The best places in the world to smoke a cigar

by Gadling Staff on

Smoking a cigar the correct way demands a critical mix of solitude, contemplation, and most important, awareness of surroundings. All other things become subservient to the act of observing and evaluating. With this game plan in play, the smoker’s post-ignition environs take on as much importance as the flavor, taste, and draw of the tobacco. Here is one man’s list of the top ten places in the world to smoke a cigar.

10. Right before the Ironman Triathlon World Championships in Kona, Hawaii.
Kailua Kona is usually a sleepy tourist town on the western side of the Big Island of Hawaii. But once a year, in late October, the best athletes in the world gather for the Ironman Triathlon World Championship. The 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride, and 26.2 mile marathon takes most competitors most of the day, so the gun goes off at 7 a.m. sharp as upwards of 2,000 swimmers turn “Dig Me” Beach into a feeding-frenzy of arms, legs, and splashes. Light up early, puff and marvel; let your cigar tell the crowd, “I’d rather die young that try something like this.”

9. Seated in the square before the Piazza Duomo in Florence, Italy.
Brunelleschi’s Duomo (1296) in so beautiful, so massive, so spiritual, that a visitor has to sit and puff and wonder: Could this masterwork actually have been created by man? Have a demitasse from one of the square’s little bistros, enjoy the soundtrack provided by the voices of passing Italians, and let your cigar smoke rise up and mix with the angels flying above the Dome.
8. Atop the Smoking Platform in Colchester, Vermont.
In the dooryard of an old farmhouse in northern Vermont stands a twenty foot granite cliff. Atop that cliff sits a chair and a small table holding an ashtray, a pack of wood matches, and bug spray. The owner of the house climbs the cliff once a week to enjoy a solitary smoke. “You’re such a child,” the smoker’s wife tells him, “You’ve built a fort up there, just like a little kid would.” “Rather,” he informs her, “it is a Gentleman’s Smoking Platform.”

7. At the gaming tables in Las Vegas, Nevada.
It might be changing, but the casinos have remained one of the few public places in America where cigar smoking is not only permitted, but encouraged. Try apologizing for your smoke as you lean over the Caribbean Stud table, and the lovely lady at your right might actually tell you she’s been enjoying the aroma. Plus: Cigar smokers always look like winners, even when they’re not.

6. On the French Quarter in New Orleans.
Katrina delivered a near-deadly body blow to the city, but its soul survived and is reinvigorated. Smell the Cajun cooking and listen to the muted jazz lifting up from the street. The still air and pressing humidity combine to make blowing smoke rings as effortless as breathing.

5. At the rail of Saratoga Racetrack, Saratoga, New York.
The oldest continually operating track in the country, and still one of the stateliest. Faux southern belles mix with true-life losers. Dixieland bands and picnic tables. Three bucks to get in. Everyone has a system and everyone has just won big. Continue the tradition started by Red Aurebach of the Boston Celtics-after one of your “wins,” light up a victory cigar to celebrate, and to let the crowd know that you know how to pick ’em.

4. Halfway up Pioneer Peek, outside of Anchorage, Alaska.
The city is closeted by the Chugach Mountains, with so many massive peaks that some don’t even have names. Drive just a few miles up the highway towards Fairbanks, pull off and park, and start hiking/climbing up a peak that maybe nobody has ever climbed before. Before too long eagles will be flying by at eye level; airplanes will actually be lower than you. Sit. Marvel. Ignite.

3. After sundown in the early springtime of Phoenix, Arizona.
How many tourist destinations can list March as one of its best months to visit? The dessert really does cool down after dark. Step out among the Saguaro Cactus and light up. Pretend you’re a daredevil and the flame at the end of your cigar is warding off the coyotes and the rattlers.

2. On the street of Duck Alley, New York (or in whatever town you grew up).
There, you can use the cigar as your time machine, transporting you back to your first smoke, your oldest pal, your first love.

1. In the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge, Brooklyn/Manhattan, New York.
The verdict is in: The Brooklyn Bridge is the most beautiful edifice ever created by man. When the Roeblings, father and son, designed and built the bridge in the 1870’s and 80’s, it was roughly equivalent to someone building a bridge to the moon. The Bridge’s combination of engineering and artistry has never been equaled. Walk the foot path halfway across the East River, sit on a bench and gaze at the cathedral-like towers. Iron cables will cut squares and trapezoids above your head in the sky. Smoke there, and think about what man has wrought. Look over your shoulder at the Twin Towers site only if you want to be reminded that the work of man isn’t always this magnificent.

