Wrapper: Ecuadorian Sumatra seed
Binder: Ecuadorian
Filler: Colombian, Dominican, Nicaraguan
Size: 5.75 x 54 Toro
Strength: Medium/Full
Price: $30.00
Date Released: April 2025
Quantity Released: 700 boxes of 15
Factory: La Aurora, Dominican Republic
BACKGROUND:
The wrapper, binder, and filler leaves are aged 12 years. The rolled cigars are then aged another year.
Hors d’ Age translates to “Beyond Age.”
The blend has seen a limited release every year since 2018.
The press release states that only 700 boxes were released but my box has a brass plate that says ‘0051 of 2000.’
THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
We can’t afford this cigar. But there are 43 of you that can. I rarely beg but when I do, Alex Gougher at Cigar Page steps up. In the snail trail of fascination caused by my La Aurora binge of late, I saw something in my crawl about this cigar. When I saw the price, I nearly coughed up my nutsack dangling at my ankles and pushed it through my nostrils. When I received the cigars, my balls settled into Creamsicle mode as the box has the most beautiful artwork of recent memory. And since I’m 76, my memory only goes back three days. I smoked two before I got here. I blew the first one, and not in a good way. I failed to check the humidity, so as I sucked harder than Pam Bondi underneath the Resolute desk, the cigar put me through the damnation part of the bible. Nothing. Only then did I use my Humidimeter and discovered a shocking 84%. I dry boxed my second cigar for 24 hours and it came in at a user friendly 65%. I spent the entire morning smoking this cigar and eschewing my morning gruel. Did I just pull a Bondi? A phrase that I believe should be put into the American lexicon.
I normally allow a few months for a cigar to settle but this time, I did not allow the usual home detention because the tobacco was aged for a dozen years and then another year in the box. This causes shock and awe prior to paw meeting stick.
The taste of aging is different in every cigar. It is the most elusive exigent circumstance for a reviewer outside of cigar social media. I shall try to describe it, but I warn you that if I knew how to put two sentences together, Readers Digest would be clawing at my door.
This is a pretty cigar with a brindle coloration. It feels solid. I do the cigar hand shuffle where I let the cigar reach zero gravity over and over watching it as it bounces in my palm. And then mobilize the short distance from mitt to schnoz and discover that aromas are nominal, which must be due to the decade plus 2 years of pre-rolling sleep on the leaves. The bouquet moves inward which is the secret desire of pirate wenches and cigar junkies. But when the nose skates up and down the shaft like a ferret on a cupcake, I find notes of soft floral, salty caramel, foamy cream while the foot gives off a bit of greenery in the form of bell pepper and mint.
My PerfecPunch digs its sharp circularity into the cap, and the cold draw is a bit of the same as the aromas with the addition of citrus, cedar, and red pepper.
I gear up the industrial fans and air purifiers. I strap on my manopause Maxipad and grab my Dupont lighter.
My first cigar took almost an inch to kick in. Using the Dewey Decimal System, that was $5. But oh, the attention gathering smoke…it curls and weaves beautifully. Did I smoke a J? Not yet. A gorgeous creamy caramel with overtones of sweet floral is immediate and highly satisfying. There is rich earthiness that makes me hope that this is just the start of something spectacular. And there, I just proved it…” rich earthiness.” How bland is that? I could use a Thesaurus for phrases. I should have said that the cigar is earthy and voluptuous. Or bawdy and raunchy. But it still does not convey the experience of rich earthiness.
Construction is eminent domain. A sharp crispiness to the char line impresses. My previous cigar behaved brilliantly. This one is a replicant. But it’s early. I know where this is going because I’ve smoked cigars for 60 years and one picks up shit along the way. Truth be told, you don’t need to be as old as dirt to know shit. It helps, but not necessary.
Sammy the Cat hates cigars. As soon as he sees one in my hand, he skedaddles like a shot. But the Hors d’ Age does not offend as he is lying next to me on his Egyptian pharaoh sofa (the modern version has holders for the palm fronds). I check for bloodshot eyes and a half-eaten Doritos bag.
The dance of cigar blend meets brain begins with citrus, cinnamon, roasted almonds, black coffee, and thick creaminess. The rich earthiness tells me in Esperanto that I’m a dolt. I nod. I redeploy to the next phase of the stick.
