La Flor Dominicana La Volcada | Cigar Reviews by the Katman

Wrapper: Mexican San Andrés
Binder: Ecuadorian Corojo
Filler: Dominican La Canela
Size: 7 x 48 Churchill
Strength: Medium/Full
Price: $12.00

Today we take a look at the La Flor Dominicana La Volcada.
I picked up a couple sticks from my local B&M, Havana Cigar and Lounge. Hey Tyler.

Photo courtesy of Cigar Aficionado:

Released: Dec. 6, 2017
From Cigar Aficionado:
“Litto Gomez, co-owner of La Flor Dominicana, was born in Spain but grew up in Uruguay, where many argue that the tango was invented (although proud Argentines may disagree). While the debate about the dance’s origins may never be settled, the “dance of love” remains one of Uruguay’s most popular cultural exports.

“To honor this fact, Gomez has created La Volcada, a new brand named after one of the tango’s most popular steps. The name comes from the Spanish verb volcar, which translates roughly to “tip over.” During the volcada tango move, the leader causes the follower to lean forward, allowing the follower to swing her leg around in a beautiful arc.

“La Volcada will debut in only one size, a 7 inch by 48 ring gauge Churchill covered in a dark, San Andrés wrapper with a neat coiled cap. The filler was all grown on Gomez’s farm in La Canela, Dominican Republic, while the binder is Ecuadoran Corojo. Each cigar will carry a suggested retail price of $12.

“According to Tony Gomez, Litto’s son, La Volcada will be a regular-production cigar “depending on how things turn out with the FDA.” It will come packaged in boxes of 20 and wears a black, red and white band that features a silhouette of a tango dancer performing the volcada move. (The silhouette bears a resemblance to the bullfighter found on the band of the La Flor Dominicana Andalusian Bull, Cigar Aficionado’s reigning Cigar of the Year.)”

Like most LFD cigars, this one follows suit by being a sturdy, well-made stick. Upon closer examination, one can see that the stick is not perfectly round and has a bona fide tree stick appearance. Lumpy and bumpy. But with a gorgeous rust colored, mottled, apricot wrapper.

There are various hard and soft spots. My first cigar required a thorough reaming with my PerfecDraw cigar poker. If I hadn’t been able to use it, I might have had to chuck it as the plugs were numerous and impenetrable by normal means.

There is a load of tooth on the wrapper. Like #5 grit sandpaper. The wrapper is very rustic with an overflow of ugly veins. Yet seams are tight and unobtrusive. The cigar band shows a dancing couple doing the nasty but as it is hard to see, I’ve made arrangements.
And the cigar is finished off with a nicely applied coiled pig tail.

From the shaft, I can smell dark cocoa, barnyard, dried tart apricot, Wheaties, gingerbread, tangerine citrus, cedar, malt, pepper, and espresso.

From the clipped cap and the foot, I can smell dark chocolate, both red and black peppers, malt, cedar, malt, dried fruit, espresso, chocolate covered cherries, and heavy citrus.

The cold draw presents flavors of cinnamon, nutmeg, black pepper, barnyard, malt, cream, cocoa, ginger snaps, and coffee.

The draw is spot on; no need to rape it with a cigar poker. Just wondering….if I insert the poker in via the cap, is that missionary position? And if I plunge the poker in through the foot, is that anal? Things like this keep me up at night.

Like most LFD blends, the cigar starts strong with a might strength that will not relent. Plus it possesses a dump truck worth of black pepper. In many ways, I’ve found that a lot of techniques used to make an LFD an LFD remind me of the AJ Fernandez line of Man O’ War blends. Similar heaviness with a lot of black pepper.

The La Flor Dominicana La Volcada will need to jump through a few hoops before it convinces me it’s worth $12.

Flavors begin to sort themselves out: Chocolate, creaminess, malt, cedar, cinnamon, macchiato, tart dried fruit, citrus, ginger, walnuts, stewed fruit, and a massive assault of black pepper.
Clearly, most inspired smokers prefer Nic blends over DR and Honduras and so forth. The Nicaraguan soil has something that gives its blends a real kick in the ass. But this is not a Nic puro. It is a multi-country blend that tastes like a Nic puro.

Not much complexity. Transitions are minimal. And the finish is unimpressive. My first stick did not find its golden ticket til the second half. I’m guessing today’s cigar will be no different so it’s a matter of patience to get through the first half without despair.