Jim DeFilippi is a crime novelist and cigar maker living in northern Vermont. His recent novels include The Family Farm and Duck Alley. Read his blog on Red Room.

[Photos: Flickr | alexbrn; Monica Arellano-Ongpin; bobistraveling; valentinapowers]

Bull fed up with fighting – takes the day off, along with 40 injured spectators

by Scott Carmichael on

Warning: graphic video

Whoa.That is about all I can say after watching this clip. Halfway through his bullfight, this bull decided enough was enough, and jumped out of the ring, injuring 40 spectators.

The first few rows of spectators were lucky, but once the bull climbed higher, you’ll see that quite a few others did not share their luck. The bull was captured with the help of an experienced bull fighter, and killed.

Of the 40 injured spectators, one was gored in the back, one suffered a crushed vertebrae, and one ten year old boy remains in intensive care after the bull fell on him. The incident took place at the Tafalla Arena in Spain, in the same region popular for its yearly Running of the Bulls.

The East Highland Way: hiking Scotland’s newest trail

by Sean McLachlan on


I’m in Ft. William on the west coast of Scotland, the starting point for many popular long-distance hikes, including Scotland’s newest trail–the East Highland Way. Over the next six days I’ll be walking 76 miles past lochs, mountains, historic sites, and remote countryside. The hike is so new there isn’t even a guidebook yet, but Kevin Langan, who established the route and is writing a guidebook, kindly sent me some maps. The trail is unmarked, so these maps and a compass will be vital to be making it to Aviemore in the Central Highlands.

I wake up to a beautiful view of Loch Linnhe outside my window. The view is all that’s beautiful. It’s pouring rain, my legs hurt from climbing Ben Nevis yesterday, and I have a persistent cough courtesy of my four-year-old son that makes me hack up great gobbets of phlegm every time I say “loch”. A perfect morning to start trekking across Scotland!

Because of the scarcity of accommodation in this part of Scotland, the days aren’t of even distance. My first stop, the village of Spean Bridge, is only nine miles from Ft. William. Make that eleven since I’m staying west of town, but even so it’s an easy first day. This gives me a chance to walk out my fatigue from climbing the UK’s tallest mountain and gives me time to explore historic Ft. William.

There’s always been settlement along the shores of this loch that opens into the North Atlantic, but the city owes its prominence to the fort that gives it its name. Fort William was an English base to keep the Scots in line. There’s now a movement by some nationalists in town to change the name to something more Scottish! Not much of the original fort survives, and for more information I head to the West Highland Museum. What strikes me about this museum is the focus on the rebellions against the English. While these are a major part of Scottish history and still affect today’s politics, the coverage seems almost obsessive. Weapons and paintings of Bonnie Prince Charlie are everywhere. My own clan, Clan MacLachlan, took part in the rebellions, and what I know of Scottish history is centered around the various Lost Causes my ancestors supported. Not talking about the Scottish rebellions while in the Highlands would be like not talking about the Civil War while traveling through the American South. As I continue on my hike I’ll see places where my ancestors marched and fought, and learn more about their role in Scottish history.

I dawdle in the museum talking to the curator and hoping the rain will ease up, but it only gets worse, so I stop delaying and head on out. The town is unremarkable beyond the beautiful views of the loch. The main street has been given over to tourism and the rest of the town looks a bit run down. At the edge of town is Inverlochy Castle, pictured above. This imposing castle was built in the 13th century to guard the River Lochy and the western edge of the Great Glen, the easiest transit route to the northeast. It’s built in a basic, solid manner with a moat, a square plan, and giant towers at each corner. This isn’t some elegant Renaissance chateau castle, but a practical fortification meant to take plenty of abuse. It was the base of power for the Comyn family as they asserted their influence over much of medieval Scotland. Two battles were fought at this site and almost 800 years later much of the stonework still looks solid.

%Gallery-99692%The route east from the castle is an easy but not particularly attractive one. Like the first day of the Hadrian’s Wall Path and other popular paths, much time is spent getting out of populated areas. The route follows just south of a railway and highway on a dirt trail through managed forest. Logging is big business up here and orderly rows of trees are grown to be cut down and replaced with the next generation. Not exactly primeval woodland, but it does keep the sight of cars from my eyes.

The weather clears, then clouds up and rains, then clears again. This is typical Scottish weather–“four seasons in one day” as the saying goes. Before long I’m in Spean Bridge, a village on the River Spean. I decide the weather and my legs are in good enough shape to take a popular three-mile scenic loop trail near town. It’s the prettiest land I’ve seen all day, mostly unfarmed with wild trees and a real feel of untamed nature. It leads to the mossy ruins of High Bridge, scene of the first battle of the Jacobite uprising of 1745.

