Partagas Legend | Cigar Reviews by the Katman

Wrapper: Connecticut Broadleaf
Binder: Honduran Olancho San Agustin
Filler: Dominican Piloto Cubano
Size: 6.5 x 48
Strength: Full
Price: $10.00 ($12.49 MSRP)

Today we take a look at the Partagas Legend.
Thank you, Charles “Mossad Matzoh Ball” Lim.

“The newest addition to General Cigar Co.’s Partagas brand is paying tribute to the forefathers of the handmade cigar business who brought the well-known brand to prominence.

“The Partagas Legend is being released at this years’s IPCPR Convention & Trade Show in honor of Jaime Partagás, Ramon Cifuentes, Edgar Cullman Sr., Daniel Nunez and Benji Menendez, all of whom had a key hand in establishing and growing the Partagás brand.

“The cigar wears a Connecticut broadleaf wrapper over a Honduran Olanco San Agustin binder and aged Dominican Piloto Cubano filler leaves. The blend was developed by Jhonys Diaz, General Cigar’s master blender, whose expertise was honed by learning firsthand from the forefathers of the brand.

“To honor the tobacco men who raised him in the business, Jhonys selected tobaccos from Connecticut, the Dominican Republic and Honduras, all of which have historical significance to the legends of Partagas,” said Andrés Maturén, brand manager of Partagas.

“Diaz describes the cigar as a refined medium-bodied cigar, with a press release adding that the cigar has abundant notes of cocoa and earth.
“The line is being offered in three sizes, each offered in 20-count boxes.
“Alluding to the future of the brand, the box-pressed vitolas are presented in sophisticated, white lacquered boxes that bear the updated look of the brand. The collection consists of three cigars, each presented in boxes containing 20 cigars.”

(Prices are approximately $2+ cheaper online.)
Corona Leyenda 5.5 x 44 $11.49 ($9.00)
Fabuloso Leyenda (Corona Extra) 6.5 x 48 $12.49 ($10.00)
Toro Leyenda 6.25 x 54 $14.49 ($11.50)

This is a very rustic looking stick. It looks like it wasn’t pressed after rolling. Lumps and bumps with exposed seams and loads of veins. Sloppy actually…there is a nice rounded triple cap but is interrupted by a tree trunk sized vein running down the length of the cap about 2”. The wrapper is the hue of heavy espresso with notes of rust shining through in the light. And smooth as a baby’s tush. Surprisingly, the cigar band does not give props to the blend’s name. Strictly Partagas’ name only.
The stick isn’t properly filled with lots of soft spots and some hard spots. And the box press has rounded corners. Squished.

Caramel, chocolate, espresso, malt, salty pretzel, nuts, eye watering red pepper, mint, cedar, barnyard, earth, wind, and leather, floral notes, and Indian spices.
The draw needs the attention of my PerfecDraw cigar poker tool. A couple of reams and the cigar is now smokable.

I read one review and all I remember is the writer saying he can withstand nicotine by the kilo but this cigar nearly knocked him out. And guess what? I have the biggest of the 3 sizes to smoke and review in real time. I will take breaks for puking. But I will keep on writing during the dry heaves.

This may be my longest review yet so if you read me at lunch break; you’re S.O.L.

Steak sauce, red pepper, meaty, malts, chocolate, espresso, almonds, cedar and black tea. Seems more like a Nic puro at this early juncture.
Strength is pushing past medium from the start. Oy.

Sweet elements pop up: Caramel, molasses, limeade, sweet cream, and stewed apples. Nice.
The burn is a total mess. Yes, it’s a box press of which I am forever cursed by this shape ever burning normally in my hands but still; this is funkier than usual.
Complexity kicks in. Transitions spread out. Nice finish.

The chocolate, espresso, malt, spiciness, creaminess (new), and steak sauce are predominant and giving the cigar’s blend focus. A new balance is formed in a joint venture with nuance and subtle flavors interweaving making this now an impressive cigar. And I’m only a bit more than an inch in.

Instead of the Partagas Legend going for its MSRP of $12.50, it can be had online for $10 so I shall refer to it as such.

AC/DC is playing “Big Balls.” Back in the day we musicians used to call the band “AC/DG.” It was a diss meaning that the band typically used very basic chord structures in their songs. It was funnier then.

The ash is reflecting the semi-poor construction by being light and airy with a short shelf life.

On the upside, the flavors are welling up in my puny brain and I’m digging it. Now, I’m not a Partagas fan. I find that their catalog blends are aimed at the more inexperienced cigar smoker. When I go into my local B&M, I see guys grabbing the biggest Partagas or Punch they can find and smoke it straight out of the cello. I guess they like the taste of hay. So, this new blend is a real departure from the more mundane blends that Partagas aims for to please their base.

