Wrapper: Corojo-seed / Nicaragua: Namanji
Binder: Double binder / Nicaragua: Estelí, Jalapa
Filler: Nicaraguan / Nicaragua: Estelí, Jalapa, Condega
Size: Toro (6 x 54)
Strength: Medium to Medium-Plus
Body: Medium-Plus
Price: $12.15–$13.50 (Single) / $240.95–$283.50 (Box of 21, varies by retailer)
Factory: My Father Cigars S.A., Nicaragua
Blender: Crowned Heads / My Father Cigars
Release: 2026 (Regular Production)
Smoking Time: 1:45
Experience Rating: 99
I’m freezing my ass off as I review this cigar.
Northern California has taken a decisive turn toward fall. After a week of 100-degree-plus heat in southeast Texas and gorgeous coastal weather in Newport Beach, 65 degrees feels downright chilly.
Cold or not, I’m riding a high. I’m a grandfather again, and my new grandson has given me plenty to smile about.
Speaking of which, I’m pretty high on the Moonflower.
When I reviewed the Robusto last week, I approached it from a completely clean slate. I knew little about its backstory beyond the fact that it was a tribute to Jon Huber’s relationship with his wife. Only after writing the review did I dig deeper and discover that the Moonflower was essentially a reformulation of the Las Mareas.
That intrigued me. The Las Mareas was a critical success, but never gained much traction in the market. The Moonflower, on the other hand, appears to be doing quite well and has already sold out at numerous retailers.
Why did one disappear while the other is succeeding?
Maybe the Las Mareas was ahead of its time, much like the Montecristo 2000 Nicaragua Limited Edition. I have no idea what the Las Mareas tasted like, but if its goal was to provide a Cuban-like experience through a Nicaraguan puro, perhaps the market wasn’t ready for it. But the market has changed. The Moonflower is a reworked blend, and Jon is making damn sure people know about it.
And after smoking both the Toro and Robusto, people should know about the Moonflower.
There isn’t much to distinguish the Toro from the Robusto during the prelight inspection. It’s another great-looking cigar with a gorgeous sheen of oils. Like the Robusto, the Toro’s wrapper aromas are unremarkable: a little hay, barnyard, and a hint of sweetness. The same aromas become more pronounced at the foot, but nothing is particularly revealing.
Even so, I’m not expecting the Toro to smoke like the Robusto. Two ring gauges may not sound like much, but the extra filler tobacco is going to change the way the blend presents itself. I’m not going to predict how before I light it.
I light up, and it’s a pleasing start. Charred cedar, baking spices, light coffee, sweet tobacco, and a touch of salt lead the way. Cream follows and gives the smoke body almost from the outset.
I’m trying my best not to compare it with the Robusto, but that becomes impossible within the first few puffs. The Toro is smoother, rounder, and more balanced from the start. It also feels more grounded. My reaction, however, is remarkably similar. An internal, almost playful energy moves through the profile, and once again, I’m getting a giddy feeling.
There’s barely a settling-in period. The profile takes shape almost immediately and feels composed and organized from the beginning. The retrohale is gorgeous, something I neglected to mention in my Robusto review. It was gorgeous there, too, but the Toro is considerably smoother through the nose. The Robusto had a spicy character that this one doesn’t.
That combination of composure and playful energy takes me back to last night’s Croce Plays Croce concert. AJ Croce performed his father’s hits along with a sprinkling of his own material, and what a wonderful performer and awesome musician.
What struck me most was his humility. So many performers these days seem to want the audience to worship them. Despite being a masterful musician who has worked with the likes of Leon Russell and even Chet Atkins, AJ wanted to connect with the audience. He invited us to sing along and respectfully asked everyone to turn off their cell phones and return to a time before we were all constantly connected.
He wanted all of us to be in the moment with him.
That’s a rare performer.
Probably a quarter of the concert consisted of stories about his father, life on the road, and little bits of wisdom he’d picked up along the way. His command of the stage was undeniable, but he never needed to make that the point of the evening.
The Toro reminds me of AJ Croce.
It’s a masterful blend, but it doesn’t feel like it’s showing off. There’s so much energy, but it draws me in rather than overwhelming me.
And while I’ve been sitting here thinking about AJ Croce, I’ve stopped paying attention to the individual flavors. I’m well into the first half before I realize just how much is going on.
