Simon Rojas 32nd Anniversary Maduro | Cigar Reviews by the Katman

Wrapper: Ecuadorian Habano
Binder: Dominican
Filler: Nicaraguan, Dominican
Size: 5.125 x 54 Robusto
Strength: Medium/Full
Price: $8.35 ($7.52 from Atlantic Cigar for a single. $6.68 each in a fiver)

My cigars have been hibernating naked for nearly 3 months.
The only place I found info on these cigars was from Atlantic Cigar where I bought my fiver. Not a single written review. Not a single video review. Not a single podcast review. Big uh-oh. But then it might have a happy ending.

From Atlantic Cigar:
“Simon Rojas has been running his successful cigar factory for well over three decades, producing some of the finest cigars for numerous cigar brands. Simon has released this special limited production release honoring the industry that has bought him such joy. The Simon Rojas 32nd Anniversary is truly something special, achieved though patience and experience, a rich flavorful blend that superbly well balanced. Only the finest selected tobacco is used in this blend, only a small amount from hundreds tobacco bales has been selected and aged over many years to produce this exquisite cigar. The Simon Rojas 32nd Anniversaries are available in two wrapper styles, an Ecuadorian Habano wrapper and a Maduro.”
Two sizes: 5.125 x 54 & 6.125 x 54 Both in Maduro and Habano.

Temp is currently 4°. We have that nationwide snowstorm hitting us today. Tomorrow’s high will be around the same. Friday will be the mankiller with a high of -35°. Why do I bring this up in a cigar review? I can’t smoke a cigar with the windows closed. Yes, I am trapped like a Mongol Rat. Don’t want an icy treat of Test-sicles.

My go to music for the review is a compilation of The Band. Only two of the five members are still alive: Garth Hudson and Robbie Robertson.

The construction seems solid. But I have a plug in the stick. Out comes the magical mystery PerfecDraw draw tool to the rescue of my snobbish demands that I like a cigar the way I like it. Which includes my cheeks not collapsing each time I take a puff. Thar she blows! The plug was the entire length of the cigar. See. Way better than using a dumpster as an ashtray.

The lighting of this menorah goes well. A well-rounded start that is occupied by a simple complexity, a scoche of black pepper, malt, graham cracker, and espresso, and creaminess.

Strength hits medium/full immediately. The spiciness ratchets up.

I smoked one a month in and tossed it. A mere 3 months has done wonders for this blend.

The char line is behaving. Exactly how I make sure to behave when I visit Helga von Trapp in her ‘special’ studio the day I get my Social Security.

The flavor profile is upped ¾” in…. Black cherry, black licorice, cinnamon, espresso, dark chocolate, creaminess, toasted bagel with butter, and something obscure that defines itself as meaty…to be fair, It/Him/Her/What?

Smoothness settles in. Balance is struggling the good fight, trying to attain the perfect savory v. sweetness.

For less than $7, so far, this is a great go-to stick for my humidor. Now if I hadn’t bought Charlotte a big selection of stainless steel brassieres for Christmas…I must wait til January.

The burn is comfortably slow…making me comfortably numb. Plus, the window is open a 9am and it’s only 11°. My Test-sicles tap me on my shoulder to ask if I prefer grape or cherry flavor? I smack them and they run to the bathroom and slam the door.

We have an even steven savory v. sweet balance now.

The first sweet spot occurs. The black pepper has ceased to be a nuisance and melds into the flavor profile as a friend.

The complexity inches forward along with the cigar’s progress. Nothing linear here to look at folks, move along.

The only Rojas I could find via Google was Neil Rojas. Not a single mention of Mr. Simon.

The medium/full strength takes a break as it allows the subtleties of the blend to quash the spiciness and bring it into the fold.

The sweet spot has not let go of my leg. How many times have you been to someone’s home and their little rat dog humps your leg? If I know they have a rodent dog, I paste photos of the dog catcher on my jeans. That just makes the gerbil dog angry. I’ve become very agile at digging tiny graves without a single informer.

The ash is cemented to the cigar’s foot.

Medium/full strength attacks like an enraged pink fairy armadillo…not that there is anything wrong with that.

Nicotine rides in like Roy Rogers on Trigger. Growing up in SoCal, I had the distinct pleasure of visiting Apple Valley and the Roy Rogers Museum. He stuffed Trigger and put him on display. I mean, what the fuck? I wonder if his wife Dale Evans got the same treatment.

The cigar is cruising now. The first sweet spot is entrenched into the blend’s profile. Creaminess is now leading the charge. Same flavors as earlier mentioned, no changes.

Transitions begin at 2” burned. Whipping past at a frenetic pace. The finish is a nice combo of savory and sweet. Those 2” took 40 minutes of burn time.

If I knew nothing about this cigar, I’d easily guess it was at least a $10 cigar, or more.

An intensity raises the bar on the depth of this cigar blend. The stick lost its flavor wheel dominance and becomes a solid unit of sophistication.

The char line remains untouched by human hands. Even Elon couldn’t fuck this up.

Sips of water re-invigorate individual flavors of chocolate, creaminess, fruitiness, strong espresso, black pepper, graham cracker, cinnamon, cedar, and charred filet mignon.

I was afraid of this…with the window open, I see the cat frozen and stuck to the floor. This is why God invented the spatula. A quick 30 seconds in the microwave will fix Sammy in no time. Hopefully, he doesn’t hold a grudge.

The strength remains at medium/full. The nicotine is no longer a death threat.

Moments after typing that last sentence, strength hits full tilt. This is now quite the cigar smoker killer. Or as seasoned cigar smokers say, “Bring it on, son.”

I hit the halfway point at the 50-minute mark.

The disparate origin of the leaves makes a big impression. I like this cigar a lot, my dears. I’m seriously thinking that a box of these cigars in my possession would be a good move. I cannot think of another blend, at this price, that smokes like a much more expensive stick.

I do advise that newbies, with swooning issues, stay away. Sophisticates will applaud and do the happy dance. Just before the nicotine takes them down.

My first year of high school, rules were relaxed, and guys were allowed to grow mustaches. Every boy in school went for it. Mine grew in unevenly so I used my mother’s eyeliner pencil to fill in the gaps. From that point forward, I bought my own. There was some deception on my part every time I made out with a chick in my car. I carried a clean hankie. The moment we stopped kissing, I used it to wipe the eyeliner off my date’s mouth, chin, nose, and neck. It was nerve wracking. My mustache finally became a man by my senior year.

The cigar is sitting atop its latest sweet spot. This has become a cigar for He-Men only.

If you’re a chomper, you’re going to find yourself in quicksand. Nice smooth puffs every couple minutes is required to survive.

But the cigar tastes so damn good that I don’t care that I must wear a football helmet while I write this review. Charlotte became tired of finding me on the floor in a coma with a bump on my noggin.

The frigid air coming through the window no longer has any effect. My heartbeat has slowed down to three beats per minute.

Despite the intensity of this cigar, I’m going to nub it. It is now as complex as calculus.
I’m so old that in college we used slide rules for computations.

The construction has remained perfect. So has the burn.

I’ve reviewed a gaggle of much more expensive cigars that weren’t nearly as good as this baby. Makes you wonder. Why can one blender present a gorgeous experience at a catalog price while others make you spend $17 for a non-descript cigar.

Charlotte rings the giant steel triangle to let me know my gruel is ready for consumption.

You can purchase these cigars from my sponsor, Atlantic Cigar.