may I just note… isn’t it funny that that most of these fat cat politico bastids smoke cigars? WTF…right? Uh-huh.

So, what’s the answer? Well, preventing this, years before it happened was the real answer, but the cigar industry waited WAY TOO long and then reacted in a panic when Pelosi and the Hildbeast got the SCHIP bill in place. I think the only real thing left to do is to scream aloud, take to the streets and create complete and utter anarchy. Guys, if you think this stops at tobacco, YOU’RE WRONG. Our freedoms are being stripped away at an alarming pace and the only real question we can ask is… WHAT’S NEXT? Soda, red meat, liquor… when tobacco is eradicated the government will go after the next thing then the next, then the next. This isn’t about cigars, people, it’s about the preservation of our society – a society that is being gagged and bound by the unholy agenda of the political correct.

In closing, one day after Independence Day, I challenge YOU to grow a pair and make some real noise. Oh… okay… so you shake your head and say that you think it won’t help? Then fine… turn around, drop ‘em and take it like a man, bro. Personally, I’d rather go out kicking and screaming with my dignity in tact, clutching to the rights that our forefathers fought and died for.

Give these bastards bloody f@#king hell.

Tommy Z.

JR CIGARS Blog With the Zman

Testosterone is a wonderful thing, don’t you think? Flexing our “guyness” is something we need to do from time to time as we go through the daily grind of working, taxes, and paying bills. Camaraderie amongst other members of the male species and grunting like the apes that we are is a crucial part in the preservation of our collective psyche. Okay, thankfully we’re not gonna fling our crap at one another – I mean, evolution has brought us to a slightly higher standard – but we will congregate and do all the stereotypical things that men do when brought together in a most manly environment.

So here we go…

Take hundreds and hundreds of manly men and put them around huge barbecue pits – burgers, dogs, sausage and chicken searing over the hot coals as the air is filled with the smoke of charring animal flesh. Now tell the guys that they can have all the icy cold beer that they can wash down their eager gullets. Then give them a bag completely chock full of premium hand rolled cigars and let them know they can smoke in public to their hearts delight. Maybe bring in a couple of spectacular Playboy playmates to fraternize with for several hours. Oh yeah, motorcycles – toss a bunch of custom hogs into the mix because a man needs to be surrounded by outrageously crafted machines. Now tell the guys that they can gamble… let’s see, how about horse racing? Yeah, that’s cool right?

So let me get this all straight…

We gather several hundred guys, feed them barbecued meat, give them ample amounts of golden nectar, load them up with fine cigars, toss in a couple of centerfold gals & custom bikes, then let these boys roam the grounds like crazed primates, throwing their money down on highly trained athletic equines. Sounds like the ultimate fantasy that every upright walking male creature would kill to be a part of, right? Well, there’s no need to whack anybody to experience this kind of hedonistic day of decadence, all you needed to do was attend Meadowlands Madness that took place this past Friday night in northern New Jersey.

Don’t you remember a few weeks ago I wrote about this amazing upcoming event and I said that I don’t care where you live, it would be worth the trip to partake in the festivities? Well I was right, and if you didn’t show, well all I can say is that  there’s always next year. I could also say that you blew it big time, but don’t worry bro, I won’t rub that in your face.

You know, I’ve been associated with the good peeps at JR Cigars for quite a while now and the one thing that’s for sure is that everything they do is centered on giving the customer the best smoking experience possible. And I can tell you that without a shadow of a doubt, the Meadowlands Madness event was as fun and awesome as any cigar shindig you’ll ever attend. Everyone was in a great mood, stuffing their faces, guzzling their favorite swill, and toking the hand rolled beauties that came in everyone’s $230 value goodie bag. Can it possibly get any better? Yeah it can.