Little thongs of nicotine shoot in and out giving me a heads up of what’s coming.

The spiciness is ever changing from red to black to white peppers.

I slap on Joe Bonamassa “Live at the Greek Theater.” Need some up-tempo blues.

The other review I mentioned made a comment that because the stick is so “overfilled” that the smoke was non-ending. I’m not experiencing that as I believe my stick is underfilled a tad.

The Partagas Legend has become quite complex at this point. Clearly, the blend was devised for the experienced smoker. Newbies need not apply without an advance directive. I’m getting numerous flavors whizzing by at light speed unidentifiable but contributing to the overall intensity of the flavor profile and balance of the cigar.

The creaminess is going nuts like a sea of swarming simbas. The malt element is way out front now is a perfect complement to the sweet cream.

The Partagas Legend is proving it has depth and soul. Deeply complex.

Beautiful finish that reminds me of yellow matter custard dripping from a dead dog’s eye. Crabalocker fishwife, pornographic priestess…Boy, you’ve been a naughty girl…You let your knickers down.

Strength hits full tilt. Nicotine is holding back readying itself for a massive frontal assault.

Spectacular cigar blend. Man, they did a good job with this concoction. Now if they have the cajones to blend something this good, why haven’t they really made an effort to raise the bar on their catalog blends? To keep them cheap, maybe? I have no fucking idea. I’m now on the Partagas bandwagon.

The burn issues are maddening. I realize I’m the only smoker on the planet that fights with box pressed cigars but I dislike the constant torching of the foot to keep it from going completely bat shit crazy on me.

I just reviewed the $12 The T. Connecticut a couple days ago and what a difference in attitude by the blenders of that cigar compared to this cigar. It emphasizes that there was no passion used in The T. Meanwhile, the Partagas Legend is spilling over with focus and passion; and for a few bucks less. Amazing.

The burn time is not the over extended time frame I thought it would be. At the halfway point, I’ve invested about 45 minutes. That’s normal for a stick this size.

Sweet spot hits hard and heavy. Flavors just explode leaving flotsam and jetsam on the carpet. Everything is now perfect; except for the burn issues.
I’m not going to take points away for the burn because of my curse.

The cigar is super strong now. My eyelashes just disappeared. And my tongue is laying on my chin.

And here we are…enough nicotine to kill a horse. Or your barnyard animal of choice.

The last third will see my demise. I will everything to “Helping Hands Monkey Helpers” on Go Fund Me.

If you can handle a super strong cigar with an intensive amount of nicotine, you should definitely look into this cigar. If you pass out from a Gurkha, keep walking.

The Partagas Legend is pushing the envelope on complexity.
Here is the laundry list of flavors: Black pepper, creaminess, espresso, caramel, nuts, cocoa, malts, cedar, tree fruit, black tea, steak sauce, cumin, a dab of honey, and ginger.
Complete and total balance. Every time I regain consciousness, I am engaged by subtle elements that are nuanced and intense cohabitating in a kibbutz peacefully.

Delicious blend. Make sure you have no weapons around you in case of blackouts.

I intend to try this cigar again but in the Corona size. I bet it’s a killer in that petite size.

I’m now sitting limp in my chair with my hands folded in my lap and staring, without blinking, at my laptop screen. I may be temporarily paralyzed. I need to walk it off but I can’t feel my knees.

The main thing I like about this cigar is that it improves with each puff. There are no dead spots in the flavor profile or complexity. A joyful blend if you don’t count the lapses of memory and blackouts.

I’m also surprised at how little humidor time this cigar needs. I’ve only had them for a month or so. That’s pretty New Breed for a brand that usually takes months of humi time before they are ready to smoke. Word of mouth is going to make this a popular blend.

My moustache bursts into flames. And my 3 day old stubble moves to the right side of my face.

I’m not sure if I’m going to make it through the last 1-1/2”. This is the strongest cigar I’ve smoked in ages. La Bomba who? I’ve lost vision in my left eye.

If you can man up and take it for God and Country, try this cigar.
With all my pissing and moaning about the strength does not diminish the wonderful flavor arena. It is truly a stunning flavorful blend.

OK. I’m going to lay down on the bathroom floor now.


And now for something completely different:

We were in Amsterdam looking for hash because the Paradiso Club was closed on Mondays. Damn! The band’s American lyricist…(A very nice older lady of 40.. .Ha-ha) told us where her connection was. She gave us a map. Yes, she traveled with the band. Her name was Norma Tager. She died an untimely death from cancer. Sweet woman. And my only other Jewish comrade in London.