Baking spices, coffee, leather, teak, white pepper, chocolate, cream, cedar, stone fruit, malt, and roasted nuts are all present. Then there are the baked goods: sourdough bread, shortbread cookies, and, somehow, freakin’ apple pie. A sugary sweetness runs beneath everything and lingers on the finish.
This is a total flavor bomb, and I didn’t even notice it happening.
The crazy part is that none of it feels crowded. The central theme remains light: cedar, baking spices, and light coffee, with just a touch of chocolate. There’s no dark center weighing everything down, so the secondary flavors have plenty of room to move.
Even the spice is unusually restrained. It appears mainly on the finish at the back of my tongue, and the entire profile feels remarkably expansive.
As I reach halfway, the spice shifts to the sides of my tongue, and the sweetness steps forward. Cedar becomes more prominent and continues to lead rather than surrendering the profile to darker elements such as coffee. For a Nicaraguan puro, that’s remarkable. For a My Father-produced Nicaraguan puro, the subdued spice is even more surprising.
There’s supposed to be spice!
Instead, this is smoking like a Cuban.
And now I’m back to the Las Mareas. Its apparent goal was to create a Cubanesque experience through Nicaraguan tobacco, and that’s exactly what the Toro is giving me. Jon Huber and My Father hit this out of the park. Maybe the market simply wasn’t ready for this kind of Nicaraguan puro when the Las Mareas was released.
I’ve spent a long time smoking maduros and bold profiles. I still love them, but lately I’ve found myself leaning toward more balanced and nuanced expressions.
This is landing right in my wheelhouse.
Dare I say it, the Toro’s energy is on par with the Southern Draw Manzanita, hands down one of my all-time favorite cigars. Yet the Moonflower isn’t exhausting me. And now that I’m sitting with it, the Toro is also reminding me of another favorite: the Cuban Partagás Serie D No. 4.
Shit. I got distracted again.
I’m well into the second half now. Every flavor is still present and accounted for, but I’m in Honey Badger mode. I’m doing my thing, not giving a shit, and enjoying the hell out of this cigar.
Further in, the cigar loads up, so I poke it with my PerfecDraw and restore the airflow. Until now, the draw has been perfect, with exactly the right amount of resistance. The burn line has become slightly wavy from the light breeze outside, but it continues to correct itself and hasn’t required a touch-up.
The baked goods move forward in the home stretch, with sourdough toast taking the lead. Coffee finally begins to assert itself, although it never dominates. It comes together with the cedar, and the combination works beautifully.
The energy hasn’t diminished. The secondary flavors keep swirling around almost randomly, giving me a different combination with every puff. I could stop and inventory every appearance, but the Honey Badger in me still doesn’t give a shit. Suffice it to say that the flavors flash in and out, and I’m content to let them come at me.
Near the last inch, the profile takes a slightly darker turn. The coffee deepens, the cedar chars, and the chocolate darkens along with them. Nothing new enters. The same components simply turn darker.
Cream continues to encircle everything, just as it did in the Robusto, although it’s nowhere near as thick or imposing here. It’s still there, just much lighter.
Very little changes as I approach the end. There’s no meaningful compression or contraction. A little pressure finally appears, but it’s so light that it’s almost negligible.
Damn. This cigar has distracted me so thoroughly that I almost forgot to mention body and strength.
Body began around medium-plus and stayed there. Strength remains squarely between medium and medium-plus. There’s no late rush of power, and nicotine? Nary a hint. The Toro maintains its Cubanesque composure all the way through.
Like the Robusto, I’m nubbing this. There’s simply no reason to put it down. The profile hasn’t collapsed, the flavors haven’t compressed, and the strength isn’t forcing my hand. It remains smooth and expressive to the end.
I’ll just say it: I like the Toro even more than the Robusto, and I loved the Robusto.
If Jon Huber and My Father intended to create a Cuban-like experience, they pulled it off.
It still amazes me how much difference two ring gauges made. The Toro is only 1/32 of an inch wider than the Robusto, but the experience is dramatically different. The Robusto was already smooth. The Toro is rounder, more balanced, and considerably more spacious.
I’m going to pick up a fiver of the Corona Gorda before deciding which vitola I ultimately prefer. For now, the Toro is going to be extremely difficult to beat.
The Toro is particularly tough to find. But Cigar & Pipes has it in stock. Use code “BIG20” for a 20% discount. I’ve never purchased from them but I’m considering a fiver. They don’t have free shipping, but the discount will cover the shipping and still give you a little savings.
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