I was asked by the JR staff to pose in the winner’s circle photo after the fifth race and award the winner a trophy. So I’m standing at the finish line and here comes my two horses, one and two for the exacta paying $100! Wahoo baby! So as I’m posing with the driver and the owner, the PA announcer says, “And awarding the trophy to the winner is the Zman from JR Cigars!” Then I look at the tote board and the it says ZMAN in gigantic letters! What a friggin pisser. Thanks a ton to my good buddy, Steve Nathan! You rock, my brother.

So if you didn’t get to attend, well, hopefully we’ll do another and you’ll wise up and get your lame-ass carcass to the Meadowlands Racetrack in East Rutherford, New Jersey. Until then, this is the your gluttonous and hedonistic purveyor of manly goodness, signing off.

Tommy Z.

JR Cigars Blog with the Zman

It’s June 21^st – the longest day of the year. It means lots of daylight ‘til around 9pm, as well as the fact that half the year is almost over. How the hell is that even possible?

Well, as we all know, yesterday was the one day a year where we are officially noted as king’s of our proverbial castles, rulers of the family unit, and masters of all out manliness. It was Father’s Day, the one day where I don’t get yelled at for eating like a pig and laying around like a fat-ass, cigar sucking  sloth.

Father’s day is actually pretty special for me for a few reasons. My kids spend time with me and go out of their way to make me feel special and my wife doesn’t get on my ass for a whole 24 hours – it’s an amazing relief! I cook up a kick-ass dinner on the grill, I actually get a nap in during the day, and I have my parents over, which I’m so grateful that they’re still around.

I really did have an outstanding Father’s Day this year and it really is nice to be recognized for something that is mostly taken for granted by everyone. Even in a day and time when woman hold high positions and work every bit as hard as we do, the man still has a pressure on him that has been passed on from generation to generation, and society still looks to us to be the “rock” of the family, the bread winner, the man in charge. And with that being said, I think having a day that gives us just a little bit of credence for who we are and what we do is really kind of nice, extremely refreshing, and definitely well needed.

Okay, I’m incredibly fortunate that my dad is breathing and healthy and still enjoys his family and life in general. He and mom came over yesterday for New York Strip steaks charred up medium rare on the grill, Ceaser salad, toasted garlic bread, and icy cold Belgian Ale. Afterwards we headed to the back patio for hearty JR Ultimate maduros and a lot of strolling down the path of memory lane. I lit the torches as the sun sunk behind the oak trees as time just magically stood still for an hour or so.

I’ve always felt that I’m kind of fortunate that I have both a girl and a boy. It’s nice having experienced the best of both worlds as a dad. While I’ve enjoyed travel hockey and baseball with my son, I learned a whole new world that existed called dance, swimming, and girl scouts. Yeah, I was out of my element, but I did the good dad thing and was always there for the youngins. One day when I’m elderly and crusty with a fresh steaming loaf planted firmly in my Depends, I’ll never feel bad about my dadness because I was always there and was always an important part of my kids lives. And I’m SO HAPPY to say that my father can most certainly feel the same way.

So it’s Monday and back to the grind for so many of us, but I really feel like my mental and spiritual batteries were re-charged by the one day a year that is known as Father’s Day. And I say to my loving wife that it’s okay, you now have 364 days to yell at your lazy-ass man-pig sloth. Love you too, honey.

Enjoy the heat my peeps,

Tommy Z.

JR CIGARS BLOG with the Zman

The good people here at JR are always doing the coolest things, like in-store appearances from cigar masters and Playboy bunnies, the upcoming Meadowlands Madness horse racing barbeque (coming in ten days, June 24) and the incredibly popular JR Classic Cars and Bike nights. Well it was the hogs that were out in full-force this past Friday, as bikers and their roaring machines showed up in droves at the JR Cigars store in Whippany, NJ.

The camaraderie was unparalleled and I don’t think you’ll ever meet a nicer crowd of people anywhere. They come from all over the northeast, filling the parking lot with their two-wheeled pride and joys (and some three wheelers, too.) Motorcycles of every make, model and size line the pavement as a live rock band plays and the hotdogs and burgers char on the open grill. And of course, the luscious scent of burning premium tobacco wafts gently through the early evening air. Guys. It just doesn’t get any more festive than this.

