I’d have to say that this is my first blog written at 35,000 feet above the Caribbean Sea. Traveling via private jet would even spoil a hog and you can definitely consider this pig spoiled (no, not soiled, although I just might be if I keep drinking out of the toiletin the middle of the night.)

We’re headed towards San Pedro Sula, Honduras and I have been one busy lil’ Polack. Sitting across from me on this eight seat, Hawker 800 XL flying machine are what you could consider baseball’s equivalent of Mickey Mantle and Juan Marichal. To my left is JR chief, Lew Rothman and to my right is General Cigar’s el presidente, the honorable, Daniel Nunez. From the minute I showed up at the airport, Lew has been breaking my robustos about the gargantuan steamer trunk I brought for my clothes. I’m admittedly worse than a woman with over packing and had to get a smaller bag in the DR and ship my Polish Cargo Trunk back to Jersey. And when we landed in West Palm for refueling to the DR, Lew told me they all took a vote for me to shut the f@#k up. So, I’m excited like a five year old with a new Hess truck. This is old hat to these guys and I’m like a puppy who’s jumping up and down to take a pissin the backyard. Someone please remove the “L” from my forehead.

A day and a half in Santiago gave me a crash course in the General Cigars way of life. I toured two cigar factories, their plantation farm in Mao, and their box manufacturing facility. The Dominican people are all wonderful with warm smiles, but there’s also those “Who’s the porky gringo?” looks I kept getting as well. I’ve been given the royal treatment and have seen basically every aspect of the business, up close and personal. I’ll be writing an article for Cigar Magazine on my excursion so I can’t get into too much detail here, lest my editor gives me the Zarzecki beatdown I so richly deserve.

I’d have to say the main takeaway from the DR trip is this: When people think about cigar making they generally envision the torcedor behind his table with trusty chaveta in hand. But the cigar roller is maybe one percent of the entire operation. There are so many steps to the manufacturing process of cigars that it boggles the mind.

General employs over four thousand hard working people in the DR and I was fortunate enough to watch many of them from several feet away applying their trade. The dedication, skill, and massive patience it takes to work in this industry is unparalleled. Row after row of tobacco sorters, devainers, bunchers and rollers filled huge rooms as the heavy smell of tobacco laces the air. They took me into a couple of the fermenting rooms and the stench of ammonia knocked me flat on my culo. THAT was wicked.

The managers gave me free reign to pluck freshly rolled gars right off the tables and I pilfered some beauties including a few of my fave Cohbia XV Figurados - nice and oily just how I like ‘em. One of the biggest surprises was how much respect I gained from the machine made operation. You can’t believe the skill and craftsmanship it takes to make smaller smokes. The plantation, nestled in a valley between huge mountains, was like going back to 1930 as the curing barns baked in the sun with banana trees swaying in the background. The barns can hold up to 15,000 pounds of tobacco each, where the leaf hangs to dry 45 feet up to the rooftop. The following morning I toured the box making facility and watched every step of wood being sorted, cut, nailed, painted, and polished. The boxes are works of art, especially for the Stratovarius and the Decades.

Daniel Nunez is the consummate gentleman and treats everyone with the kind of dignity and respect that many in the U.S. have long forgotten about. His management team boasts 26 MBA’s and I’m not surprised by the efficiency that prevails. Modesta Fondeur is second in command and is a woman who has earned tremendous respect throughout the cigar world for her knowledge and passion of this honorable industry.

The one thing these people are known for is their hospitality and the home cooked lunches and amazing dinners probably packed on a pound or ten. I’ve never tasted fruit like this, so fresh and exploding with flavor. And you haven’t lived until you’ve has freshly squeezed Dominican mango juice. I’ve never tasted anything like it. Knock on Spanish Cedar, but I haven’t got the runs and the ice cold Presidente beer has kept me happy and hydrated.

Dinner followed by cigars and great conversation will be a listing memory for me. My humongous suitcase, constant chatter, and voracious appetite gave Lew enough fodder for Zman jokes through the next decade. I think he really loves me and I just keep telling myself that over and over.

As you can imagine, the trip is quite the adventure and I’ve smoked more cigars in a couple of days than I do all winter. Awwww, poor, poor Zman. Tomorrow I’ll give the lowdown on Honduras.

Til Tomorrow,

Tommy Z.
JR Blog With the Zman