Review by The Katman on

February 7, 2017

Fable Cigars Fourth Prime Mi | Cigar Reviews by the Katman

Wrapper: Pennsylvania Broadleaf
Binder: Ecuadorian Habano Ligero
Filler: Nicaraguan, Dominican
Size: 5.75 x 46 Gran Corona
Strength: Medium/Full
Price: $9.00

Today we take a look at the Fable Cigars Fourth Prime Mi.

Factory: Fabrica de Tabacos Nica Sueño S.A. (Same factory that produces RoMa Craft Tobac’s cigars)
Release Date: January, 2016
Regular Production
Each size is available in Singles, 7 count packs, 28-count bundles and 56 count boxes.
There is all kind of info about the story behind this brand but as they were released a year ago, so there is no shortage of reviews with all the information you would ever want. I see no need to repeat it.

Doc (Petit Robusto) 4.5 x 52 $8.50
Mersenne (Robusto Extra) 5.25 x 56 $9.50
Mi (Gran Corona) 5.75 x 46 $9.00
Sapta (Gran Toro) 6.25 x 54 $10.00
I found the cigars at Serious Cigars but that’s it. There is a list of B&M’s on the Fourth Cigars web site.

A nice box press…with a wrapper the color of rust/cinnamon/ coffee. Seams are exposed….not many veins. A nicely applied triple cap. And there is a fine grit of toothiness.
The stick feels consistently filled so as not to present hard or soft spots.

From the shaft, I can smell semi-sweet dark chocolate, floral notes, spiciness, strong malts, cedar, caramel, and espresso.

From the clipped cap and the foot, I can smell that same dark chocolate, big malts, red hot pepper, cedar, caramel, floral notes, new leather, lemon zest, and espresso.

The cold draw presents flavors of red pepper, chocolate, coffee, malts, caramel, lemon citrus, cedar, and new leather.

Great draw. And then a blast of red pepper that singes my tongue and lips. Nice.
This little cigar fills the room with smoke.

Flavors begin to roll in: Chocolate, salted nuts, creaminess, both lemon and orange citrus…actually, it is more tangerine than the former citrus fruits, heavy malt components, espresso, cedar, caramel, and a green veggie element.

Strength starts the party by becoming medium/full right out of the gate.

Janis is on my classic rock channel. A short anecdote about this when I can find the right spot for it.

Flavors settled down just as quickly as they blossomed at the beginning. Big bang and then a short squat.

I’m having serious burn issues…like I have with most box pressed sticks. It just can’t be me all the time…most of it has to do with construction.
The Fable Cigars Fourth Prime Mi perks up. Why there was a sudden lull…I have no idea. But it seems to be on an earnest path now.

Creaminess is big. The malts can be defined now: Cara Vienna, Chocolate Rye malt, Coffee malt, Mile Ale malt, and Special B malt. (See malt chart)
.Nice to see that variety of malts so early on.

I get a strong liquor flavor that matches perfectly with Peated malt.

The sweetness increases two fold. Raisins and prunes enter and plotz on my palate.
This is my first Fable cigar. I like it. I know I’m late to the party but better late than never.
The spiciness divides into red and black pepper.

Transitions begin. The start of a complexity is nice.
I seem to constantly be battling the char line.
Smoky brisket shows up out of nowhere. There are flavors of cumin and cardamom.

Pink Floyd’s “Have a Cigar” is playing…clearly, it’s a sign from the gods.

I was into the first week of rehearsal with the Brit band. We rehearsed in the vegetable market section of London called Covent Garden. Nice rehearsal halls. The band knew this music inside out. I was the new guy. So this was mostly for my benefit. As I’m sitting and playing, Sonja is sitting on a bench when in walks this guy with a large bass case. He and Sonja talk for a bit and then he takes out his huge Fender Telecaster bass and begins to re-string it. I freak. Am I being replaced already?

After the song, I’m introduced to the guy. He was the bassist for Janis Joplin & the Holding Company. He wasn’t there to remove me from office…just an old friend of Sonja’s who was in the area and wanted to say hello.

Creaminess, chocolate, malts, and sweetness are perfectly matched. The Fable Cigars Fourth Prime Mi hits sweet spot status.
The finish is very long.
I’m very impressed with the first third.

Smoke time is 25 minutes.