It was a gorgeous late spring, blue-sky evening as a venerable smorgasbord of metal and chrome continued to file in. Some of the most insane custom build’s garnered the ooo’s and ah’s from the onlookers as the appreciation for ingenuity, art, and craftsmanship was mutual amongst the crowd. And I personally was just blown away by the work and detail that goes into some of these spectacular rides.

The diversity and mix of people is a thing of beauty, as dudes from every walk of life show off their wares to the attendees. Sure, there are your longhaired leather clad bas-asses who live this everyday, but there are also a good number of corporate types and weekend warriors who let their wild-sides come out to play at a gathering such as this. And of course, the biker chicks are there as well, donning the leather mini’s and tight tops with some occasional low-hanging fruit to give the boys something other to look at. I’m telling you, these people are great and if the event went until eight o’clock the next morning, almost every one of them would still be there, drinking coffee, and telling tales of their treks across the U.S. countryside.

I personally don’t ride, but my mid-life crisis side has really yearned to for the past ten years or so. There’s something very primal about a motorcycle that causes a man to grunt like and ape, longing for a ride with his buddies. The open air and open road, nothing but you and the girthy machine beneath you – I totally get it. In a sense it’s that feeling when you’re cigar smoking outside, just you and your happy stick and nothing else in the world matters at that time and place. Plus I’m big on camaraderie and motorcycle riding has got to be the ultimate in testosterone production. So when you come to JR Bike night and match the biking experience with premium hand-rolled cigars, there is literally nothing that can surpass the feeling of smoking your favorite stoag along with a V-Twin rumbling between your thighs.

Here’s the link for remaining 2010 bike & car shows at JR in Whippany, NJ…

http://www.jrwhippany.com/index.cfm?page=events_bikecarshow_2010

• All shows 6-10pm
• Grillin’ and Chillin’ outside until 8pm cooking up burgers and dogs
• Beer Specials in the bar and lounge
• Free to spectators and car/bike owners

Ride with the wind and the smoke, my brothers.

Tommy Z.

JR CIGAR BLOG with the Zman

Want to know why I like cows so much? Because they’re made of steak. I LOVE steak and I think all REAL men are carnivores to the max. Now grilled steak brings it up a bunch of notches… rib eye, NY strip, porterhouse, t-bone… yeah baby, now we’re talking. Or, you could choose to crank it up a level and do what I did yesterday.

I wanted to make my 19 year-old daughter, Nicole’s birthday special, so I took a trip to Costco and picked up a three-pound package of filet mignon. That’s one hell of a lotta meat – four humongous steaks that were just begging to hook up with Mr. Weber in my back yard. Actually, my whole family is a bunch of red-meat noshing savages, so spending the extra dough for a great meal was a no-brainer. Now I wasn’t quite done shopping as there was a recipe I always wanted to try – bacon wrapped filet mignon. We all know that EVERYTHING tastes better with bacon and why not take something kick-ass and turn it up a whole bunch of notches… right? Yep.

On the way home, while my wife was discussing side dishes, I started thinking about the delicious cigar I would choose for my post meal smoke, along with the libation of choice. Whoa… steak, booze and cigars… what will they think of next? Damn, the whole thing is a right of passage that every card -carrying Man’s Man needs to partake in, all for the sake of pumping up the testosterone levels for maximum performance (I told the misses she’d better be ready for a post dinner romp. Yeah, I can get all Neanderthal like that.)