I believe I found only 5 reviews of this cigar. All the big guys. And they pretty much agreed with each other. Ratings went from 88-92. And many described the same flavors. I’m in agreement with not only the flavor profile described by others but also the slow roll it’s on; getting nowhere fast.

Just as I write this last paragraph, the cigar…naturally, takes off. In a less self-deprecating world, I’d erase the previous paragraph to make me look smarter…but then we all know I’m not that bright. And what’s the fun reading my reviews if you don’t see me step on my own dick a few times?

I’m actually appearing to have a better experience than some other reviewers who never got past the earth, wind, and leather flavors. Plus the overload of black pepper.

I’m on the fence about LFD blends. There have been some great blends; like the 1994, La Nox, Double Claro, and the Coronado. I thought the Andalusian Bull was a rip-off.

Complexity arrives in stages. Transitions begin separation from the mother ship. The finish improves.
Cinnamon makes a quantum jump in conjunction with other sweet treats such as ginger cookies, chocolate covered cherries, candied lemon zest, clotted sweet cream, and stewed fruit.
Now for the savory side: Wood smoked, nutty, malts, black coffee, dry red wine, with a mild meaty zap to the palate.

I forget that I consider LFD blends as Old School. I’ve never enjoyed one that didn’t get months of humidor time. No such thing as an LFD blend that is ready to go in 3 weeks. But still, Litto Gomez does such a nice job that he provides hints of the blend’s potential even in early stages of the cigar’s natural aging process.

Very creamy and chocolaty. I can’t decide if it’s hot cocoa or a chocolate malted. With vanilla showing up, it could also be a chocolate ice cream float. What I wouldn’t give for a nice NY egg cream. Which uses no eggs or cream. Just seltzer and chocolate syrup.

Strength is medium/full.

Smoke time is 35 minutes.

Salty pretzel. A variety of malts. Red pepper enters and gives the black pepper a run for its money.
If I was blind taste testing this LFD blend, I’d swear I’m smoking a Man O’ War Ruination. Which is considerably cheaper.
There is also a nice touch of the AJ Puro Authentico ruminating around this blend.
The La Flor Dominicana La Volcada is a nice cigar…not earth shaking; but goes down nicely.
Strength is full.

Just when I thought that other reviewers had no sense of humor, fools me when I read one description of this blend: “…salty bread, wet leaves, and some hard candy exterior.” That doesn’t sound very good. And exactly how do you know what wet leaves tastes like? Or earth for that matter? Eat a lot of dirt do you, dear reader? I stopped chewing on charred oak by the time I was 37. And I no longer chew on my leather belts any longer since I started stealing my grandson’s pacifiers.

Another pet peeve is the “magical system of scoring cigars” avowed by many reviewers. I don’t care how complex the system is, it requires only subjectivity. It is impossible to be objective as a human still is required to “choose” the scores. I like my system perfectly….Experience.

The halfway point is here after one hour.
The La Flor Dominicana La Volcada is smoother now. That dearth-like heaviness has lifted for the most part. Still full strength but not as overpowering at this point.
Complexity comes and goes. Same for the transitions. Nice finish though.

“You Can’t Always Get What You Want” by the Stones is playing. 1969. My lord, it’s been nearly 50 years.

There are moments of pure cigar bliss that are fleeting and frustrating. Did I and the rest of the reviewers all smoke the cigar too soon? Is a couple months not enough time? This is not a stellar blend which explains its absence from everyday cigar smoker’s jargon. To be honest, I don’t remember if I had heard of the La Volcada before I saw it at my cigar shop.

Is inconsistency a factor of humidor time or is it lack of focus by the blender?

This blend was released in just one size. I’m thinking a smaller version might have been better. 7” of cigar is a long haul. I see this cigar as possibly a vampire killer in the 5.5 x 46 size. Big cigars just don’t have the intensity that smaller sticks have. Look at most Cuban blenders…they smoke nothing but coronas or other such smaller sticks.

This ridiculous trend towards monster sized cigars is a disservice to the consumer. I can count on one hand the number of Gordos I’ve smoked that had the intense flavor profile of a smaller cigar

Smoke time is one hour 30 minutes.

Instead of being bold, the La Flor Dominicana La Volcada is more on the flaccid side. I’m being teased by great moments of potential and then it disappears.
If you told me this was a $7 stick, I’d nod in agreement. And maybe on auction, it will come down to this price. But $12? I don’t think so.
So many brands rely on their branding to push through blends that are overpriced. And some witless smokers buy into it. Every blend has to be dealt with on an individual basis.

