Wrapper: Nicaraguan
Binder: Nicaraguan
Filler: Nicaraguan ~ Aged 10 years
Size: 6.5 x 52 Toro – Box Pressed
Strength: Medium/Full
Price: $47.00

This is my first recap of 2026. I do it because I’m terminally lazy and sometimes, I don’t feel like writing. Over 16 years, I’ve written the equivalent of eleven books. Without a single book signing.

This review was originally published three years ago.

My cigars received 6 months of naked humidor time.
Rated 93 by Cigar Aficionado.
This blend debuted in 2014. It was only $40.

THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
Who doesn’t experience the shock and awe of a choral group and bright light when we hold a Padron in our paws. The shaking-of-the-hands as we bring the cigar up to our lips. And then the whoosh of emotions as the torch meets foot.

The cigar ain’t that purty. My astigmatism sees the dark side of the moon’s surface from eight nautical miles high. The aroma is not much better looking. This is one stinky snausage.

I use my indestructible PerfecPunch to remove the itty bit.

The cold draw is filled with dark chocolate notes, cinnamon, marzipan, spicy peppers, summer fruit, and woody cedar.

The draw is spontaneously combustible and needs no assistance from my PD tool.

I hear angels singing as I light the cigar. The dark chocolate is amplified. Very peppery with creamy nougat overtones. The Padron is off and running.

Within the first puffs, there are very serious complex notes. When you need to wait years for a cigar to mature properly in your humidor, do you make sure you have an advanced directive? My cigars will go to a charity called Monkey Helpers. Simians are trained and then given to people with spinal cord injuries. If you’re a monkey always opening a door for someone, wouldn’t you need a smoke break?

So, I’m getting a BJ. Her husband walks in. I nonchalantly remove her panties from my head. I sit straight up. My wiener droops like the U.N. flag during singing of its 17-minute musical anthem. I hand the husband a $20. I almost get out the door when I hear, “You want change?” True story.

Creaminess, black cherries, and a push of summer fruit sweetness are engaged.
Strength is easy going the first couple of inches. I am resplendent in naivete as I choose to ignore what’s coming. Bust my balls? No thanks.

I can’t think of another brand in which I always make sure that the cigar band is facing up when it is sitting in my ashtray. It warms the narglies and the tip of my cone.

The cigar is earthily sweet and smells like a nicely formed lump of coal. Speaking of Christmas, have you bought your 43” TV from Amazon yet? Speaking of delectable treats, I shaved my balls last night. I simply woke up at 3am and decided it was time. I believe they will heal nicely.

Transitions are smooth. I sense a happy ending in store for both me and the cigar. I dig my heels in. My lips are pursed. My loins self-gird. A jungle rhythm is playing in my brain. Earwax melts and runs down my leg. A lemon miraculously appears. Led Zep disbanded decades ago. Where was I? Dunno. I showed up unexpectedly.

The natural sweetness of the leaves is unambiguous. Balance is perfect. The fruitiness is complemented in an event horizon of woody and mushroom-like savory components. Vanilla chop suey with a side of café au lait. This is fucking great. Fooking great.

Nuttiness includes the three tenors of almond (Tito), cashew (Jermaine), and raw pumpkin seeds (Michael).

A honey element takes over the sweetness category. The transitional stages continue their exquisite journey that only TikTok influencers can enunciate properly. I don’t need no stinkin’ Gen Z kid to show me how to properly apply body lotion. I grew up with Lubriderm next to my rack.

I swear I can taste the 10 years of aging. Or can I?

The peppery notes are sublime. They give the cigar some punch without overwhelming. Black licorice seeps in like the loving cold nose of your rabid ferret.

Nicotine creep. Floral notes are received. A touch of grapefruit. Chocolate covered raisins. Ethiopian coffee with cream. And French toast dusted with powdered sugar. Not a flavor bomb.

The removal of the cigar band. Surprise. It is not the usual Padron double band we have a love/hate relationship with.

The weight of the cigar is deceiving. Light as a feather. But the retardation of the burn is remarkably slow and controlled. Every once in a while, I get to smoke a grown-up cigar. A manly thing. With manly desires. Like being able to take a dump without screaming for mommy.

Because the world is round. And love is new. I remember when I was young. And my balls were blue. Thank you very much.

In the middle of negotiations, you break down. Go ahead. Try to find a discount on this cigar.

The second half sees daylight after an hour and 15 minutes. Magnificent things await. The richness quotient will multiply. The cigar is transformed. The moonscape melts away as the strength becomes nuclear. Medium/full my arse. This baby is going for Three Mile Island.

Coffee and cream, dark muscular chocolate, licorice nuts, honey and apricots, nougaty cinnamon, vanilla mushrooms, and strawberry alarm clock. Guess which set of adjectives/nouns was not a 1960’s band.

You ever find polythene in your urine? Me neither.

Copeland and I smoked lots of hash as we told each other we would be in bands together forever.

I wrote all 30 scenes for the Eddie Munster music video in 20 minutes, the night before the shoot. Fight or flight.

Everything you want from a cigar is at hand. Chocolate meltaway transitions, complexity, richness, depth, motility, subgum, and Nixon’s 18 minutes.

Sure. The inevitable strength will bend your peenut backwards and into your belly button. But you know this going in with any fine Padron choice.

This is fun. Stop smoking. Take a break. Give your palate a time-out. 20 minutes. My palate is refreshed, and flavors have an intensity that were not there when I put the cigar down for a nap. It is easy to fry your tastebuds after an hour or longer puffing on a burning shrub.

With only 2” to go, the flavor points burrow like a Jewish marmot running from smoked whitefish. Did you know that Red Lobster was bought by B’nai B’rith for only $12,400 thousand dollars? True dat.

I’m nubbing.

A $47 cigar is nuts. Sure, I had a good time. For that dough, I could have gone to a Vietnamese massage parlor, a coffee enema salon, the 2024 Butt Plug Convention in Skokie Illinois, bought Tijuana’s Best of Donkey Love DVD, Butt-Hole in a Can Incense, a harness for my pet chicken Luke, a lunchbox that says Human Organ, the Judgmental Self-Help Book, bacon scented mustache wax, or Play-Doh that smells like mom’s jeans.

RATING: 96

Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS

Tags: cigar reviews, cigar reviews by the katman, cigars, katman, Katman Rekap ~ Padrón 50th Anniversary Maduro | Cigar Reviews by the Katman, padron cigars, phil kohn