Wrapper: Undisclosed / Dominican Republic
Binder: Undisclosed
Filler: Undisclosed
Size: Toro (6 × 52)
Strength: Medium-Plus
Body: Medium-Plus → Full (last inch)
Price: $12.00 USD
Factory: Undisclosed, Dominican Republic
Blender: Undisclosed
Release: Macaron Series Orange (Limited Edition; 1,000 cigars produced)
Smoking Time: 1:45
Experience Rating: 98
This is the final cigar in the Macaron Series that I’m reviewing, and the fourth Patisserie overall.
Thus far, the cigars have been impressive. Each has had a clear identity, incredible structure, and a unique profile. More importantly, they’ve taken me on real flavor journeys, the kind that evoke intense and sometimes stark imagery.
A series like this makes me appreciate what Privada is doing even more.
Sure, the stories can be a bit bombastic at times, but there’s no denying that Brian Desind and his team are curating some excellent cigars.
My only complaint is that some of the best ones, like the Macaron line, are behind a member wall. But as I mentioned previously, I would’ve never discovered the Patisserie brand had I not become a member.
And after smoking all four, I’m grateful I did!
Synopsis
Strength rises slightly as the cigar settles, then returns to its starting level and remains essentially flat through the last inch. Body follows a very different curve, steadily thickening from medium-plus at ignition to full by the last inch. Activity begins moderately low, climbs through the first half, peaks at halfway, and then gradually recedes as the profile compresses toward the finish.
Stick a white label with embossed gold lettering on this cigar, and you’d swear it was a Davidoff. The skin is smooth and light, with a gorgeous sheen of oil and tiny flecks glistening across the surface. The cello has browned slightly, so this one has clearly spent some time resting.
Despite the elegant appearance, the cigar feels tightly packed and dense, more like a Tatuaje than a Davidoff.
The wrapper doesn’t reveal much. There’s a hint of hay, a touch of barnyard, and a subtle perfumed sweetness. The foot is only slightly more forthcoming, with raisins, fresh bread, and a light mustiness. It’s like opening a bag of stale raisin bread.
The cold draw is just as reserved, offering wintergreen, hay, and fresh-cut grass. The draw itself is perfect.
After lighting it up, the first few puffs are surprisingly dark-toned, with charred cedar leading before resolving into teak wood on the finish. It’s a perfect example of why you should never judge the darkness of a cigar by its color.
A caramelized sugar sweetness begins forming in the background, reminding me of the brittle top of a crème brûlée. A creamy base develops beneath it, and despite the darker profile, this feels more like a dessert than any of the other Macarons I’ve smoked.
There’s structure and shape, but it feels contained rather than held together under tension. Kind of like crème brûlée sitting in a bowl.
The cigar settles within the first half-inch, and the crème brûlée becomes less pronounced. Nicotine begins to hit, pushing the strength closer to medium-plus, while the body thickens slightly.
Then the profile suddenly turns fruity. There’s a suggestion of stone fruit, specifically dark cherries, plums, and nectarine. Orange zest enters behind it.
Okay… is this cigar actually living up to its name?
Spice finally arrives and punctuates the finish. It floats across the roof of my mouth, pulling everything upward.
There’s a playfulness beginning to emerge in this blend.
Getting into the first half, the bitterness of the orange zest becomes more pronounced. There’s also a predominant nuttiness to the profile, but it’s textural as well. Macarons are made with almond flour, and this really feels like it.
It’s pretty amazing that this particular cigar is expressing the Macaron name more clearly than the others I’ve smoked in the line.
The strength hasn’t moved since it bumped up slightly as the cigar settled, though to be honest, it may be abating a little. The body, meanwhile, continues to get richer and thicker. Construction remains perfect, with a beautifully straight burn line.
Whoa! Interesting transition. Tomatoes!
It starts out like Campbell’s Tomato Soup, then resolves into Italian passata. That’s somewhat in line with the citrus, but it’s completely unique and comes out of nowhere.
The crème brûlée returns on the retrohale, and that’s where most of the complexity lies. Wintergreen, cucumber, orange zest, sweet cream, yeasty bread, confectioner’s chocolate, vanilla bean, and caramel all begin revealing themselves. These flavors aren’t quickly filing in as a progression. They’re just there.
It’s like looking at a marble statue. Take Rodin’s The Thinker or Michelangelo’s Pietà. They’re striking, but they don’t move. There’s no movement, yet there’s innate power, structure, beauty, and unmistakable complexity.
