Wrapper: Undisclosed / Honduras
Binder: Undisclosed
Filler: Undisclosed
Size: Box-Pressed Toro (6¼ x 54)
Strength: Medium → Full (nub)
Body: Medium-Minus → Full (last inch)
Price: $12.00 USD (United States)
Factory: Undisclosed, Honduras
Blender: Undisclosed
Release: Macaron Series Lemon (Limited Edition)
Smoking Time: 1:45
Experience Rating: 94
After smoking the Patisserie and Macaron Series Vanilla, I was really looking forward to the Lemon. I still don’t know who Monsieur Guillaume is, but the man must have impeccable taste. He may not have blended these cigars himself, but it’s clear he knew exactly what he wanted.
As I mentioned in the “Vanilla” review, Monsieur Guillaume created the Macaron Series to be dessert cigars. And based on the cigars I’ve smoked, they’ve lived up to his intent.
Which intrigues me even more.
I tend to be very particular about a cigar having a named blender and a factory because it tells me the brand is working with a known entity. There are so many white-label boutiques in the industry that I’m wary when I come across cigars that are more story than substance. I can deal with undisclosed blend stats. Lots of brands do this. But undisclosed everything makes me cautious.
Here’s how I see it. How do I know they’re not simply buying available stock? Or worse yet, how do I know they aren’t dressing up a factory overrun or a cheap bundle cigar?
While the Patisserie cigars were produced under contract, these feel more like commissions than white-label stock. There’s too much consistency of purpose across the series for me to believe Monsieur Guillaume simply chose a few cigars from a factory catalog and wrapped a story around them.
What he accomplished took time and significant investment.
And it makes sense. Privada reports that he’s a billionaire, and these cigars certainly feel like the work of someone who spent the time and money to have them created to his specifications.
Synopsis
Strength remains at medium through the progression before beginning a steady climb at halfway, reaching medium-plus in the last couple of inches and full at the nub. Body starts just under medium, settles at medium through the first half, then rises sharply in the home stretch before reaching full in the last inch. Activity begins low and increases only gradually through halfway, then spikes to high in the home stretch, remains there through the last inch, and drops sharply at the nub.
The light box press is even, and the cigar feels solid and densely packed. The mottled wrapper shows its age beneath a light sheen of oil, with tiny flecks of crystal scattered across the surface.
I have to hand it to Monsieur Guillaume: his wrappers never smell like barnyard. This one carries a delicious floral sweetness, fresh-baked sourdough bread, and a touch of earthiness. The foot is richer, offering stone fruit sweetness, crusty bread, dry earth, and grain.
The cold draw is a little grassy, with hay and fresh-cut cedar. Despite how densely packed the cigar feels, the draw is perfect, with just a light resistance.
The aroma off the foot is full of exotic tropical wood. The first puff brings light coffee, buttered dark toast, charred oak, and a touch of black pepper.
The body is fairly light to start. With a Honduran wrapper, I expected a little more richness, but that’s only an observation, not a complaint. Burnt brown-sugar sweetness emerges over the next few puffs, as a light spice slowly pulses on my tongue. A touch of citrus enters on the finish.
The spice, though light, is already pulling the profile forward.
The cigar settles quickly around a base of coffee, oak, leather, and black pepper. Sourdough, buttered toast, and citrus peel float above it.
There’s also a persistent meringue-like quality to the texture. Along with the citrus peel, it’s beginning to taste remarkably like a lemon macaron.
The body is starting to thicken, but the cigar remains relatively quiet. The light spice continues to tug at the profile, while the lemon macaron-like finish keeps my attention.
As I get deeper into the first half, everything about the cigar remains composed. There’s a confidence to the presentation, as though it knows exactly what it is and doesn’t need any frills or gimmicks.
Coffee begins to assert itself at the center, where it’s joined by a meringue-like texture. Dark-crusted bread takes the lead, followed by gorgeous roasted nuts: peanut, cashew, and almond.
There are no transitions yet, but I feel there’s more to it than I can see. Maybe it’s the confidence I mentioned earlier, though dignity may be the better word. There’s something beautiful about the profile that makes me want to just sit with it.
It doesn’t need much movement because it is truly delicious. Still, I can see how the lack of transitions might count against it. But its dignified simplicity makes it work for me right now.
Halfway in, the spice steps forward and pulses with more intensity, though it remains in the same relative position on my palate. The citrus has finally resolved into lemon. I didn’t want to commit to it earlier because the citrus was subtle and a little amorphous, but it’s unmistakably lemon now. The roasted nuts begin dancing through the profile as nicotine nudges the strength higher.
