Unco B's Stogie Diary

Wrapper: Ecuadorian Habano Maduro
Binder: Nicaraguan, Estelí
Filler: Nicaraguan long-fillers, aged up to 14 years
Size: Toro (6 x 54)
Strength/Body: Medium-plus → Full/Medium → Full
Price: ~$13.00
Factory: Lanuza Cigars, Estelí, Nicaragua
Blender: Raul Lanuza
Release: Privada Cigar Club / limited Maduro release
Experience Rating: 100

There are certain blenders whose work I’ve become enamored with lately.

One of those is Raul Lanuza.

Ever since I discovered he blended the LCA Super Sea Monkeys, I’ve been paying close attention to his work. That attention sharpened after I learned he also co-blends and produces the incredible Dunamis Dominion.

And interestingly enough, two of the three cigars I’ve rated 100 have been produced by Raul Lanuza.

That’s not an accident.

His approach to blending jibes with practically everything I look for in a great cigar. His cigars don’t just present flavor. They move. They organize themselves around structure, texture, tension, and identity. Even when they flirt with chaos, as the Super Sea Monkeys did, there’s intent underneath it.

And intention is the key to understanding Raul Lanuza’s cigars. Every time I finish one of his cigars, I feel like I get it, like the cigar told the story of what he was trying to accomplish. It’s one thing to talk about what a cigar was made to do. It’s something else entirely for the cigar to live up to it.

Privada’s marketing copy reads: “Lanuza Maduro embodies Privada’s emphasis on aged depth and narrative-rich profiles. It offers a beautifully crafted Maduro experience seasoned by years of maturation—a boutique standout that rewards mindful enjoyment.”

Fourteen-year-old filler tobacco.

That sounds a lot like the aged tobacco in the La Aurora Small Batch. But unlike the Small Batch, not all of the tobaccos here are aged that long, which leaves room for movement.

And the Lanuza Maduro moves in a way I’ve never experienced.

Inspecting the cigar, the wrapper is a dark Colorado with a rustic texture. The cigar is tightly packed and has heft. The wrapper and foot aromas don’t reveal much: hay, cedar, and dried apricot on the wrapper, and yeasty bread and dried plum on the foot. The cold draw takes me by surprise, leading with a touch of nutmeg, then a hit of panettone! I drew a few times to confirm.

Once lit, the cigar signals from the first puff that I was in for a ride. It’s like Samuel L. Jackson in Jurassic Park announcing to the riders, “Hang on to your butts!” The cigar erupts with a blast of flavors: stone fruit, cocoa, cedar, coffee, roasted nuts, cinnamon roll, sourdough, caramel, nougat, baking spices, and vanilla cream. They accumulate, then begin to lazily cycle.

That’s just the first inch.

As the cigar settles in, the transitions cease, as if it is catching its breath. Strength kicks up to medium-plus, though the body is still a solid medium. Nicotine makes its presence known, but doesn’t take over.

Then the profile compresses into a core with the usual Nicaraguan suspects: espresso, black pepper, charred cedar, and cocoa powder. Spice emerges and floats above the profile, while a thick cream smooths it out. This feels as if the cigar is preparing me for another onslaught.

But it doesn’t happen.

Instead, I’m ambushed by a savory transition as soy sauce, charred meat, mushroom umami, and teak appear. Rich beef tallow seems to mix with the cream, creating a luxurious mouthfeel.

And just as I’m getting over my surprise, the cigar transitions again to a dark, sweet character of molasses, brown sugar, overripe stone fruit, and baking spices.

The core and the cream persist, anchoring the profile. They feel more and more like its structural center, the fixed point that makes all of this movement possible.

Another savory transition happens with grilled meat, steamed artichoke, salt, and Asian yum-yum (msg). This is followed by yet another sweet transition of Fruit Loops, sweet baking spices, cinnamon, and strawberry jam.

I immediately think, Is Raul fucking with me?

I feel as if I’m watching a Bian Lian performer switch masks. And like anyone watching a Bian Lian performance, I wonder, How the hell does he do that?

As if on cue, as I reach the halfway point, the Bian Lian mask-switching stops. It feels like the cigar is taking another breather as the profile slightly compresses, intensifying the core flavors. The cream continues to thicken, with a meaty silkiness reminiscent of beef stock rich in collagen.

Amazingly, the strength drops back to medium. Spice intensifies and continues to hover above the profile.

Then gentle waves of flavor roll in: grape jelly, baking spices, stone fruit, roses, dark molasses, toffee, sweet black bread, and fennel. As with the flavors at ignition, they accumulate and cycle. The fennel is amazing. Some might call it anise, but it has no heat.

The slow, steady rhythm of the waves feels like the cigar giving me a rest after all that frenetic activity.

In the home stretch, the slow transitions continue, and I sense a shift in the profile as it compresses yet again. But despite the compression, it remains articulate and structured. The spice intensifies and moves forward, this time providing a little pull against the profile.

I see now that the collagen-laced cream is the functional center of the profile. It has provided the textural base that has made all the transitions possible. And like the core, it also provides critical structure.

In the last couple of inches, the core begins to lean dark. Espresso thickens and intensifies, as do the black pepper and cocoa powder. The charred cedar seems darker.

Just when I think the core is going to become dense and muddy, dark peanut brittle appears and attaches to it, keeping it from collapsing in on itself. The spice begins to pulse, providing more structural tension.

Then I hit another sweet spot.

It’s like I just bit into a s’more resplendent with graham cracker, marshmallow, and Hershey’s chocolate, the only chocolate you should use for s’mores, by the way. I smile, thinking, Is Raul going to fuck with me again?

The answer is yes, because in the last inch, the spice suddenly backs off. Panettone arrives again: yeasty sweet bread, currants, lemon zest, and caramelized sugar. And it doesn’t stop there, as the profile transitions to a freakin’ steak au poivre with grilled steak, thick demi-glace, and green and black peppercorns. These ping-pong back and forth a few times.

The transitions finally stop at the nub, when the strength goes back to medium-plus, and the body becomes full.

And as with the Southern Draw Manzanita, I’m spent.

By the time you get to the last inch of most cigars, they’re usually content to back off and provide some respite. Cigars like this and the Manzanita are different. They remind me of a Jack Nicklaus-designed golf course. Most courses ease up by the 17th hole. A Nicklaus course makes you work to the end.

But it’s so satisfying once you finish.

And I’m completely satisfied.

The most amazing thing about this cigar was that it never showed any sharp edges. Even with all the Bian Lian mask-switching, it remained composed and structurally sound. To me, that kind of control can only come from an extraordinary amount of intention.

The Lanuza Maduro kept changing faces, moving from sweet to savory, from waves to compression, from spectacle to focus, but the core never disappeared, and the cream never stopped holding everything together. That is what separates movement from chaos. This cigar didn’t change because it was losing control.

It was designed to enable those changes.