We now have deep complexity. Beautiful transitions at play. A lip smacking finish. Strength is approaching full.

I think the right choices were made for sizes for this blend. Not crazy about the Gran Toro but the others seem to be on the money for squeezing every bit of flavor from this blend.
I feel that the Corona Gorda is the perfect size for just that…imparting of intense flavors and character.
But that goddam errant char line is driving me nuts.

Meanwhile, the Fable Cigars Fourth Prime Mi finds no other criticisms from me. An incredible mixture of flavors and maturity. The flavor profile is exactly what my palate adores.
As I only had one of these sticks, I’m hesitant to be too hard on the construction that is causing burn issues. I’m going to let it slide.

The full strength possesses the smoothest pedal to the metal of any cigar smoked in quite a while.
The Fable Cigars Fourth Prime Mi is one giant sweet spot but I don’t consider it a flavor bomb because of the near perfect balance of flavor v. depth of character.

No added flavors at this point but it doesn’t need more than what it currently possesses.
Nothing is removed and nothing is added.

Once again, I wish I had the opportunity to smoke this blend in 2016 as it would have made my top 25 list.

I’m going to try and dissect the flavors in order of importance: Creaminess, spicy pepper, chocolate, malts, dried fruit, caramel, citrus, smoky meat, cedar, espresso, and salted nuts.

The halfway point is upon me. Smoke time is 40 minutes.

There is another flavor surge. Prior to this point, flavors were in the pocket. Perfect balance and smooth.
The Fable Cigars Fourth Prime Mi has reached a new plane of existence. Flavors really pop now.
OK. Now it’s a flavor bomb.

Yesterday’s review of the Diesel Heart of Darkness was a miserable task. What a joy it is to review a spectacular blend after that.
The very spicy element hasn’t let up an iota. It is pushing hard and achieving its goal of keeping my sinuses wide open while tears run down my cheek.

Smoke time is 55 minutes.

I don’t want to jinx it but as strong as this blend is…no nicotine.

The Fable Cigars Fourth Prime Mi has an addictive quality. I could smoke these all day long and never tire.
The burn line is a complete wreck now. I have to touch it up or it won’t make it to the end in one piece.

Side note: Living in the Midwest can turn you towards the dark side. Back in California, we put on a sweater if the temp dipped to 65°.
After living here since 2005, we’ve slowly adjusted to the frigid cold. It is only 32° and feels warm to me. A gentle rain is in production. Windows are wide open. Beats the shit out of below zero weather.

Serious Cigars has all sizes in stock. I realize that this is supposed to be regular production cigar but I’m guessing its popularity has cleared the shelves of other online stores.

I’m duly impressed. A great way to start my day. Without equivocation, I can make the statement that the Fable Cigars Fourth Prime Mi is a spectacular blend.
You should not deny yourself.
Final smoke time is one hour 15 minutes.


And now for something completely different…

I dredged this anecdote out of retirement. It was the very first story I ever added to the end of a cigar review and remains one of my favorite; about the great Eddie Munster Debacle. It occurred on my first web host called Open Salon…about 7 or 8 years ago. I switched to WordPress because OS just didn’t allow the opportunities I needed. Now all those reviews are gone.

The Eddie (Butch Patrick) Munster Chronicles…Continued:

The Waldorf Astoria charged $18 for a burger and fries in 1983.
Butch and I ordered one burger extravaganza each. The voice on the other end of the phone said it would take approximately 45 minutes. OK. This would surely be a feast. My God. We were in the famous Waldorf Astoria. I expected a feast to satisfy Louis XIIII.

Butch headed straight for the courtesy fridge with the ridiculously expensive treats. Items that I was not about to pop for, regardless of how much pot we had smoked.

An hour later, no food. I called room service and I was assured that it was on its way.

I had to pry Butch off of the fridge. I had a brilliant idea. A little toot of coke would assuage our appetites until the Waldorf could manage to deliver the sumptuous feast to the peasants. I went over to my suitcase where the drugs were stored for the trip. I removed a small brown colored gram bottle containing the white death.

Payola was still in force in the radio industry. Pay to play. Either money or drugs or go fish. It was out in the open. No one even appeared to hide it. They all had their hands out. I spent thousands in cash payments. I spent thousands in handing out the very hip 80’s drug of cocaine. Everyone in the music industry was a heartbeat away from overdosing on the stuff.