Then fried egg appears. That’s a surprise, but it’s unmistakable.
Like every other Patisserie I’ve smoked, the burn line remains razor straight.
At this point, I can sense a subtle shift in the profile, as if something is about to happen. But I’ve had many smokes that seemed to be on the verge of breaking out, sometimes for the entire smoke, and failed to do anything.
I’ll just have to wait and see.
In the home stretch, the whole profile begins taking a darker, sweeter turn, but there’s no compression at all. A bright minerality enters on the finish and settles mid-tongue before resolving into bitter melon, then cucumber. That’s very interesting behavior.
It reminds me of two close friends sitting together. They’ve known each other for years, so they don’t need to say much. Just when things might get a little boring, one of them says something. They discuss it briefly, then go back to enjoying each other’s company.
As delicious as this is—and it really is delicious—there still isn’t much going on beyond those occasional breaks. The saving grace is that the cigar isn’t drifting. It remains structural, refined, and organized. But this may be one of those situations where refinement becomes a little too much.
I spoke too soon.
The spice suddenly moves to the roof of my mouth, followed by cheesy, savory notes of Maytag blue cheese, shiitake mushroom, and soy sauce. The roasted nuts return, pulling the spice back down and tangling with it on my tongue before relenting and letting it rise again. The energy is climbing quickly. Maybe the two friends have started bantering.
The profile begins thickening as the bitter melon-to-cucumber sequence repeats. Floral notes appear on the finish, and the draw tightens slightly, making me work a little harder, but each pull rewards me with thick, rich smoke. Nougat appears on the retrohale with a light red pepper spice, while cream moves into the core.
Now the transitions are coming constantly from puff to puff: bread and grain, roasted nuts, bitter melon and cucumber, savory umami, and burnt sugar. It’s a sudden explosion of complexity and activity. Even the spice is moving, bouncing between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. The cigar spent nearly 45 minutes cruising along, unassuming and mellow. Now it’s bursting with energy.
I almost can’t keep up with all the activity.
Into the last couple of inches, the transitions continue as strength keeps pushing upward. Honey and florals join the fray, while the smoke off the foot is redolent with roasted nuts and a fruity sweetness.
The cigar is running at very high energy now, a sharp contrast to the mellow, almost mild first half. Patience definitely has its rewards here, and it needs to. The first half alone took nearly 45 minutes, and I was beginning to doubt anything significant would happen.
The profile begins to compress, but it remains articulate. Spice asserts itself more forcefully as it continues bouncing around my mouth. Coffee darkens into espresso, while the oak takes on the smell of a barbecue smoker. Nicotine picks up, but never becomes overwhelming.
As I get to the last inch, the spice becomes pronounced without turning overpowering, spreading across the front of my palate. The transitions continue, though their range begins to narrow around roasted nuts, savory umami, and burnt sugar.
The core grows darker and denser as the cigar compresses, but a sharp mineral bite cuts through and lifts the profile. Then the lemon peel returns with the meringue, a welcome reminder of the lemon macaron that defined the cigar much earlier.
At the nub, nicotine pushes harder as the transitions narrow further around dark-roasted nuts, burnt wood, and burnt sugar. Coffee, earth, and black pepper dominate the darkened core.
The mineral bite continues to give the profile life, while the spice pulls everything forward, spreading from the front of my palate to my lips. Compression increases, but the cigar never collapses. It remains articulate and composed all the way to the end.
The first half smoked almost like a mild Dominican: composed, refined, and absolutely delicious, but with very little movement. I kept sensing that there might be more beneath the surface, though after nearly 50 minutes, I was beginning to wonder whether the cigar would ever reveal it.
Then the home stretch arrived, and everything changed. The transitions came so quickly that it became difficult to keep up as the profile moved through roasted nuts, bread and grain, bitter melon, cucumber, savory umami, burnt sugar, cream, nougat, florals, and honey. The spice shifted constantly around my mouth while the body thickened and the cigar surged with energy.
That explosion confirmed the feeling I had earlier. For most of the smoke, the cigar was simply beautiful, restrained, and patient. Then it broke open all at once.
The activity curve really reflects that behavior: low through the first half, gathering at halfway, spiking in the home stretch, holding through the last inch, then collapsing at the nub. It took a long time to get there, but luckily, my patience was rewarded.
You can buy these at Privada Cigar Club. This is a Members Only cigar, but it’s also a great excuse to join one of their clubs. I joined the Rare Box, which is how I discovered Patisserie in the first place.
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