Stewart Copeland (The Police) and I took off on our journey. The city is peppered with canals in which they are used for both travel and are also lined with thousands of house boats.

You could always tell where to buy weed because the house boat had it growing on its roof. A not very subtle advertising gimmick. But you didn’t know its quality so you took your chances. And even though we were all on the management payroll and “rock stars,” we were still relatively poor. Magical management accounting books.

The map got us hopelessly lost. And we started knocking on doors of houseboats asking for directions. One boat invited us in and we were shocked at what we saw.

An American man in his 50’s, wearing an old English powdered wig, was sitting on an honest to God regal throne. Gathered at his feet, were half a dozen young boys in their underwear. The décor was an homage to Liberace. He kindly gave us the right directions (as we would find out) and then we did a Three Stooges shtick of trying to get out the door.

We got to the right boat. Stew knocked on the door. I impressed on Stew that he should knock instead of just announcing we were there. But nobody told Stew anything. And Stew was a big guy so he had a false sense of power. We were young.

The door opened, a fist was thrown into Stew’s face, and he crumpled like a cheap suit. I charged the big, burly man and cold cocked him with one punch to the neck. I was aiming for his jaw.

I stepped over the slumped body and walked over to a big desk. On top was a chunk of hashish the size of a dinner plate and about 2” thick. I broke off a piece, put some Guilders down to pay for it and helped get Stew up.

The boat owner was still out cold. We ignored him and left. Fortunately, all of us were Americans so we chose to smoke our hash in a pipe instead of that stupid method all Europeans used; they got two rolling papers laid end to end overlapping. They broke up one or two cigarettes and sprinkled the tobacco inside the rolling paper. They then heated and crumbled the hash; then sprinkled it on to the tobacco. A piece of match book was used and rolled into a tube and placed at one end of the unrolled concoction.
The whole thing was then rolled into a long joint; with a cardboard mouthpiece.

None of us smoked cigarettes and that method gave us the spins. So, a pipe was the way to go. At parties, we offered our pipe to the Europeans and they whined that smoking it that way got them too high. Pussies. We laughed and lit the pipe.

I got to go to a lot of cool parties now that I was someone…or so I thought. Every bloody wanker in England smoked cigarettes. Well…I didn’t. I would get dozens of offers for a fag during the length of a party til I wanted to hang myself…so I started carrying an unlit cigarette in my hand; so, when I was offered, I would just hold up my hand and they went away.

The unconscious guy on the houseboat had a roommate and he showed up as we were leaving the boat. He apologized for his friend and offered us a ride in his dinghy back to our hotel. We said of course.

The boat was the same size as the one Tom Hanks used in the movie, “Splash.”

The canal was rough from all the tourist boats. We bobbed up and down and swished from side to side. We thought we were going to die.

We got back to the hotel totally sea sick. We handed the hash to the other band members and Stew and I retired to our rooms to lie down.

We hunted down cannabis, discovered an old perv, got into a fight, almost drowned in the canal, and made it back to civilization without being killed. Just a typical day of being on the road.

“Lick My Love Pump”
Nigel Tufnel: The numbers all go to eleven. Look, right across the board, eleven, eleven, eleven and…
Marty DiBergi: Oh, I see. And most amps go up to ten?
Nigel Tufnel: Exactly.
Marty DiBergi: Does that mean it’s louder? Is it any louder?
Nigel Tufnel: Well, it’s one louder, isn’t it? It’s not ten. You see, most blokes, you know, will be playing at ten. You’re on ten here, all the way up, all the way up, all the way up, you’re on ten on your guitar. Where can you go from there? Where?
Marty DiBergi: I don’t know.
Nigel Tufnel: Nowhere. Exactly. What we do is, if we need that extra push over the cliff, you know what we do?
Marty DiBergi: Put it up to eleven.
Nigel Tufnel: Eleven. Exactly. One louder.
Marty DiBergi: Why don’t you make ten a little louder, make that the top number and make that a little louder?
Nigel Tufnel: [pauses] These go to eleven.


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4 replies

  1. Katman, your stories always make smile and never get old. Long ashes Bro!

  2. Thanks Ronald…I’m here to protect and serve…

  3. Stay still, I called the humane society. They’re on the way.
    This sounds like the perfect stogie to pare with 3 fingers of Laguvalin14.
    I await the next review…. if you find the strength.

  4. This one was really nice. Perfect with a sweet black coffee after a full dinner. PD poker was a must, or I wouldn’t have been able to tell if I was blue in the face from the right draw or the nicotine (it was the nicotine).

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