When I pluck a Toro fresh from the center of new batch and slide the cellophane off, the red-white-and-blue cigar band beams like a beacon for bargain-seekers across the free world...
The second I step near the Old Henry aisle in the Holt’s warehouse, my antenna for mouthwateringly cheap cigars shoots into the air like a shotgun shell chasing a fat mallard...
Most of the smokes in my paltry budget fall somewhere in the spectrum of yard ‘gars or utility bundles, so imagine my delight to procure authentic Cuba Aliados Vintage...
