Wrapper: Connecticut
Binder: Corojo
Filler: Dominican Republic, Nicaragua
Size: Toro (6 x 52)
Strength: Just shy of Medium → Medium (final third)
Body: Medium-Plus
Price: $14.00 / stick
Factory: Tabacalera Rodríguez Santana, Dominican Republic
Blender: Chris Moore, Santos Rodríguez Santana
Release: Not specified
Smoking Time: 1 hour, 45 minutes
Experience Rating: 99
I’m working my way through the samples I bought from Carolina Blue, and this morning I reach for the Essence of the Leaf Connecticut. I want to start the day with a lighter smoke, though seeing a Connecticut wrapper still gives me that little unsettled feeling. Of all the wrappers out there, the Connie is the one I seem to either love or hate. Recent experiences have been changing that, but apparently my expectations haven’t quite caught up.
But this is a stick that’s helping me make the shift.
I always like to get a sense of where a brand’s cigars are produced. There are so many white-labeled cigars out there that I’m wary when a brand doesn’t share that information.
But in a recent conversation, Chris Moore told me his cigars are made at Tabacalera Rodriquez Santana in Villa Gonzales, Dominican Republic. It’s a small, family-owned operation with a tobacco-growing history dating to 1945, passed from father to son, Santos.
Chris has known Santos for a long time and describes him as a phenomenal blender. He’s equally enthusiastic about the buncher, whom he calls the best he’s had the pleasure of knowing. According to Chris, both have long histories with large companies, including Davidoff. The two cigars I’ve smoked thus far confirm how good these guys are.
As an aside, in my conversation with Chris, I had mentioned that, based on the Corojo, his bonchero knew what he was doing. I think that’s important to point out because cigar construction is a two-person operation. The bonchero, or buncher, is the one who puts the leaves of the blend together, while the rolero, or roller, applies the wrapper.
We usually only see videos of the roller, but the bonchero can make or break a cigar as they’re the ones who assemble a blend’s inner ingredients and also establish its prescribed ring gauge. And while both are critical to construction, I’d assign a bit more importance to the bonchero.
As for the Connie, it wears a gorgeous claro wrapper. Its yellow tones remind me of flue-cured tobacco. It’s firm throughout, with no soft spots or prominent veins. I sometimes wonder whether my nose is losing its sensitivity because I so often miss the barnyard aroma other people describe. No such concern here. Barnyard and dry grass dominate the wrapper, without a hint of sweetness.
The foot offers quite a different introduction. Green apple leads, supported by sourdough bread, floral notes, and honey. That fruity, honeyed sweetness carries into a perfect cold draw, where a little sweetgrass joins it. Lovely.
The first puff makes me reconsider what I thought I was lighting. Dark coffee and clove? That’s a surprisingly un-Connie opening. Cedar and baking spices soon bring things into more familiar territory, followed by roasted peanut, crisp golden apple, caramel, and vanilla. Underneath all of it is a base of cream that reminds me of half ’n half. There’s an impressive amount going on already.
Within the first half inch, those opening impressions begin organizing around cedar, baking spices, apple, and coffee. The profile leans bright, with the coffee giving it a welcome dark contrast. It settles so quickly that I’m a little surprised to discover I’ve smoked through the first inch in ten minutes. Fortunately, the burn slows considerably once that early core takes shape.
Lemon, orange, and tangerine peel begin dancing above it, lifting an already bright profile. Talk about a pick-me-up. I’ve just come out of a meeting, and this cigar is perking me right up. Toffee, cinnamon, and nutmeg come through on the retrohale, adding still more detail to a blend whose complexity is already taking me aback.
The smoke has a thick, luscious texture, with medium-plus body and generous white clouds on the exhale. Strength sits just shy of medium, and there’s no pressure from nicotine. A couple of early burn corrections have given way to a well-behaved burn that I haven’t needed to touch since. Spice plays hide-and-seek, flashing in briefly before disappearing again. I’m enjoying its little game.
Deeper into the first half, honey-like sweetness begins to pervade the finish, giving the whole profile more room. Roomy is the best word I can find for it. There are depths and layers, yet none of the flavors seem to bump into one another. Even those citrus peel notes have plenty of space to dance.
