Wrapper: Ecuadorian Habano 2000 Rosado Oscura (Aged 4 Years)
Binder: Mexican San Andrés
Filler: Nicaraguan Corojo (Jalapa), Dominican Piloto Cubana Villa González, Dominican Criollo 98 San Víctor
Size: 5.5 x 54 Double Robusto
Strength: Medium
Price: $14.00
Date Released: April 2025
Quantity Released: Undisclosed
Factory: MJ Frias, Dominican Republic

My cigars received 3 months of naked humidor time.

THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
Another celebrity cigar. If you take a look at Conor’s website, it is very difficult not to chuckle at the way his publicist has turned Mr. McGregor into a high society, muy cultured icon. Really. The man makes a living beating the shit out of people. You should check it out here.

Would you buy a cigar from this guy? Yes, I would. I’d hand him my wallet and all my valuables and run. Fuck the cigars.

This quote is from the cigar’s website:
“Luxury isn’t just about what you own—it’s about how you live. Notorious Cigars is built for those who lead, conquer, and celebrate—a brand crafted for those who refuse to settle for anything less than legendary.”
And this can all be brought to you with a $14 cigar.

The cigar smells like nun chucks. At 40, I invested in lessons in Korean karate called Moo Yea Do. 10th degree black belt Tiger Yang was my sensei. I was pretty good with the plastic nun chucks but the couple times I tried the real deal wood variety, I ka-knocked myself silly in the head and saw stars. I get notes of milk chocolate, floral, fruit, and musky earthiness.

This is a stout fucker with serious weight. It feels like a barbell. The wrapper has a gorgeous patina full of oil and sweaty regrets.

I pierce the toast with my trusty PerfecPunch. The draw is dead in the water. Not a lick of air. The double shill begins by using my PerfecDraw. A couple swishes and the draw is likely plausible. The cold draw is full of baking spices, malt, dark chocolate, espresso, nuts, and a slight minty note.

First puffs escalate into a nice earthy sweetness with ancillary notes of fruit, cocoa, caramel, vanilla, and honeysuckle.

I just don’t have proper humidification skills. Every day, I wander through the apartment checking my humidors. Constantly slapping myself in the forehead as I find no consistency. I change my Boveda packets to suit. And then do it all over again the next day. Dry boxing helps steer the cigar the right way down a one way street. This morning’s Conor has two days of dry boxing and things feel and taste better.

I got as far as a brown belt. But I was in my 40’s and the young guys loved to beat the shit out of the ‘old man.’ It was very difficult to counter the bendiness of guys in their early 20’s. They actually never beat the shit out of me, but it was always close.

There is a slight sourness that isn’t untasty but doesn’t go with the flavor profile I expect from these leaf stats. I must hand it to the McGregor team for not going for our nutty ball sacks by doing what every other celebrity does: the dreaded $25 cigar just because they can.

I need the Stooges, so I flip on the tube. I feel better now. I bought a lemon grater on a whim.

The char line is decent and the burn is slow…Doo Dah Doo Dah. Strength is medium.

The sourness begins to overtake other flavors. Not a good sign. I offer the cigar a lifetime club membership at Mr. Pillow. The cigar declines. Now what…I’m only an inch in. I used that aphorism when I was a single guy. An investigation always followed.

The cigar band says, “Ireland 1988.” I looked forward to the planned Curved Air tour of the Emerald Isle but the slaughter of The Miami Showband in 1975 by the IRA put the brakes on as promoters couldn’t guarantee the safety of musicians. It was a scary time to live in London as bombings and bloodshed occurred with an alarming regularity. I missed being blown up at the London Hilton by 24 hours. A world without the katman…so close.

The first inch is history. My previous sticks saw the same thing as the blend started great but cooled off. Disappointment sets in.

Nice smoke output.

The cigar is now a great example of ordinary. Damn.

I’ve rescinded my self-imposed directive of never reviewing crap cigars. Why? Because I spend a fortune on cigars and most fall into the world of Capuchin monkey poop. The guardrails are down.

The cigar continues on its downward spiral. I look forward to my first cigar of the day. It is always the best cigar. A clean palate is a magical thing. The shine is off writing about that first Tupelo honey. I can’t wait to put all this katman baloney behind me and move on to being chronically old. I shall blend in seamlessly.

Construction remains solid with a nice slow roll and perfect burn syncope. But the flavor is nearly gone. Oh lord.

I was sparring with a 20-year-old when I landed a ferocious kick to the guy’s groin. My big toe slammed into his cup. I broke it…my toe, not the cup. It immediately swelled and turned black…my toe, not the cup. Master Tiger Yang told me he would look at it when I returned from dressing in the locker room. He said, “It’s probably just needs to be pulled to put it back in place.” What??! To exit the dojo, you had to travel down a hallway that passed Yang’s office. You were required to do the bowing chazerai as you appeared in the doorway and then again as you left his presence. I did not want the 6’-5 giant of a man to pull on my broken toe. I limped with great fear and trepidation. A couple feet before the doorway, I stopped limping and when the Tiger man asked to see my toe, I said it was fine and made a beeline for the door. A visit to the ER confirmed what was obvious. I still have nightmares of that giant Korean yanking on my toe while bellowing, “It will be all right. The 14th time will do the trick. Stop screaming!” I took a four-week break from being a fighting man.

I’m obviously killing time. The cigar is transmuting from a 6” cigar into a 3” burnt effigy of PM Harold Wilson.

The cigar is very smooth but without depth, richness, complexity and any sense of transitional quality. My other sticks were similar. I’m holding out despite the disenchantment. How do you fuck up great leaf stats as shown above. Everything should have gone right. I don’t think that McGregor realized that MJ Frias is the self-titled King of Budget Cigars. I can’t remember one cigar from Frias that I liked. Most of his cigars land in the $3 range. Conor could have worked with great blenders. Why did he choose Frias…it makes McGregor’s Notorious Cigars webpage even more laughable.

The cigar is in a serious state of de-evolution. I have a decent palate, and I can taste it when a cigar may be smoked too early and needs a little more rest. I’m not getting any of those signals from the Notorious. Certainly, not ones I like. This cigar is a total bust. But I have a couple of inches to go. You guys don’t pay me enough…

The cigar was released 9 months ago, and I did not find a single written review. This means I will be the sole target of Conor. Oh shit…

I suppose that if you get smashed enough times in the face, this cigar might taste good. I never thought of that until now. The cigar has no flavors at all. It is like smoking a $2 Oliva 2nd.

I’m calling it. I toss the last inch and a half and light up a Crowned Heads Thunderkiss to cleanse my palate.

RATING: 77

Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS

Tags: cigar reviews, cigar reviews by the katman, cigars, conor mcgregor, katman, mj frias, Notorious by Conor McGregor | Cigar Reviews by the Katman, phil kohn