I’m always amused by all the background information a manufacturer will provide going deep into the reasons for the blend and how it got its name. Who cares? Do I really give a shit that Gomez likes to tango? I like jerking off while the cat watches. I don’t have a cigar blend on the market with a cigar band showing my cat holding his paws over his eyes. That would be a perfect Katman logo.

The bottom line is that there is barely any growth to this blend. There are no striations in its development. It keeps burning without any surprises or expectations by the time you get to the end of the cigar.

Flavors aren’t bad…just not in my face. I’m sure there are plenty of folks who enjoy just the taste of good tobacco without giving thought to dissecting the cigar’s participation as a work of passion by a blender. But we long time smokers do expect something special from our cigar choices. Especially at current prices. Sure, you can buy inexpensive catalog brands and stick to them. It is very difficult to keep up with the overpriced sticks hitting the market every day. Go to your local B&M. I dare you to find a cigar under $10.

If it were not for the obsession of manufacturers to PR the shit out of a new blend, cigars might be less expensive. It takes a lot of dough for advertising and PR. Not to mention the cost of traveling around the country to perform events for smokers. Who pays for that? Not the manufacturer.

I seem to be on a rant this morning. Maybe I should pay $10 for one of those online preacher certificates.

We’ve reached the nicotine portion of this exhibit.
Construction has been excellent. No wrapper issues. No burn issues. Get it? (Got it). Good.
I just reviewed some cigars in which I felt all deserved high praise. Prices ranged from $6-$10. Not everyone is greedy.
I can’t recommend this cigar due to its $12 price tag. I would like to see Litto Gomez release this blend in a smaller size. I believe it would make a big difference in its outcome.
Final smoke time is 2 hours.


And now for something completely different:

We had played our first gig in Amsterdam…always the first city on the European tour.

We always took the opportunity the Dutch government provided by going to the Paradiso Club which was government run and required a lifetime admission of 5 Guilders. Back then, a Guilder was around 25 cents. It was a multi-tiered humongous venue with different types of live music on each floor.

And a giant main arena for headlining acts. It was always a gas because we would go to the basement, where the hash and weed was sold, and stocked up for the entire tour..which normally lasted 6-9 weeks.
Needless, to say, we were stoned out of our brains when we hit the big stage that first night. Stew and Sonja liked to drop acid before a show. I have no idea how they did that.

After the gig, our Dutch agent took the band and the main core of roadies out to dinner at a fancy restaurant.
Around 1am, we were stuffed. They paid us shit but the perks were good.

Our BTM agent, Rik, asked everyone if they wanted to go to the red light district and get laid? Only Darryl and I raised our hands. The others were chicken shit scared. Shit. We were rock stars! Rock stars aren’t afraid of STD’s. We were impenetrable.
So off we went to the red light district.

We got out of the car and surveyed the territory. All the girls sat in tiny bay windows that were back lit with red lamps. All lined up in a huge row along the famous canals.
Prostitution was legal and the girls had to get checked out on some sort of timetable. Of course that didn’t help if the guy just before you had the clap.

Rik saw a girl he liked and went in. Darryl and I waited beside the car.
He came out 5 minutes later and told us he made a deal for all three of us. $20 each.
He announced that he would go first. Since he was paying for it.
I was nervous as hell as I had never paid for it…in cash, anyways.

He returned 20 minutes later with a shit eatin’ grin. He slapped us on the backs and proclaimed with pride; it was GREAT!
Darryl announced he was going next. Great. I was getting thirds. This did not make me happy.
All I could think of was a gooshy quedgie. But then these girls were pros. They wouldn’t last if they weren’t clean. Gulp.

Darryl returned 20 minutes later with that same shit eatin’ grin and bragged what a stud he was.
Now it was my turn.
I lumbered into the room. It was the size of a closet. Big enough for a single bed and a make-up table.
The girl was of Heinz 57 heritage. She was from who knows where but she was gorgeous.

I made small talk but she would have none of it.
“Hurry up. Get your clothes off.”
I did as she commanded.
I tried to impress her with who I was but she said that she only liked R & B. And had no idea who Curved Air was.
She lay on the bed and was naked from the waist down. She kept her halter top on. Well, that was no fun.
She handed me a rubber.