And that honey sweetness feels sexy.
The thought makes me chuckle. I found a feminine character in the Corojo, but the Connecticut seems entirely unabashed about its feminine energy. As its profile continues to expand, the core remains present, though I’m becoming less concerned with picking it out. There’s so much happening around it that its role as a reference point almost becomes irrelevant.
Think of a confident, beautiful woman who’s completely comfortable in her own skin. She doesn’t need to explain who she is. One look tells you she has her act together, and engaging with her confirms it. That’s how this cigar feels. It goes about its business with the quiet confidence of someone who has nothing to prove.
By halfway, nothing has changed, and I absolutely don’t care. I’m so comfortable sitting with this cigar that I’m happy to accept whatever it offers. If there are more transitions ahead, great. But I’m completely satisfied with where we are.
It has already done its job. I’m satisfied.
As the second half gets underway, the spice apparently tires of playing hide-and-seek. It joins the honey sweetness at the periphery, helping pull the profile outward and sustain that wonderful roominess. The citrus peel becomes more pronounced, and another transition follows, bringing cinnamon, cardamom, yeasty bread, and a light touch of black licorice. There’s still ample space for every one of them. And strength is still just shy of medium. Amazing.
Somewhere in all this, B.B. King’s The Thrill Is Gone pops into my head. Specifically, his performance at Clapton’s 2010 Crossroads Festival. I pull up the video and start swaying in my seat to that familiar blues groove. Then Clapton gets his guitar wailing, and I become so absorbed in watching and listening that the cigar goes out.
I relight it, but watching is no longer enough. I grab a guitar, put on a backing track, and start jamming while I smoke.
By the final third, the coffee has moved forward. It hasn’t become stronger so much as more prominent within the profile. I’m trying to record this while reaching over my guitar to type, which is doing nothing for my accuracy.
I’m not much of a soloist. I tend to think too much while I’m playing, analyzing what I’m doing instead of letting myself do it. But sometimes I manage to get out of my own way and just play. When that happens, I surprise myself.
This is one of those times. The cigar has put me in a state of satori, where thought and action are the same. I’m playing without stopping to examine every choice. Pure expression.
Meanwhile, the spice has left the periphery and settled on my tongue. Strength reaches a solid medium, and the core flavors begin asserting themselves again, reminding me of the central theme within all that space. The honey sweetness has also changed, darkening and thickening into a luxurious caramel. The profile remains expansive, even with its center becoming more prominent.
With a couple of inches remaining, floral notes adorn the finish alongside nutmeg and cardamom. I’m still marveling at how much this blend has to offer. The core now dominates, yet everything remains in stark relief. There’s no difficulty finding the smaller details around it.
I’m taking more time between puffs, allowing green apple to shine on the finish. It has me smacking my lips. The head is loading up now, becoming caramelly sweet, and I run my tongue appreciatively over it. Luckily, there’s no tar. Then again, I might have licked it off.
In the last inch, coffee steps forward again and darkens to espresso, an unsurprising development this close to the end. The secondary flavors begin fading as the core occupies more of the profile. What fascinates me is that the space never seems to contract. I would expect some compression at this point, but the core simply pushes outward, taking up the room the other flavors have left behind.
Even then, it hasn’t pushed away the ambient sweetness or the green apple on the finish. The architecture retains that expansive character right down to the point where the cigar is threatening to singe my fingers. Nicotine finally makes its presence known, and I let the cigar burn out while I’m still enjoying the experience.
Forget what I ever said about not liking Connies. I just hadn’t smoked the ones that resonated with me, and this one definitely resonated with me.
Over the past several months, I’ve smoked some mind-blowing Connecticut-wrapped cigars. There have been a few dogs that never made it into this publication, and no, I’m not naming them. But most of the Connies I’ve smoked during that time have changed my mind to the point that I’m now actively seeking them out.
I can add the Carolina Blue Essence of the Leaf Connecticut to that list.
As with the Corojo, buy these directly from Chris @ Carolina Blue Cigars. Click on the Submit Order button at the top right. Choose the cigar you want, then select the quantity, and Chris will email you a payable invoice.
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