The dilemma: Where do we find a smooth surface to lay the drug out in neat little lines? Butch looked at the wall over the massive dresser. He stood up, walked over to the wall, and removed an enormous mirror. I mean enormous! This piece of art was at least 36” x 60” with an ornate frame making it even bigger.

Slipping and sliding, he waddled over to the bed and lay it down. It took up the entire double bed. Yes, Rocshire Records actually popped for double rooms.

I placed the bottle on the mirror and got up to get my wallet. Within the wallet would be our means to snort the white death; a $20 bill to be rolled into the shape of a tube. When I came back to the bed, Butch had already dumped the entire contents of the bottle on to the surface of the mirror.

A gram, back then, was worth about $100. An entire gram was too much for a little appetite suppressant. This was essentially a heart attack dose.

I had a good friend that was an ex-con. He made his living dealing. And he got stuff that was as close to pure as anything I had ever tried. Rick liked me a lot because I wasn’t one of the many coke whores that surrounded his business. I turned down his constant offers for toots and he just couldn’t fathom it. The rest of his clientele never turned down anything. He found in me a friend not dependent on his drug supply.

This was a man, who once you were friends, was loyal to a fault. He had a big heart. And his prison stint had to do with illegal gambling. He was not a violent man. But he was a huge man. I wouldn’t want him mad at me or to confront me. He actually went on to become part of my Eddie Munster creative team. He was very inventive. Always had good ideas. I lost contact with him in the late 1980’s. I hope he is well. I think about him now and then and worry.

Back to the Waldorf….
I went first, doing a very small amount of coke….maybe a quarter of an inch. Instant wake up and “What hunger?” As Butch leaned over the mirror, there was a knock at the door. Both of our heads jerked up and stared at the portal and then back at each other.

The food!

Obviously, we could not allow the waiter to see the mirror on the bed and the illegal substance atop. I yelled to Butch, “Get rid of it!”

Butch grabbed the mirror, and just like a scene from the Three Stooges, ran towards the open door to the adjacent suite and slammed into it. The dolt was holding the mirror sideways.
The mirror held sideways, in his hands, overlapped the door by at least two feet on either side.

Rebounding from the jolt, he turned the mirror the other way. But the oversized frame would not allow him through. And he couldn’t turn it on its side or all the coke would hit the floor.

The knock at the door was louder and sounded impatient. I yelled that I’d be right there. “Hang on!”

Butch threw the mirror back on the bed. Yes! That’s right. Scoop it up and shove it back in the bottle.
Not Butch.
He grabbed the rolled up bill and proceeded to inhale the entire gram of coke up his nose.
My jaw dropped.

The paramedics would be called. Survival was not an option.

As I waited for him to drop in a heap, twitching and convulsing, the door knock came, for what seemed, one last time. I pulled the comforter over the mirror and opened the door. The food was wheeled in by a disgruntled employee.

Word was out that a pair of Hollywood types wearing T-Shirts was in the prestigious hotel. And no one liked it one bit.

I signed for the food and the waiter left.

Butch’s eyes had no irises left, only pupil. He couldn’t blink. “Still hungry, Butch?”
There was no reply. He had lock jaw.
I was hungry and he did not seem near death…for the moment.

They forgot to deliver one of the burger and fries orders. I shook my head. We waited an hour and a quarter and they fucked up the order.

I called downstairs and bitched at them. Profuse apologies spewed forth. Yeah, sure. The Californians didn’t get their complete meal of burgers and fries. I’m sure the kitchen was in an uproar.
I was assured that the balance of our meal was on its way.

I cut the burger in half with a butter knife, nearly destroying it.
Expecting a beautiful piece of meat piled high with condiments and veggies, I was extremely disappointed at the fare. It looked like a fast food burger.

It felt like we were at some greasy diner in Arkansas. The plate was pitiful. But food was food.
Amazingly, Butch wanted to eat. The natural appetite suppressant of the drug did not seem to cause Butch’s desire to feed his face wane. So we shared a crappy burger.

An hour later, the second burger and fries arrived. A big smile on the waiter’s face with an outstretched hand urging a big tip…as he proclaimed that feeling badly, the kitchen threw in some extra fries! I shoved him out the door without a tip.

Life at the Waldorf was not cherries and cream.
The “Today” show was waiting for us in the morning.

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