Then she took a handful of something from a jar and slathered her quedgie with it. All I heard was this squishy sound. I was losing my enthusiasm.
She jerked on my dick a few times to get me hard. I was so scared that it wasn’t that easy to get an erection but, hey, I was 24 and anything could give me a hard on.
I climbed on board missionary style and she guided me in.

Not 30 seconds later, she said, “Can’t you cum? C’mon…cum already.”
I told her to shut up. I was concentrating.
She kept up this mantra and it was driving me nuts. Elvis had left the building.
So I tried to take her top off. She stopped me.
“That will be another 20 Guilders.”
I didn’t have 20 Guilders on me at that very specific moment. That was around $5.00.
I couldn’t cum and I wasn’t having any fun so I began to sing Simon and Garfunkel’s “Keep the Customer Satisfied.”

She got mad and let me put my hand inside her halter top if it would make me cum faster.
I succeeded in spite of the obstacles.
As I got dressed, she told me: “You didn’t drink tonight, did you?”
I smiled and said no. I don’t drink. “Why?”
She said the other two guys obviously had a lot to drink.
I looked confused.

Then she took her index finger…made it stand up straight and then allowed it to droop.
I laughed so hard my sides hurt.
So after all this, I was the only one to get laid. The others were too drunk. And they came out bragging about how good it was.
I sauntered out to the car with a big smile.
They looked at me and knew in an instant I knew.
They hung their heads and said nothing. I laughed.
It cost Rik $60 for me to get laid. I thanked him.
The experience cured me of my curiosity. The idea of paying for sex was wiped clean off of my Bucket List.

And furthermore….
Road life is not what it’s cracked up to be when you are in a big time rock band. Anyone that travels for work goes through the same thing. You wake up in look-alike hotels with the same fake paintings on the wall. And then there is that moment; just when you wake up…and you shudder.

Where am I? Space and time disappear. I could be in Switzerland or I could be in Manchester. It is a bizarre feeling. Time and space distortion.

The routine becomes wearing. You get dressed. You go downstairs to the hotel restaurant for the same breakfast as the day before. And you sit with your bleary eyed band mates as they try to choke down a lousy hotel breakfast. Coffee is really popular.

You’re bleary eyed because you stayed up so late and partied after the gig. The road manager controls how much sleep you get because you have to get into the luxurious road car and head to the next gig.

Across a country or across a continent. You might have a gig that night or one two days from now.
The roadies stay up even later than the band because of their duties. They have to break everything down and pack it into 18 wheelers. And they get up way before the band to get the trucks on the road. I often felt sorry for them. Tough job. The rest of the band treated them like slaves and personal assistants. I wasn’t brought up by wolves like the rest of the band and found I had more in common with our core roadies than my band mates.

This one morning was different.
We had played a gig in Amsterdam the night before. A wild town back then. Now the Netherland’s government is cracking down on the weed and hash trade putting hundreds of coffee shops out of business.

As we sat and ate breakfast, Stewart shushed everyone. Sonja had not said a word the entire time at the table.
We all looked at him quizzically.
He said, “Can you hear that?”
We shook our heads no.

He slowly leaned his head towards Sonja’s lap. And then he yelled out for everyone in the restaurant to hear: “She has a dildo inside her!!!”
Yep. She had taken a small 3” personal vibrator and put it inside her quedgie. The vibrator was making a small hum.

She sat there with a Cheshire Cat grin. Never said a word. She was happy and not very hungry. Sonja was a vegetarian. This always struck me as odd since she was a recovering junkie still on methadone. And her diet wasn’t exactly strict vegetarian in the healthy sense. All I ever saw her eat was fries (chips), eggs, and baked beans.

You ever done methadone? I haven’t. From my observations, it gets you very, very high.
The whole restaurant erupted with enthusiasm.
This did not faze Sonja.

Stewart insisted she get rid of it before we got in the car and took off. Reluctantly, she did so.
Sonja always wore a G String. So right at the table, she lifted her skirt and removed the dildo at the table. She pulled it out and waved it in our faces. We all screamed in horror.
Stewart yanked it away from her. We let the road manager pay for breakfast and we beat feet to get out of there.
So not every morning was the same. Some were more interesting.


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2 replies

  1. Katman, I see you’re from Milwaukee. Southsider here. West Allis. Living in Tennessee. Used to coach with the Packers. Coachjags@gmail. Shoot me an email

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