So we get home and it’s time to prepare the kill. The steaks were so fat & huge that I cut them in half for 8 pieces, then wrapped one thick slice of bacon around all sides of each one. As for seasoning, the Food Network chefs always use minimal spices on better cuts of meat to allow the real flavors to come through. So on each side I tossed on some garlic powder, salt and pepper – that’s it… then gave it a spritz of olive oil cooking spray so it wouldn’t stick. I torqued up the grill to 500 degrees and when those bad boys hit the red-hot grates, the symphonic rapture of searing red carcass was music to my Polack ears. I knew the bacon could burn like a mother, so I only cooked each side on the direct flame for a couple of minutes, then turned off the middle burner, cooking them the rest of the way on indirect heat (about 15 to 20 minutes more) until they were a perfect medium rare.

I don’t know if I’ve made a better grilled steak in my life as the family devoured the charred bovine flesh. The meat was so juicy and tender and the bacon was crispy and smokey – a combination that satisfied the steak-a-saurus in all of us. Hard to believe that we were so stuffed to the gills that one piece of heaven was left – a piece that accompanied my eggs over easy this morning, as the gorge-fest continued.

Now I ask you, what kind of man would ingest such a fine meal without the indulgence of a rich, full-bodied, hand-rolled happy stick created in a Spanish speaking land? The choice was easy… a Punch Grand Cru #2 Maduro (1998) I had purchased from the JR luxury line of opulent smokes that don’t cost a whole lot! I paired it with a coffee and a Taylor 20 year-old tawny port. Holy crap my peeps, if that ain’t livin’ large, I don’t know what the hell else can top it!

Okay, okay, it WAS my little girl’s birthday and she made out damned nice. We sang and ate cake and I felt like a beached whale. But once the stuffed-ness resided, I reminded the wife I still had some manly duties to perform. Hey, you know what they say about testosterone – Use it or lose it!

Have a fantastic week all my pals & fans,

Tommy Z.

JR CIGAR Blog With the Zman

On April 6, 2004, in an ambush firefight in Ramadi, Iraq, JT Wroblewski, Second Lieutenant, United States Marine Corps, lost his life while attempting to save the lives of his troops he served with. JT, the 25 year-old son of John and Shawn, was the first Marine from the state of New Jersey to make the ultimate sacrifice during the Iraq war.

I have written about JT over the past several years in my Memorial Day Blog. His parents live one street over from me, in the house JT grew up in, here in northwestern New Jersey. While the neighbors are opening their pools, attending parades, planting flowers, and getting the ribs and burgers ready for the grill, my neighbor John experiences this day with a heavy heart, as does anyone who lost a family member to the hideous reality of war.

Today is the day that we in the United States have dedicated to every man and woman of our nation who has given up the ultimate sacrifice. For years I’ve always wondered how a somber day like today became associated with swimming pools, hotdogs and hamburgers. But one day I came to realize that the reason our brave soldiers go to war is so we, Joe Everyday Citizens CAN enjoy a life of freedom to do and live as we please. Our men and women who continue to fight in the sand and that oppressive heat grew up on back yard barbecues and family gatherings, and now THEY have made the conscious choice to defend the country that has given them the freedom so many of us take for granted. They are well aware of the daily risks they take and of the daunting reality that they too may become a casualty, one who is forever remembered on this last day of May. But that doesn’t stop a single one of them from serving all of us back here on Main Street, USA.

I grew up as a young boy during the Vietnam War, and remember the nightly news reports speaking of the casualties as just facts and figures. Troops were being sent home in body bags and the anti-war sentiment was mounting. I was a pre-teen, but I still have vivid memories of the events of the day. My dad was in the Korean War and his uncles fought in World War 2.

But I felt that I just had to mention that the people of today’s armed forces are all volunteers. Not a one of them has been forced to defend our land, and to me, that takes a certain kind of guts and heart. Now don’t think for even a second that I am minimizing the so many who were drafted and fought – those men answered the call and with bravery gave what was asked of them – some WAY beyond what was asked. But I have a special place in my heart for today’s soldier who knows quite well of the inherent dangers of roadside explosives and the suicide bombers who believe they are sent to heaven for taking the lives of anyone unfortunate enough to be in their path. Today’s enlisted men are fighting an enemy that has no fear of death and believes he’ll be rewarded with a bounty of giggling virgins. That’s a very dangerous enemy, one our country has never fought the likes of before. To volunteer for that kind of duty is a type of bravery and dedication I will never know.