I’ve now smoked an inch. At this rate, I will exceed my 3500-word limit by 3500 words. I have no idea why Cigar Aficionado won’t hire me. I could write about fancy cigar lounges that won’t allow me in or fancy cigar spas that require a suite and tie. Of course, if they find out I’m a Jew, I will be asked to enter the facility marked “Colored Only.”
Oh no, a mild anise note. Didn’t expect that and I don’t remember if from the previous smoke. It enhances everything. This is truly a grownup cigar for men with perfect handkerchiefs. I never understood why girls had nothing to do with me the moment they saw me blow my nose with a snot rag in high school. My mother was of German descent and dictated my Germanic way of doing things. But her high school days were during WWII. I wonder if Americans sent cigars to the troops. Were troops willing to give away their frontline position by opening a new case of Rum Crooks? The Department of War probably nixed the gesture.
I’m finishing the first half. I’m delirious and overwrought. Normally, I’m under wrought because the number one way for old people to die is falling. Though, falling in love with this cigar is peachy dandy. I will never give one of these cigars to a single soul. I am a selfish man. Ask Sammy. His opposable claws are tapping morse code on my scrotal region, but he doesn’t know that I haven’t had feeling there since Charlotte mistook them for gunny sacks. I interrupt Sam using his native language of KlingonKat. Maine Coons were originally from Tabasco, Mexico but 18th century ICE agents chased them out.
Strength is medium. Some sites call it out as medium/full which is why I chose to light up and review after dinner. It cuts through the pizza like a dream. A medium pizza was $28. Sure, gas prices are down, but I bet the president doesn’t order out for pizza.
Lots of floral. Both in taste and a piquant aroma. It’s amazing. So, I leave the confines of my cave and travel 12 miles to Lake Michigan where I left my PerfecDraw while ice fishing. No, not the illegal kind that will get you shot in the head 15 times.
A sweet fruitiness with mild honey overtones begins. It is one of many layers that gives the experience a baklava theme.
The char line is perfect. My one criticism is that my previous cigar saw burn issues. They were fixable but I don’t like adding unwarranted fire to an innocent burning bush.
The coffee is brilliant. How do they do that? Folks who don’t smoke cigars think our filthy habit is just an extension of cigarette smoking. How do you explain without bursting into flames that they are polar opposites. It doesn’t help that we stink all the time.
This is one of the best cigars I’ve smoked. It’s better than 90% of Cubans. It’s superior to 90% of other expensive cigars. This will make my very last katman top 25 list.
The second half awaits in sexy mode. It teases. I tap my cranium pan containing sycophantic brain snapping cells to alert it to pay attention. I’m going in…
The depth is a mile long and eight miles high. Its complexity coats my palate like a speeding ticket covered in my tears for going 43 in a 30 zone.
The cigar band is removed. The wrapper is not disturbed. Speaking of disturbed, I’ve been invited to an open mic at the South Shore Yacht Club in Milwaukee. I can’t sing so I chose to do a bit about my 25th birthday in London when Stewart Copeland gave me a hearty dose of LSD. It was a crazy night that lasted until daylight. I chose this in case I’m invited on stage when Copeland lands in Milwaukee this summer on his talking tour. I’ve already been in contact with Stewart and his manager. But anything can change and I haven’t spoken in public in a long time, so I want to see if I choke in the spotlight.
I get why some sites describe the blend as medium/full in strength. It hits me like a ton of bricks. I got my swoon on. It is not nicotine so I guess it’s a corojo in the Nicaraguan leaves.
The usual timeline for my reviews is 4-5 minutes. I’m now in the 7–8-minute time frame. I better stop. This is not a morning cigar despite the first half being easy going. The second half gets down and serious. It’s a great cigar blend full of surprising content. A special cigar worthy of your dough.
$30 is crazy unless you live in the European Union, Estonia, Latvia, or any other country that ends in double vowels. Cigar Page is selling a box for $357.75 or $23.85 per cigar. You can purchase a fiver for $127.50 or $25.50. My hero, Alex the Bituminous, stepped up with a 10% promo code HORS10. This gets you a savings of roughly $2.50 per cigar. Every little bit helps. $20 for a $30 stick beats a poke in the crotch. But then it is generally where I prefer a poke, a smash, or a bukkake.
RATING: 98
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Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS
I bought the Family Creed a couple of weeks ago. I’ve had 2 and they were great. Couldn’t turn this deal down either, just bought a 5’er.
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