Any night bassist Christian McBride isn’t out on a gig, chances are he’s high above the Manhattan streets in his Upper East Side 32nd floor apartment watching ESPN and stinking up the joint with that unmistakable scent of manhood: cigar smoke.
It would be perfect if McBride, a proud Philadelphia son, kept his humidor lined with Phillies Blunts, but he’s an aficionado with puffing peers eager to judge him by the smokes he stocks-and McBride stocks the good stuff. “I just smoked this Nat Sherman Hobart,” he says. “Oh man, it was incredible. They have this sweet cocoa tinge, so you have this sweet aftertaste after you smoke it.” McBride loves that aftertaste. “I went to the Nat Sherman place about a week ago. I bought five of ’em. I almost killed myself smoking all those Nat Shermans in one day. I smoked two at one time, and I think I smoked a third one later that night.”