Freud Cigars Limited Edition Agape | Cigar Reviews by the Katman

Wrapper: Dominican Varietal
Binder: Dominican
Filler: Dominican
Size: 5 x 54 Robusto Extra
Strength: Medium
Price: $30.00

From Freud Cigars:

My enlarged schnoz starts at the foot and picks up aromas of strong clove and potent oak. Assorted Thanksgiving baking spices spin around the clove like a gyroscope. First thing that came to mind when I wrote gyroscope was colorectal scope…Men. Don’t get old. You have no idea what awaits you.

Chocolate is present. The cap area shovels caramel, creaminess, and lovely floral notes. Exactly opposite of what the above Freud photo shows. Ah. I was going right to left as I had a flashback of my Bar Mitzvah reading Hebrew. Never mind.

Speaking of colonoscopies…my last one was in 2016. I am never, never, never, ever going to go through that again. Add an endoscopy done at the same time (They stick a Nikon camera on the end of a 12” diameter hose and shove it down your throat and into your stomach looking for polyps), and it’s a Mardi Gras. The goo goo juice they gave me didn’t knock me out. So, they sprayed my throat with lidocaine and started snaking that fucking tube deep down. Gagging doesn’t begin to describe the sensation…and it stays there for about 15 minutes. It brought back bad memories of my time on D Block in Quentin. And the prep! You must drink 45 quarts of the most vile liquid every half hour for hours. Why? To turn you ass into a shit faucet all night long. You arrive at the hospital dehydrated and exhausted…AND THEN, they begin with the Dr. Torquemada (look him up) torture with plastic tubes. If you can, when your doc advises a colonoscopy and endoscopy…just kill yourself.

Where was I?

Ah yes, another $30 cigar awaits. I’m elated that I’ll probably be dead in a few years when a Roly Poly Second starts at $30 per stick. And any stick by AJ, will be $60 or higher. I’d have to go back to doing hits on America’s enemies to afford to smoke cigars.

The cigar feels light in the hand. I draw and get a rush of air. A little too loose. My PerfecDraw draw adjustment tool doesn’t stop its whining until I flog it with my electric toothbrush. Don’t worry, son…plenty of cigars in my humidor that your services will be required. Don’t you hate inanimate objects with attitude?

Today. Stevie Wonder. “Songs In The Key Of Life.” 1976 release. Where were you and what were you doing?

Great beginning. The cigar is downright delicious from the first puff. Notes of baking spices, dark chocolate, creaminess, strong oakiness, cinnamon, a small slice of black pepper, and tidbits of things my palate cannot identify yet but bring tie the whole flavor experience together like a giant pork roast.

Damn. This is how a $30 cigar should start. If this blend keeps this up, I will be a boner fide fan. Ptooey on the Flor De Las Antillas 10th Anniversary. And it was $10 more than this baby.

A complex finish is also immediate. Depth and character make a perfect landing. The judges go wild.

A solid medium strength keeps the blend on an even keel.

Cigar Aficionado gave it a 90. Of course, that score is useless in modern times.

A sweet v. savory balance does the 40 in 3.2 seconds.

Sips of water accentuate and add to the flavor profile.

Everything about this stick is outstanding my friends. What a blend!

I was fearing that I’d just need to copy and paste my Flor De Las Antillas review. But no…this is a bold cigar with integrity and sexual needs. I adorn the cigar with garters and stockings. Charlotte always liked that on me before our intense 7 minutes of sex.

Despite the cigar feeling under filled, so far it is a slow roll. Man, I want to savor every bit of what this thing has to give. So dear readers, in order for me to buy a few boxes, I will need you to put your best credit cards in a plain manilla envelope and send them to me toot suite.

The meatiness comes from the sensation of smoked brisket. The oak wavers back and forth from mesquite. Caramelized sweet onions. Tangy and spicy BBQ sauce lingers at the back of my throat. The black pepper takes three steps back. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup is tearing it up. Creaminess is a methodical baseline. Malt appears just in time. Brunei hummus mixed with ferret filets make their move. Touches of Walt Disney’s frozen head make an appearance. Frosted Flakes with milk dump the bowl over my palate. Light floral notes spin like a dreidel. And lastly, some lemon zest.

CA is full of shit. A 90? Really? What? Freud didn’t pony up enough dough?

This is definitely a special occasion cigar. This is one of the best cigars I’ve smoked in a very long time. Jesus Alou and Manny Mota.

This ever happen to you? I was in high school and got up before the rest of the house. I made a bowl of cereal. I sleep in a tee shirt and boxers. I sleepily opened the silverware drawer and extracted a spoon. I then pushed it hard to shut it. Meanwhile, my tiny weenie was making an escape from my boxers and ended up being slammed by the drawer turning it into a flatworm. I screamed like a banshee. Woke up the house and everyone came running asking what happened? I squeaked out, “Nothing.” Me neither.

This cigar is so fucking great I want to go fight in Ukraine. Unbelievable blending skills at play. Strength hangs at medium. Speaking of hanging…you ever David Carradine yourself? Me neither. Cutting off air supply to your lungs and brain while jerking off just doesn’t seem kosher. I prefer long showers and a waterproof iPhone.

It takes 45 minutes to get to the halfway point. Oh joy for you…I can keep rambling incessantly until I become a human Ambien.

As I’ve said earlier, my neurology team instructed me to stop smoking cigars. I’ve run some very scientific studies lately. During stressful times, I light up a cigar and maybe put the ear buds in. I check my blood pressure prior and afterwards. My blood pressure continues to be too high…until, I do the aforementioned when afterwards I re-check my BP and it is considerably lower. Ha to you uninformed medical people. But I do just ignore the migraine and projectile vomiting. Small price.

The cigar finds its first sweet spot and the cigar becomes the James Webb telescope. I can see constellations calling out my name like sirens on stormy shores.

And it holds tight a medium strength just like the journey began.

I see that I’m up to 4,250 words now. I think I shall continue until I hear you snoring.

To be fair, most readers of any cigar review go straight to the rating and move on. Except for my readers. They want to count how many times I say ‘fuck.’ I’m like a remedial reading class in 8th grade.

Flavors are constant. While often this is not a good thing…in this case it is wonderful. The change comes from the intensity as the second half swings from a Wooly Mastodon’s balls.

I went with friends to the Sacramento State Fair. They had the Budweiser Clydesdales there. At one point, we passed the stables. There was a huge group of mostly women staring into one stall. We went over to see what the hubbub was about. This giant horse had a dick like two Louisville Sluggers. It was impossible to have sex upon return from that excursion. The disappointment in our girlfriend’s eyes was too much to bear.

A new element…oatmeal with maple syrup and cinnamon. Creaminess is still holding down the fort. The sweet v. savory balance has been consequential. It does not stray.
I mean that this mother fucker has more depth than Marjorie Taylor Greene…wait, I got that backwards. Nothing stupid about this cigar blend. Pure brilliance.

The cigar finishes at 90 minutes. I nubbed it and the flavors just linger like an unwanted house guest…never goes away and refuses to wash the dishes. I plan on gargling the ashes from the ashtray later for a redux experience.

You can purchase these cigars from sponsors Atlantic Cigar and Small Batch Cigar. With SBC, you can get 10% off with promo code katman.×54/



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