Wrapper: Maduro (specific tobacco undisclosed)
Binder: Undisclosed
Filler: Undisclosed
Size: 5 × 54 Robusto
Strength: medium → medium-plus
Body: medium → full
Price: $10.00
Factory: Undisclosed
Blender: Undisclosed
Release: 2026
Smoking Time: 1:35
I got my monthly Rare Box allotment from Privada last week, and tucked in with it was a bonus cigar, the Baby Billy Bonkers. Where Brian and his team come up with these goofy names is beyond me. Luckily, I’ve generally had good experiences with Privada/LCA smokes, despite all the ridiculousness that surrounds them.
You probably noticed from the stats block that everything about this cigar is undisclosed except for the size and the Maduro designation. Even that doesn’t tell me much. The cigar I have in my possession is nowhere near as dark as the one shown on Privada’s product page, which looks like it’s edging toward Oscuro territory.
So, given the lack of information about this cigar and the visible discrepancy between what I have and what Privada displays, I’m going to do something different with this review.
I’m going to write it as I smoke it.
Normally, I take notes in outline form. I record measurements of strength, body, and activity at specific points, along with the flavors, impressions, and whatever else occurs to me while I’m smoking. What you eventually read is largely a transcription of those notes. This time, I’m skipping that intermediate step.
You’re getting the cigar as I’m getting it.
The cigar appears to be well-constructed. It’s densely packed and feels firm, with just a little give when I gently squeeze it. The wrapper is rustic, with a few prominent veins running along the surface. There are no obvious seams along the body, and the cap at the head is neatly applied.
Some people want to see an absolutely smooth skin and will dock points because a cigar looks a little rustic. At least for me, as long as the veins don’t create issues with the burn, it’s all good. For fuck’s sake! Tobacco is an agricultural product. Expecting perfection is like wanting to date Charlize Theron. It ain’t gonna happen, so deal with it.
Was that my outside voice?
The wrapper has a sweet floral aroma with a touch of mustiness. I don’t detect any barnyard, which makes me think it just might be there, but maybe I’ve smelled it so often that my mind is filtering it out, just like when you can no longer hear an accent. The foot smells like a bowl of fresh-cut peaches.
I punch-cut the head. The draw is a little looser than I prefer, but at least it’s not like drawing through a straw. It tastes like I’m eating a bowl of Cheerios with some fresh strawberries.
I light it up, and it’s immediately pleasing, with notes of cedar, vanilla, nutmeg, and a hint of allspice.
Impressive start.
About half an inch in, coffee finally shows up and immediately attaches itself to the nutmeg. That’s an interesting move. I take another puff, and buttered sourdough enters with thick cream.
I can feel a structure forming. But my sense is that the cigar is still organizing itself.
About an inch in, I get the distinct taste of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I used to love eating that for breakfast as a kid! I love how cigars can dig up memories. I can see myself standing at my mom’s yellow Formica counter, shoveling it down in a rush before piling into her Rambler Ambassador station wagon to go to school.
Oh my gawd! That Rambler Ambassador. I had some good times in that car. My family took it up and down the West Coast, from Washington to San Diego. Then, when I turned 16, my dad said I could have the car as long as I kept it tuned up.
Actually, it meant I had to make sure all our cars were tuned up. But that was okay with me. I had a set of wheels, and I used to wear an obnoxious straw hat when I drove that car. Pussy wagon it was not, but it got my buddies and me from Point A to Point B, often in an inebriated state.
And yes, having a station wagon did have its advantages. I’ll leave it at that.
Cinnabon, anyone? I just did a light retrohale and got a heavy dose of its gooey goodness.
Strength and body are a solid medium at this point, and the burn is reasonably straight. It gets slightly wavy at times but corrects itself nicely.
Shit. I got so caught up in my memories the cigar almost went out. I apply a helpful flame with my trusty torch, and all is back to normal.
I’m at the halfway point now, and I have to be honest. This is a damn good cigar. It’s not super, super complex. But the fact that the profile is triggering some great memories is definitely a huge point in its favor.
And speaking of flavors, it gives you the standard set of coffee, cedar, and cream. Layered over those are baking spices, caramel, vanilla, honey, and some fruity elements. The spice sensation has been minimal through the first half, but what is there feels almost effervescent, like drinking a Perrier.
This is a bright-leaning profile.
Maduro? Pah. This ain’t no stinkin’ Maduro. It’s smoking like a well-behaved, well-mannered Habano. But I’m not going to punish it for not being a Maduro. It’s too fucking good.
Strength and body haven’t moved a muscle the entire smoke. I’m into the home stretch now, and they’re just sitting where they’re at like an old couple on a park bench watching their grandkids play.
Damn! I just realized that’s gonna be me in a few years, with a new grandson and another due in just a couple of weeks.
As I near the final third, I get served a bowl of buttered popcorn, then grab a handful of Planters Mixed Nuts, all salty, nutty, and crunchy. I retrohale and laugh as the profile suddenly tastes like I’m drinking a Jarritos Lime soda.
But as soon as I get to the last third, the cigar starts smoking like a Maduro.
The profile takes a darker turn. Cedar chars deeply, coffee morphs into espresso, and the caramel thickens into molasses. Then I get slapped in the face by a pronounced hit of nicotine.
It reminds me of when I worked at Wendy’s in high school. I snuck up behind one of my female coworkers and tickled her. She turned around and walloped me with a slap that stung my fucking ancestors. And the look she gave me. Ouch. Our manager saw the whole thing, howled with laughter, and said, “I’d normally write you up for doing that, but I think you learned your lesson.”
Oh, I did.
The darker turn is certainly delicious. But it drives body to full and strength to medium-plus. That’s not necessarily bad, but the abruptness is a little unsettling.
Who the fuck likes to get slapped?
That said, something about the way this transition happens makes me wonder whether the abrupt change is intentional. As I’ve started to understand blending more, sudden changes like this intrigue me. I immediately start wondering whether something in the bunch construction is responsible for the effect.
But as fascinated as I am by the underlying construction, it still boils down to the experience. And despite getting slapped in the face, maybe I’m a little masochistic, but I kind of liked it.
It reminds me of Bradley Cooper in The A-Team, posing as a French journalist and spontaneously kissing another French journalist. She slaps him hard. His response? “Oo-la-la!” And he dives right back in.
Oo. La. Laaaaa.
I’m having fun with this cigar.
I’m down to the dregs now, and despite the slap of nicotine, which, by the way, receded in intensity almost as fast as it arrived, this has been an entirely pleasing experience.
I’m going to get a few more of these.
Total smoking time: 1:35
Rating: 93
Katman here: I decided to purchase a fiver based upon Brendan’s recommendation. You can purchase Baby Billy Bonkers from non-sponsor Privada Cigar Club HERE.
If you’d like to read more from Brendan Delumpa, visit Unco B’s Stogie Diary.
Discover more from
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS
I got my start into the world of cigars with Privada. Never disappointed once. I had to stop because the cigars were coming faster than I could smoke them.
LikeLike