Wrapper: Dominican (Aged 9-12 years)
Binder: Dominican (Aged 9-12 years)
Filler: Dominican (Aged 9-12 years)
Size: 5 x 58 Robusto
Strength: Medium
Price: $32.33
Factory: De Los Reyes Cigar Factory, Dominican Republic
My cigars received 5 months of naked humidor time.
THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
The cap looks like a bad toupee on a French circus performer named Little Serge.
Distinct marshmallow and dark chocolate arise from wrapper to schnoz. As well as itty bitty notes of cinnamon, stewed lemons, and rich brewed coffee.
As I rarely smoke Gordo sized ring gauges, I never get to use the biggie flange duster on my PerfecPunch & Stand™. Today is the day. I hope it doesn’t disturb Large Moe’s floppy toupee. Voila! P.S. The cool thing is something you need to unlearn with the PerfecPunch. Instead of rotating the blades, you rotate the cigar instead. Like a Nebraska spinner. Let muscle memory do the rest.
The cold draw is very spicy indeed. The aged tobacco singes my areola while singing corpulent arias…notes of cinnamon, more marshmallow, dark chocolate, candied lemons, red pepper, and strong black coffee.
A $30 cigar is rarely in my go-to list of faves. I’ve been holding on to this baby for a while.
I dangle this participle from my lips and kick back on my luxurious bidet. I suck like it’s my first day in prison. Something about a beautifully aged group of tobacco leaves that just fucking kills me. If they could only transfer the taste from a cigar to an all-day lollipop…they’d sell a gazillion.
Wop-bop-a-loo-mop alop-bom-bom. The cigar goes out moments after being lit but it preserves its huge flavor profile at the back of my mouth and in my throat for minutes…so I linger. I sit on the porcelain dais and will pontificate moments from now.
If the blend can keep this up for the next two hours, this cigar deserves a solid 100. If not, woe is me for spending $100 for three cigars.
Aged oak barrels, fresh dark chocolate, lemon candy, earthy earthiness, espresso, and a combo of black and red pepperiness. These flavors aren’t new. But their presentation on the stage of aged tobacco makes them hover above the rest of the simian pack.
There is a sudden outburst of sweet brioche topped with melted marshmallow and buttery and gooey graham crackers.
Curved Air band leader Darryl Way loved to tell reporters, in the dressing room before our concerts, that I was from Texas and played bass with Elvis Presley. I know…what? I went with the façade. I did the worst imitation of a Texan’s swag. And my southern accent was deplorable. My cousin Fred Selden ran the horn section on two Elvis tours, so I had behind the scene stories I could use for the benefit of the press. After a few weeks, Darryl and I both tired of the game and put it out of its misery. But not before we left a snail trail of magazine articles across Europe highlighting me and not so much Darryl and the band. Mr. Big Head never saw that unexpected ego death coming.
Creaminess begins its promenade. Lemonyness is enhanced. I can’t keep up with the transitions. Citrus lets in some dark cherries. Smoky oaky. The balance of sweet v. savory is outstanding in its field. It should wear a poncho.
We were in Zurich doing sound check. A roadie whose name was Pedro approached to show the band a package of his new underwear. He smiled and told us that he shat himself that afternoon and this was the reason for the new undies. I wasn’t that high. It happened.
Beautiful construction. Slow as she goes. I think that’s a naval term.
Trace, a Dutch band that supported us on one tour, was made up of three guys. The leader was a Rick Wakeman clone with a thousand keyboards on stage. All on wheels so he could race back and forth, like a crazy man, across the proscenium fingers akimbo. It was nuts. After a gig, the same roadie Pedro, left three of Trace’s basses next to our big rig and walked away. He never noticed when he returned that they were stolen in his absence. It was discovered at sound check the next day. Pedro decided he would give their bassist my Fender P bass without alerting me. After our dinner and return to the arena, I saw this guy playing my bass! The fucker altered the shit out of it to make it playable for his needs. And then never reverted it back to its original state. And…not a bloody thank you from the asshole. First time I screamed and bellowed while in Europe. I still hold a grudge. It gets better. A different gig. Pedro was doing sound from the upper balcony of a theater when he dropped an entire bottle of scotch on the console, destroying it. Fortunately, we were just an hour from London. Other roadies raced there to get another one. We made the faithful wait two hours before we went on. Pedro was fired immediately. He is now the president of Uzbekistan.
This is one of the smoothest cigars I’ve smoked in a long time. Croissants with sweet butter. Chocolaté mousse. Lemon crème. Café au lait. Steak poivre. Cannelle truffles. And the curated excrément from licensed marmottes.
The whole exceeds its parts. Just lovely.
Don’t get me wrong…even aged cigars need to breathe for a few months in your humidor or else you get gonged for improper behaviour. Let ‘em rest.
It takes 30 minutes to burn an inch. Yikes. That’s right. I’m an engineer with a calculator. When extrapolated, it becomes 2-1/2 hours. This is what I want from a $30 stick.
This blend is just too big for its britches. I need to get this red ball out of my mouth for the fait de compli.
Strength has been a storied medium. The first half is done. A marvelous thing.
The second half is the chef’s dressing. Complexity is the upfront factor. Transitions meld. The balance is perfect. Everything a cigar snob looks for in a good cigar.
Intensity is a rarity in any cigar blend. While the strength is held back, the body exhumes hidden talent. This is a great cigar. In 2021, HW gave it a 92. That’s like 1.2 million from me.
It is so hard not to huff ‘n puff on a good cigar. Don’t. Pretend that you’re a patient man.
Chocolate sweetness morphs into Marshmallow Chocolate Poke Cake. It’s not what you think. It’s cacao bean ground into smithereens and topped with vanilla yogurt and topped with maraschino cirrhosis. I just made that up. The mix is so convoluted now that I’m in flux. Confusion comes easy for old men.
I’m going to buy more. Don’t you dare.
I sent an email to bassist extraordinaire legend Carol Kaye last week. She wrote back. She’s 89 and still kickin’. Such a nice lady. She says she remembers giving me lessons in 1968. That’s how nice she is.
Cinnamon with light peppery spices. The last third is exquisite design by the gods. Patoro got all their favorites in…OpusX, Padron, Kelner, and Davidoff. A helluva rack up.
How many so-called aged cigars have you smoked and after its halfway point said, “What the fuck?” Translation: Fuck me. Disappointment. Me too. The Patoro XA VO Extra boasts the aging and then comes through with a flawless blend.
I wish I had included this cigar in my top 2024 list…next year.
You can purchase the entire line of Patoro VA XO Extra cigars from sponsor Small Batch Cigar. 15% off through Dec. 31, 2024, with promo code KATMAN.
A healthy, happy, and rewarding 2025 to all my readers.
Thank you for supporting me. Now…go smoke a cigar.
RATING: 100
Check out Katman’s Kartel at Small Batch Cigar and score deals on cigars from My Top 32 Cigars of 2023 ~ Rated 96 or Higher! Use promo code: KATMAN for 10% off. Through Dec. 31, KATMAN promo code will get you 15% off.
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Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS
