Wrapper: Arapiraca / Brazil: Undisclosed
Binder: Corojo / Nicaragua: Undisclosed
Filler: Cuban-seed / Dominican Republic (?): Criollo ’98, Criollo 2020
Size: Toro (6 X 56)
Strength: Medium → Medium-Plus
Body: Medium → Full
Price: $13.50
Factory: Tabacalera La iSLA, Dominican Republic
Blender: Undisclosed
Release: 2025 Refreshed Core Line (Regular Production)
Smoking Time: 1:55
Experience Rating: 98
I’m on a mission to review the entire Cayman Cigars portfolio.
My local shop had an event there a few days ago, and I purchased samples from each of their offerings. I just reviewed the Sovereign II and am now on to the Monarch. My plan is to smoke the Dominican lineup first, then move to the Nicaraguan side of the house.
I love what Cayman is doing with its portfolio. Unlike some boutique outfits that launch with a broad portfolio, Cayman is taking a deliberate, focused approach to its releases. Each blend is meant to fill a specific gap in expression.
That’s not without risks. The blends have to be good. But I’ve already smoked the entire core lineup, and I can confidently say they have nothing to worry about. Which brings me to the Monarch.
This cigar blew me away.
While not bold, it wasn’t short on identity. To me, Dominican cigars tend to drift and meander with their profiles. That’s not a bad thing, but I usually find it difficult to nail down what they’re about. Not so with the Monarch. It told me who it was the moment I lit it.
Like the rest of the portfolio, the Monarch is a study in understated elegance. From the gold-edged double bands to the smooth wrapper with just a few veins, its visual presentation conveys confidence.
The wrapper aroma is rich with damp, freshly dug earth, a touch of barnyard, and a faint floral quality. The foot has bread with a little barnyard, but a pronounced fragrance of dried apricot. The cold draw has more bread and a surprising umami. Nice.
Once lit, the cigar plants a stake in the ground with earth, espresso, and roasted nuts. Strength and body are medium right away, and spice is but an afterthought. The Brazilian Arapiraca provides an exotic woody aroma from the foot. I can’t help but wave the cigar slowly under my nose to take it all in.
As the cigar settles in, a dark, overripe Bing cherry appears. It’s not sweet, but it’s luscious. Earth establishes itself as the core, while the espresso and cherry wrap around it. The spice slightly asserts itself, moving to the top of my palate. At this point, it’s clear that the cigar’s focus is on establishing a solid structure.
And like the Sovereign II, while it’s not complex at this point, I can sense an underlying energy in the profile just waiting to be released.
As I progress, I get a surprising hit of nougat. Cream arrives and wraps around the core, softening the earth, lightening the coffee, and allowing the cherry to express itself. The spice still has a featherlight touch and only shows up on the finish, but it helps tug the profile upward.
Then flavors start accumulating, like guests arriving at a party.
Cedar, white pepper, honeysuckle, sourdough, dark toffee, mushroom umami, and malt enter and begin to cycle before the core. I’m reminded of the masquerade ball from The Man in the Iron Mask, where Louis (the core) sits at his throne while the guests (accumulated flavors) dance in front of him.
So much energy.
But it’s different from the Sovereign II. That cigar was a cool James Dean with his Wayfarers, cruising down the PCH. The Monarch’s energy is expressly royal. It’s firmly planted, just checkin’ out the scene. But both say the same thing: I’ve got nothing to prove.
Halfway in, the masquerade ball continues. Coffee moves forward as new guests arrive: a slight, prickly minerality shows up on the finish, reminding me of a prissy noble entering a room, and a gorgeous, velvety vanilla crème that flirts with the core.
And the ball continues.
In the home stretch, the room seems to be full. The core then compresses slightly and stands up as the coffee, earth, and cherry move forward in the profile. The cream is like a cape, draping over the core’s shoulders.
The spice asserts itself and moves forward like a court chamberlain demanding everyone’s attention. The cycling pauses momentarily as the vanilla crème joins the core, like a Monarch stepping onto the dance floor, accompanied by his companion.
Then the core starts to dance.
The accumulated flavors return to their dance around the core, but it, too, is moving through the crowd. Now everything is in motion.
In the last couple of inches, the profile intensifies, and the movement increases in tempo. Strength inches just past medium, while the body becomes full. The spice steps aside. It’s still present, but seems to have gone back to its place after making its announcement.
An indistinct sweetness arrives, changing the mood to an upbeat, lively one, as if the music has shifted to a Viennese waltz. The movement is fast but fluid and graceful.
The ball is in full swing.
The profile continues to intensify and compress, like a crowded dance floor. And still, everything rotates around the core letting it go where it will.
Strength is now medium-plus, and the body is full. Amazingly enough, there has been no nicotine up to this point to drag the profile downward.
In the last inch, the spice steps forward once again, this time, a little more assertive. The tempo slows, and the core sits down again. The other flavors are no longer dancing, but they’re milling around, like guests chit-chatting.
The vanilla crème seems to walk away and fade into the distance, leaving the room. My mischievous self thinks the king may have other plans for her later.
Then the spice asserts itself once again, and the cycling flavors begin to leave the room as if the chamberlain is announcing the end of the ball. Then the spice creates tension with the core, like a chamberlain fussing over his king.
The core thickens and compresses, then sits up. It’s a regal gesture: solid, stoic, and firm to the end. It refuses to collapse. The background sweetness becomes a little more prominent.
Like the monarch thoroughly satisfied with himself.
I don’t often use visual metaphors, but this one earned it.
The Monarch’s profile has a genuine narrative arc — a beginning, a middle, and an end — with characters that enter, develop, and resolve. That’s not something you impose on a cigar. Either the blend gives you that structure or it doesn’t. This one did.
That’s a blending achievement. Whoever built this at Tabacalera La Isla engineered a cigar that moves with intention. The core never wavers. Everything orbits it. And when it finally steps off the throne, the room is already full and waiting.
You can buy these at CigarsCity.com. A five-pack is a steal at $47.99. Or check the Cayman Cigars retailer page for a B&M in your area.
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