Sutliff Private Stock- Metropolitain Review

The Parisian nightlife, as I’ve experienced it, is a whirlwind of antiquated jazz clubs, neo-futurist dance clubs, and amphetamine and absinthe fueled excess. This runs contrary to Paris in the daytime, a bright, airy, winding place of classical architecture and delicate food.

It is this unique dark/light quality that makes Paris the ultimate Metropolis, the true headquarters of the world.

This is the place that I hoped Sutliff’s Metropolitain would capture, but instead I got something worse, like going down Broadway in New York in the 1970’s, past all the marquees and the glitz and the lights and, eventually, hitting all the sex shops and the pushers and the pimps. It’s sweet at first, but decays into something very sour.

This aromatic blend is made up of Virginia, burley, and black cavendish tobaccos. The tin note was a bit bitter, but had some subtle scents. I detected rum and, possibly, vanilla. Promising, right? Oh, how naive I was.

As I lit a nice, even bowl of this blend, I was greeted with a sharp tang of alcohol, followed by some rich tobacco. I actually quite enjoyed that aspect. The flavor was nice, but only for a while.

After a few moments I began to taste this horrible, chemical taste, like I’d just drank a tall, cool glass of Chernobyl dishwater. I actually had to stop and drink some green tea to get the taste out of my mouth. It was dreadful. I don’t know if this is a problem with every tin of this blend, or if it was some sort of processing error, but it stopped me from smoking it ever again.

It’s a shame, because Sutliff makes great product and I normally enjoy everything they release. I’d like to think that this was some sort of factory error, but even if it was, Sutliff needs to make every tin the best tin. My standards are too high to think anything less.


One thought on “Sutliff Private Stock- Metropolitain Review

  1. “After a few moments I began to taste this horrible, chemical taste, like I’d just drank a tall, cool glass of Chernobyl dishwater.”

    As unappealing as this sounds, your descriptor made me smile. I reckon they all can’t be home runs, eh?


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