Wrapper: Connecticut
Binder: Undisclosed
Filler: Undisclosed
Size: 6 x 50 (Toro)
Strength: Mild to Medium+
Price: TBD
Factory: Undisclosed
Blender: Undisclosed
Release Date: ~June 2026
Experience Rating: 97
Didn’t I mention I don’t like Connies?
Yet here’s another one I absolutely loved.
This one comes from a brand-new company, Attaie (pr, ah-tie) Cigars, founded by Samay Attaie. I met Sam a couple of nights ago at a local lounge while discussing cigar reviews with Luis Barragan of Dunamis Cigars. They’re working together, and both happened to be there, so I walked away with samples from each.
Attaie Cigars doesn’t officially release until early June, but I reached out to Sam for an early look and he gave me the green light.
The cigar is gorgeous. At first glance, the wrapper looks like an Ecuador Habano with its light brown hue. The skin is smooth, with some veins and barely visible seams. The double band, white-and-gold-on-teal, is understated and elegant. It lines up with where Sam wants to take the brand without trying too hard.
The wrapper and foot are fairly quiet, offering hay, earth, and a hint of sweetness. The cold draw is reminiscent of shortbread cookies and holds back everything else. The cigar has heft and is tightly packed, but the draw is ideal with the perfect amount of resistance.
It’s a mild start.
A gentle hit of cedar and oak, accompanied by the lightest touch of spice. The texture is immediately creamy with a hint of sweetness. It’s a classic mild Dominican or Cuban start: smooth, refined, and composed, if a little soft. Even so, there’s something in the smoke that suggests more is coming.
As it settles in, a gentle wave of complexity rolls in: baking spices, nutmeg, hazelnut, sourdough, cedar, and shortbread. Spice ticks up in intensity and seems foundational with the cream. I get a strong hit of nicotine, but it quickly subsides.
At this point, the cigar is starting to show its Dominican roots. I expect it to stay refined and smooth, moving from place to place without much direction. That’s not a knock. It’s just different from the linear progression I’m used to in Nicaraguans.
Then I retrohale.
Not on purpose. Just a little smoke slipping through my nose. I don’t usually do it because it messes with my sinuses, but this is mild enough. And just like that, everything opens up.
Another wave of complexity rolls in as flavors start to accumulate: shortbread, graham cracker, citrusy sweetness, floral notes, sourdough toast, charred oak, orange peel, and cashew. These sit atop the creamy foundation, while the spice encircles the profile.
About two inches in, a savory turn: soy sauce, teriyaki, a little barbecue, and something like a flat white. The spice asserts itself a bit more. Shortbread and sourdough show up again, which makes me think they’re structural rather than passing through.
Fifty-five minutes in, I hit the halfway point. The way the cigar has behaved up to this point feels like I’m looking at a Jackson Pollock painting. It looks like random splotches on a canvas, but there’s a cohesiveness and uncanny organization that pulls you in. It doesn’t tell you what it is. It leaves the interpretation to you.
By now, the cream reads like the canvas, with the spice framing it.
Another shift. This time, sweet notes: strawberry jelly, more orange peel, and a floral quality. The shortbread and sourdough follow again. By now, it’s clear they aren’t passing through. They’re part of the canvas.
In the home stretch, a citrus phase emerges with orange peel and a light, sweet lime pulp, like what floats in a mojito or a caipirinha. Shortbread and sourdough stay in place with the cream.
The spice begins to pulse from puff to puff, rising and falling in intensity.
In the last couple of inches, the foundation starts to resolve. The cream takes on a malty edge. Sourdough resolves into a sweet, yeasty bread. The shortbread holds steady.
Another turn. The citrus recedes, and hazelnut, cashew, and almond step forward. On the finish, Maytag blue cheese shows up out of nowhere. I take another puff to confirm. It’s there.
In the last inch, the spice stabilizes after pulsing and ticks up, settling mid-palate while still framing the profile. The cigar darkens slightly. The sweet bread turns toasted, and molasses and a flinty minerality join the finish, accented by black coffee. A mild red ginger note shows up on the retro.
The foundation compresses but doesn’t collapse, even down to the nub.
At the nub, another turn: grapefruit, lemon peel, and charred cedar. The spice is gone.
The cigar finishes as refined as it started.
The Pollock metaphor holds. What felt like transitions are really shifts in focus, like moving from one part of a painting to another. Pull back, and it’s all there at once.
If this cigar is any indication, I’m looking forward to the rest of the line.
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