So with a huge open heart I say thank you to everyone serving in our military, and to everyone who has served in the past. No, I really mean it – this is not just some kind of heartfelt bullshit one writes in a Memorial Day piece. I thank you all so much for keeping it possible for my wife and kids to enjoy our home and family gatherings for years to come. I hear so many of you say it’s just your job, but you can’t fool us. My job has me relegated to sucking on tobacco sticks and writing about it. Your job, is making sure that I can continue to do so, and from the very depths of my soul, you have my eternal gratitude.

So, today I will grill my three racks of baby backs, light up several of my best cigars, imbibe a whole lot… and feel safe. I simply cannot even begin to thank the men and women of the United States military enough. I know I speak for ALL the readers of this Blog that we support you all and wish you a safe tour and a happy ride home. And to JT, rest peacefully, buddy.

Humbly Yours,

Tommy Z.

JR CIGARS BLOG With the Zman

As you know, I generally like to keep things happy and light-hearted on this happening little bloggy I create for your reading pleasure. Cigars are what we all have in common, and sometimes I yak about my favorite stogies and sometimes it’s about the trials and tribulations we all go through in life. But today, I’m particularly dismayed at what’s going on in the Gulf of Mexico as an ecological disaster of catastrophic proportions looms in the Cajun seas.

Unless you just crawled out from under a rock the size of Rosie O’donnell’s lunch box, British Petroleum has an oil-rig in the waters south of the Louisiana coastline and it won’t stop spewing thick, black toxic crude oil into the water … for 35 days. That’s right, thirty-five days have gone by since the disaster began and BP has done jack-shit to stop it. Oh, yeah they’ve tried, blah, blah, blah, meanwhile the slick is growing by the mile and finally the coastline is in massive danger – and after that, the Florida and Texas coastlines and all sea life and water fowl in general.

How the living hell does something like this actually happen. And maybe a better question is: Why can’t they stop it?

Louisiana Governor, Bobby Jindal is in Defcon 5 freak mode, and who can blame the guy. He’s ordering sandbag walls to be built along the entire coast of his state and I think if he meets up with any BP executives, there’s gonna be a good old Cajun ass-kickin’ the likes of the world has never seen.

I listened to an exec from BP on several morning shows today and when asked what his confidence is that they will have this under control, on a one thru ten scale, his answer was a six or a seven. Holy oil covered pelicans – that is NOT the answer the world wanted/needed to hear. If this slick spreads as predicted, a great number of industries will be decimated to the tune of billions of dollars. Fishing, shrimping, vacation and tourism will be the harrowing victims of this gaping sludge monster. And who knows how long the poisons effects will wreak havoc on an ecosystem spanning a possible thousands of miles wide.

Another thing Governor Jindal is pissed at is: Where the hell is help from President Obama? We’re talking 35 days man. What the hell is talking so damned long to act? Our government needs to be way up British Petroleum’s bum and taking heads along the way. How could more than a month go by without any type of reasonable solution?

Now people are asking why there wasn’t some sort of emergency disaster plan put in place in case a meltdown like this were to ever occur? BP isn’t giving any answers and the worst-case scenario is that they don’t have any to give.

Like I said, this isn’t my usual type of piece here on the blog, but the trickle down effect of this event will effect all of us greatly and sometimes you just have to shake your noggin in massive disbelief at the grotesque and careless stupidity that resides in this world we cohabitate in.

Okay  we’re all terribly pissed off and the ramifications are staggering. If there isn’t anything you can directly do to help, I say light up your favorite cigar, try to relax and thank your maker for everything you have. I still say that it’s a damned good world we live in – when others don’t f@#k it up for us.

Peace, out.

Tommy Z.

JR CIGARS BLOG with the Zman