This is a super-complex blend with only moderate movement. In that, it’s very Dominican.
Getting to the halfway point, I realize now that you have to lightly retrohale to fully enjoy this smoke. It doesn’t take much, but if you don’t, you’re going to miss a lot. I don’t normally retrohale, so my sinuses are sensitive to it, but this smoke doesn’t bother me at all.
Then comes a bready transition, like a baker unloading a hearth oven. Yeasty aromas drift off the foot, followed by a procession of bakery products: baguettes, sourdough loaves, almond cookies, shortbread, and brioche. Yeah, it’s sweet and buttery.
The body thickens slightly while the strength remains unchanged.
I also realize there’s been a core beneath all of this: dark coffee, charred cedar, and burnt sugar. The profile has been uncannily well-organized and structured. I could sense something holding it together, but with so many flavors layered above it, the core has played a minor role. I only notice it now because those darker flavors step forward on the back half of the retrohale and into the finish.
Then a richly adorned woman steps into the bakery. She smells of jasmine, Chanel No. 5, and rose water. She must have been drawn in by the smell of bread coming out of the hearth oven.
That imagery comes spontaneously. She’s like a French matriarch, carrying an aged beauty with an aristocratic, almost regal bearing.
In the home stretch, the strength still hasn’t moved the needle, and the body remains luxurious.
Then, what? Potato chips?
Get the fuck out of here.
It’s undeniable through several puffs. Hawaiian kettle chips.
A collection of pepper flavors follows, beginning with pronounced black pepper, then green bell pepper and white pepper. I even detect, or possibly imagine, a touch of salt. Combined with the potato chips and black pepper, it reminds me of Kettle Krinkle Cut Salt & Fresh Ground Pepper chips.
Again, get the fuck out of here. :)
Despite the potato-chip thing going on, activity remains moderate. But that isn’t a ding. To me, Dominican cigars are notorious for being richly flavored with very little movement. The best ones are well-structured and organized, like this one. The worst wander all over the freakin’ place with no direction.
I hate that shit.
All the other flavors remain present and accounted for.
Yup, this thing is a flavor bomb.
Getting into the last couple of inches, the spice finally asserts itself and provides the first real movement in the profile. It bounces from my tongue to the roof of my mouth while pulsing in intensity. On the finish, it spreads backward before moving out to my lips.
Pretty cool movement.
The core is also beginning to assert itself, and the profile compresses slightly. The strength still hasn’t changed, but the body thickens closer to full.
I want to say again that the overall lack of movement isn’t a negative with this smoke. This is a gorgeous cigar and, to me, the epitome of what a great Dominican should be.
Mmm… a tea transition.
Popcorn green tea, jasmine, Irish black tea, and red rooibos begin moving through the profile. The flavor pool is still there. Love it. But it’s becoming slightly obscured as the spice continues to intensify.
In the last inch, spice is king. It isn’t overwhelming, probably medium-plus if I had to give it a measurement, but retrohaling has become difficult for me. Someone who does it regularly will probably have an easier time, but my eyes are watering.
Amazingly, the strength still hasn’t moved one whit, while the body is now full.
The flavor pool is even more obscured, though I can still catch glimpses of caramel, vanilla, bread, green tea, almond cookies, and orange zest.
At the nub, the profile continues from the last inch, simply settling into a nice cruise.
What’s interesting is that the finish returns to that gorgeous caramelized sugar note, punctuated by light orange zest and the texture of almond flour.
A nice reminder of an orange macaron.
And delicious to the end.
I’m impressed.
Now that I’ve finished the Macaron Series, I’m genuinely moved by what Monsieur Guillaume accomplished with these blends. Each one is a distinct expression of the country where it was produced, with its own identity, structure, and personality.
But the Orange is the clearest expression of the Macaron name. The others carried traits of lemon zest and vanilla, but this one fully declared itself through caramelized sugar, orange zest, almond flour, and that rich bakery profile.
It also epitomized what the best Dominican cigars can be: full-flavored, beautifully structured, and completely free of drift.
Only 1,000 of each cigar was produced. I’m hoping Monsieur Guillaume does another run, or perhaps expands the concept into other countries.
Then he could have a full case of Macarons!
As usual, these can be purchased at Privada. They’re behind a member wall, but from what I’ve discovered once I became a member, I get access to many cigars that aren’t available elsewhere.
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