Wrapper: San Andrés Maduro / Mexico
Binder: Habano / Ecuador
Filler: Nicaragua, Peru
Size: Box-Pressed Toro (6¼ x 54)
Strength: Medium → Medium-Plus (first half)
Body: Medium-Plus → Full (final inch)
Price: $12.30/single; $204.00–$214.95/box of 20 (USD; varies by retailer)
Factory: Fábrica de Tabacos Joya de Nicaragua, S.A., Estelí, Nicaragua
Blender: Omar de Frias
Release: October 2020 (Regular Production; sampler debut 2019)
Smoking Time: 1 hour, 45 minutes
Experience Rating: 94
I’m a little slow on the uptake when it comes to reviewing Fratello cigars. They’ve been on my radar for years, but I kept getting sidetracked by other brands. When I recently became a little more active on social media, Omar de Frias kept popping up in my feed. Apparently, the algorithm had decided it was time for me to pay attention. I finally pulled the trigger on a couple of sample packs.
They come in fresh packs, which I appreciate, though I’ve found that cigars in those packs tend to be a little more humid than I prefer. The two I smoked for this review each got a couple of days in the dry box.
The Arlequín is a gorgeous cigar. Its skin looks smooth, but running a finger over it reveals a light sandpaper texture. There’s some spring when I gently squeeze it, without any softness, and the box press gives it a nicely formed oval shape. The wrapper and foot are surprisingly reserved, given the Mexican San Andrés wrapper. Bread and grass come off the wrapper, while the foot offers plum, honey, and a little cedar. The draw is loose, with just enough resistance to register.
With my first puff, the Arlequín makes a declarative entrance: espresso, dark chocolate, malt, and cedar, delivered in immediately creamy, smooth smoke. A light spice plants itself squarely on my tongue, and within a few puffs, espresso, dark chocolate, and charred cedar form the thematic center.
Spice usually has an outward pull for me, but here it seems to contain the profile. Everything sits inside a protective net, held together without being drawn inward. Underneath it all, the cream provides a soft bed for the flavors to rest on.
There’s already a recognizable structure to the smoke.
The burn gets a little wavy through the first inch and even threatens to canoe, but it corrects itself. I don’t spend much time discussing burn lines in my reviews because occasional minor corrections don’t bother me. But if I’m using up all the butane in my lighter, we have a problem. Otherwise, I’m satisfied with a reasonably straight burn that lets me smoke the tobacco I’m supposed to be getting at that moment.
There hasn’t been much development yet. The Arlequín seems occupied with getting itself organized, establishing a base before moving on. Now that it has its shit together, I’m looking forward to seeing what it does with it.
As I move into the first half proper, a light nicotine presence nudges strength just above medium. Body is a solid medium-plus, giving the smoke a luxurious feel, but I’ll admit that the opening has become a little pedestrian. The richness made a good first impression. I’m ready for some action.
Baking spices and malted milk balls appear out of nowhere, and I raise an eyebrow. Okay. There we go. The coffee takes on a thick, mouth-coating Kahlua character, followed by dark, robust cacao with a slightly bitter, herbal quality. This is distinct from the dark chocolate at the center. It reminds me of eating particularly dark chocolate and finding something almost savory in it, as though sage, cardamom, and rosemary have been infused into it.
What has me scratching my head is how dark the profile’s tone has become while the experience remains energetic and alive. Dark profiles can feel gravitational to me, but this one doesn’t have that pull. The contrast gives the smoke a sophistication that wasn’t immediately apparent in the opening.
A little lemon zest adds brightness, while sweet, yeasty bread on the retrohale balances the citrus. Then the cacao eases off and moves to the periphery, where it starts playing against the spice. The core remains recognizable, but the relationships around it keep giving me something else to consider. Even the strength participates in that contrast. All this darkness and mouth-coating richness, and the nicotine still sits just a tick above medium. There’s a very yin-yang quality to the way this cigar works.
At halfway, I make my first burn correction. The char line has started looking like a skateboard ramp, so it’s time to intervene.
I’m loving the complexity of the Arlequín’s structure. Complexity is often discussed in terms of how many flavors a cigar delivers, but it also exists in the composition of the smoke and the way its components interact. I keep coming back to Salvador Dalí’s Lincoln in Dalivision. From a distance, it’s unmistakably Abe Lincoln, rendered in what appears to be a relatively simple color palette. Move closer, and the complexity of the image reveals itself.
That’s what I’m finding here. The espresso, chocolate, and cedar make a familiar picture, but closer examination reveals sophisticated internal relationships. The more attention I give them, the more interesting the whole becomes.
Moving into the second half, I start hearing a song I wrote years ago called Why You Hatin’. I originally wrote it as a counterpoint to the angst and vitriol on social media, though it really expressed my approach to life: Y’all can get into your own shit. I’m just gonna play my guitar.
I don’t know what triggered the association, but this is one of the reasons I love smoking cigars. You never know where the experience is going to take your mind. I’ve learned to go with it, and that song captures the attitude I’m getting from the Arlequín. It knows who it is and is entirely unapologetic about it. That reminds me of Omar himself. There’s confidence in that identity, yet the cigar remains approachable and thoroughly enjoyable.
By the last inch, the spice has affixed itself to the roof of my mouth. It’s a little more intense, though never overpowering, and the profile has settled mostly into that delicious core of espresso, dark chocolate, and burnt cedar. Body is now full, thick, and rich. Other than the earlier nudge of nicotine, strength has refused to climb any higher. I’m mellowed out, with Why You Hatin’ still playing in the back of my head. I decide to put the song on and listen as I finish the cigar.
I almost never share my music. I’ve written hundreds of songs over the years, nearly all of them for Catholic Mass or praise and worship at youth retreats. Why You Hatin’ came out of an attempt to write secular music, something I never felt entirely comfortable doing. Finding a sound that felt like mine was difficult, as was finding a subject that inspired me. But I couldn’t shake how well this particular song fit the cigar’s attitude.
The Arlequín is a cigar I’ll be returning to regularly. All the leaf stats scream bold, and it certainly delivers the darkness and richness. I love that it can give me all of that in a medium-strength experience.
I purchased my fresh packs at Smoking Pipes, who used to be known as Tobacco & Pipes. They’re on sale right now for $27/pack, down from $45. Grab some!
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