Wrapper: Habano Maduro / Ecuador
Binder: Nicaraguan Criollo
Filler: Seco, viso, and ligero / Nicaragua
Size: Lord Lonsdale (6 x 48)
Strength: Medium-Plus
Body: Medium
Price: $6 single; $29 five-pack; $115 box of 20 ($5.75/stick), USD, Miami Humidor
Factory: Las Villas, Estelí, Nicaragua
Blender: Paul Stulac
Release: 2011 (Classic line); 2013 (Lord vitola), Regular Production
Smoking Time: 1:25
Experience Rating: 98
I’m backing into this one. The Classic was Paul Stulac’s first blend, and somehow I’ve managed to smoke practically every other line he makes before getting around to it. It’s always been on my radar. I just kept getting distracted, including by Paul’s own excellent cigars. Now that I’ve smoked most of his lines, I can confidently say this is yet another winner.
That amazes me about Paul. Many new brands stumble a little with their initial blends, but it’s clear his work with Guillermo Peña made a HUGE difference in developing this debut.
The Lord wears a gorgeous, rich chocolate-colored wrapper. Its skin looks smooth, but it’s toothy, and the few visible veins don’t quite push it into rustic territory. I usually give cigar bands little more than a passing glance, but Paul’s bands practically demand attention. Like most of his others, this one reeks of heavy metal. Someone on Reddit once called his bands “metal AF,” and I can’t improve on that description.
The aromas are considerably gentler than the band. Sweet, rich tobacco rises from the wrapper without a trace of barnyard, while the foot offers sweet bread and dried apricots. The cold draw brings malt, sourdough, and a sweetness I can’t quite identify. Airflow is excellent, with just the right amount of resistance.
Then I light it, take a puff, and get… banana.
Again on the second puff. And the third. Amazing.
Cedar, light hot chocolate powder, roasted hazelnut, black pepper, malt, nougat, and cream follow, with a little coffee underneath. By half an inch, cedar has stepped forward. Plenty is already happening, but everything has a place even though a core hasn’t formed yet. Paul’s cigars never cease to amaze me in how well-organized they are from the get-go. Nothing drifts.
Cream takes the center by the first inch, gathering the hot chocolate and coffee around it. Cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, hazelnut, and sweet bread fill out the profile, while a light spice settles across my tongue and the roof of my mouth. The contrast between the darker flavors and the cream and sweet bread generates tension, giving the whole thing a boost of energy. It feels like a generator has switched on.
And then the complexity hits.
Working through the first half feels like being on the receiving end of an artillery squad carpet bombing a target. Vanilla crème, marzipan, sourdough, white pepper, rosemary, nutmeg, malt, floral notes, dark Bing cherry, and stone fruit arrive over successive puffs. The banana sits in the background. I’m perplexed by its presence, but I’m not complaining.
I can make out the individual pieces in the profile, but I’m hanging on for dear life trying to keep track of them. Somewhere in the middle of all this, I ask myself why the hell I waited so long to buy these sticks.
I actually have to force myself to examine what I’m tasting. A large part of me has gone into Honey Badger mode and just wants to enjoy the blend. Strength sits just above medium, with enough nicotine to put me in a happy place without making me completely euphoric. Body is medium, too. For all its complexity, the profile has an enormous amount of room. It feels expansive, almost cavernous.
Suddenly, I’m at the Grand Canyon.
In my younger, less cautious days, I took a road trip to the Grand Canyon with my parents. At one of the overlooks, I spotted a pillar of rock rising hundreds of feet from below. A natural rock platform stood close enough that I thought I could jump across to the top. After a short walk along a trail, I found the platform and made the jump.
I sat on that pillar, with the Grand Canyon’s depth and expanse spread out before me. The thousand-foot-plus precipice barely registered. I was completely absorbed by the majesty of the universe’s creation. There was so much to see, and so much space, that focusing on any single thing seemed impossible.
That’s where this cigar takes me. I can identify the flavors if I make myself, but I keep wanting to sit back and take in the whole experience.
When Phil reviewed the Angel in May of last year, he wrote:
“And…I’m relaxed. This is what cigar smoking is all about. We light up. We shift our attention to the blend at hand. Our pulse settles. Our breathing adjudicates to a worryless state. The shit in our head begins to disappear. And we are sated.”
I couldn’t agree more. Look where it took me.
At halfway, the ash drops away to reveal a practically perfect edge. The burn has been razor straight, and the profile remains as complex and expansive as ever. Coffee intensifies and moves forward in the core, though sweet bread and baking spices keep it from taking over. Spice becomes more assertive as well, radiating throughout my mouth.
I’m still sitting on that pillar, taking in the view.
Deeper into the second half, I’m content to sit in quiet solitude. I’m aware of the flavors and the construction, but I’m becoming less interested in recording every change. The profile’s expanse lets my mind wander, and its balance and composure keep pulling me away from the mental gymnastics of reviewing. I’m smoking something incredibly complex, yet I feel remarkably relaxed.
So I stop the mental gymnastics and just ENJOY it.
My experience does differ from Phil’s in one respect. He described the Angel’s strength going full tilt in the second half. The Lord gradually darkens, but it never feels like it’s kicking my ass. My nicotine tolerance could account for that. The Lord also has less filler tobacco than the Angel, which could account for the difference in nicotine strength. Whatever the reason, I feel uplifted and alive.
Too often, I get so caught up in observing the intricacies and nuance of a cigar that I forget to fully enjoy smoking it. This time, the experience overwhelms my desire to analyze the profile. I’ve written down plenty of flavors, but by this point, they no longer hold my attention.
The flavors seem almost irrelevant compared to the experience.
As I write this, I’m not even down to the last couple of inches. I could tell you the profile is compressing, the coffee is getting darker, and the chocolate has gone from light hot chocolate to a bold semi-sweet. But why take away from a fantastic experience by focusing on flavor notes, construction, burn lines, and all the other stuff I normally observe? It just wouldn’t make sense in this case.
So I will leave you with this: This is one for the ages.
Get some. I’m going to buy a bunch. This is going into my regular rotation. At $5.75/stick, it’s a no-brainer to have a bunch of these on hand.
Buy these at Miami Humidor. Mikey only shows the Angel in stock, and that’s what I ordered, but he contacted me and said he only had the Corona right now, so it’s a good bet you’ll get the Lord.
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