Bonnie Prince Charlie had recently landed in Scotland and was gathering the Highlanders to march on England to overthrow the Hanoverian monarchy in favor of his own Stuart line. Clan MacLachlan was quick to join up. If I had been alive at that time I doubt I’d have been enthusiastic about overthrowing one monarch only to be ruled by another, but nobody went against the wishes of their clan chief. While we were still sharpening our swords up north, a dozen men from Clan MacDonald hid at one end of this bridge awaiting a force of 85 English soldiers sent to reinforce Ft. William. On August 16th (my birthday) 1745, the redcoats tried to cross. The MacDonalds shouted at the tops of their lungs, leaping from bush to bush on the steep slope of the opposite bank and firing their muskets. The redcoats thought they were outnumbered and ran.

My ancestors did get to help out in the next battle, at Prestonpans on September 21 (my son’s birthday). On that misty morning, an English army of 2,300 men was virtually wiped out by a fierce Highland charge. This was my ancestors’ sole tactic. A mass of men would charge at the enemy. Once in musket range they’d fire their muskets (if they had them), then charge again into pistol range, fire their pistols (if they had them) and throw them at the enemy. Then they charged into the enemy lines with a shield and dirk in one hand and a sword in the other. The sheer momentum of the howling, slashing, hacking Highlanders was enough to break the English lines. It was a good start to an ill-fated campaign.

The trail continues up a steep bare hill that provides me with a grand view of the rough Highland terrain I will tackle tomorrow. At the summit is a memorial to the British commandos of World War Two. They trained here, not to overthrow one king in favor of another, but to overthrow a mad dictator bent on world domination. Never in history has the line between right and wrong been so clear cut. Nearby is a sobering garden where people leave photos of loved ones who fought and died in that war and in Iraq and Afghanistan. All my achievements pale in comparison.

Tomorrow: The East Highland Way Day Two: Into the Highlands!

Adventure travel market grows to $89 billion

by Kraig Becker on

According to a new study commissioned by the Adventure Travel Trade Association (ATTA), Xola Consulting, and George Washington University, adventure travelers spent more than $89 billion on tourism in 2009, demonstrating the strength of the adventure market in the travel industry. That number doesn’t include the money that those travelers also spent on airfare, nor new gear.

The study questioned 850 travelers from North and South America, as well as Europe. More than 70% of all international travel originates in those locations with the highest number of travelers coming from the United States, Argentina, Brazil, the United Kingdom, Germany, and Spain. Researchers hoped to get a better understanding of the adventure tourism market, which they defined as travel, either international or domestic, that included physical activity, nature-based options, and cultural experiences, in hopes of getting a grasp on this fast growing industry.

While the full study won’t be published until later this fall, some of the findings have already been made public. For instance, the ATTA says that the typical adventure traveler is 36 years old and spends between $450 and $800 per vacation, excluding their airfare. They are also more likely to hold a passport, and are generally more educated and affluent than the “typical” traveler.

They also don’t seem to mind spending money on their travels, as in addition to the $89 billion spent on the trips themselves, adventure travelers spent an additional $53 billion on related gear, apparel, and accessories. That brings the total market value for adventure travel to $142 billion in 2009. In comparison, the cruise line world market share is estimated to have a value of about $27 billion.

As you can imagine, many travel companies are scrambling to get a piece of the pie, with more exotic treks and cultural excursions to far flung places being planned all the time. Adventure travel clearly isn’t a niche market any longer, and what was once the purview of dare devils and thrill seeker, is becoming all the more appealing to mainstream travelers too.

A taste of California history: Santa Maria Style barbecue

by Laurel Miller on

Hey, Southerners. I love you, but the barbecue trail doesn’t really end at the Texas border. California has its own tradition, and it can be found in the heart of the Central Coast wine region. As a native Californian, I throw down the gauntlet in the temple of meat. Our beef barbecue doesn’t hide beneath sauce; it stands proudly on its own, adorned only by its residual juices. That takes balls. And speaking of balls, I should add that our barbecue historically comes with a side dish that, well…just keep reading.

Since the 1850’s, Santa Maria Style Barbecue has been a rancho celebration or post-cattle branding staple. After the Mexican-American War, when Mexico ceded California to the United States, Spanish and Mexican colonists and soldiers (“Californios”), established ranchos along California’s rich, central coastal grasslands.

Their heritage merged to form a true California cuisine, one that incorporated the corn, tomatoes, beans, and peppers of the New World with the beef, lamb, and olive oil of the Old World. The parilla, or grill, became the province of the vaqueros (cowboys) and rancheros (landowners). The mild, Mediterranean climate fostered a tradition of outdoor cooking still beloved by Californians today. Barbecues became a way to get down and party with one’s family and neighbors, to mark special occasions, and to partake of the culinary offerings that reminded these early settlers of their homelands.

[Photo credit: Flickr user yaelbeeri]

Only top sirloin or tri-tip steak can be used for Santa Maria Style Barbecue (depending upon where you do your research, it’s variously called Santa Maria bbq, Santa Maria Barbecue, etc.: I defer to the Santa Maria Chamber of Commerce version). Tri-tip is named for the small, triangular muscle off the bottom sirloin, from which it’s cut. It’s a fairly juicy piece of meat, with a bit of chew to it; it can be difficult to find outside of California.

The meat is seasoned only with salt, pepper, and garlic salt, and hung on steel rods, before being grilled over native red oak (originally, the meat was cooked in a pit). The accompaniments include tiny, pink, native pinquito beans, salsa cruda, and tossed green salad. The meat is served thinly sliced, with plenty of toasted, buttered, sweet French bread to sop up the juices.

I grew up eating Santa Maria barbecue because I come from a horse ranching family. We frequently attended rodeos and spring cattle gatherings, the successful completion of which are celebrated with a big barbecue. I recall watching the California equivalent of pit masters firing up massive grills fashioned out of halved oil drums, then rigging the hunks of meat on their skewers.

Years later, when my brother was attending college in San Luis Obispo, he would bring slabs of tri-tip home whenever he visited us. My favorite part were the salty, juicy, crusty bits of fat shaved from the grilled meat. My dad, himself a former wrangler, would present them to us on the tip of a knife, in between sneaking pieces for himself (I’m pretty sure this behavior had absolutely nothing to do with his colon cancer diagnosis 18 years ago). For days afterward, my mom would add tri-tip sandwiches to my lunch bag- a welcome respite from warm, soggy PB & J’s.

My first experience with an authentic California rancho barbecue occurred when I was ten. A former vet school classmate of my dad’s invited us up to his cattle ranch outside of Santa Maria, to participate in the spring cattle gathering. We spent a cold, dirty, exhausting weekend riding over rolling green hills, rounding up the cattle to be vaccinated, castrated, and branded.

Work done, it was time to party. The old oil drums were heaped with red oak, and as is the tradition with brandings, the calf “fries,” or testicles, were grilled up as an hors d’oeuvre. The charred, crispy little morsels, still tender and juicy on the inside, were then laid on a flour tortilla, slathered with salsa, and rolled up, taquito-style. At that stage of my life, pizza was a culinary adventure, so eating greasy “prarie oysters” wasn’t an option.

But when my dad smilingly presented me with a testicle taco, how could I refuse? To say no would be to disappoint the man who had given me life, to fail the cowboy brotherhood. I wouldn’t be one of the guys. I had to prove I had cojones of my own! I grabbed the dripping tortilla and bit down…chewed…swallowed. It was good: smoky, salty, a little chewy, the tortilla a perfect foil for the savory juices dribbling down my chin.

Yep. Tastes just like chicken.

Santa Maria Style Barbecue can be found in and around the towns of Santa Maria and San Luis Obispo, usually on weekends, at local charity events. If you’re jonesing for a taste of true California on a weekday, you can stop by or The Hitching Post in Casmalia, which is still considered tops in ‘cue. You can also call the Santa Maria Chamber of Commerce at (800) 331-3779, to see what’s smoking around town during your visit.

Black Knight Barbecue Sauce

My dad discovered this recipe in a magazine insert in the early ’70’s called “Chuckwagon Cooking from Marlboro Country.” He always served it with grilled tri-tip if we had guests from out of town so he could show off his adopted state’s cowboy and culinary heritage.

Makes approximately 2 ½ cups

1 cup strong black coffee
1 1/2 cups Worcestershire sauce
1 cups ketchup
1/2 cup unsalted butter
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
2 T. sugar
1 T. salt
2 t. cayenne pepper

Combine ingredients in a medium saucepan and simmer for 30 minutes over low heat, stirring occasionally. Adjust seasonings to taste before serving.

[Photo credits: Los Osos, Flickr user goingslo; Branding, Flickr user marty 11; “Prairie Oysters,” Flickr user ffunyman]