Bolivar Royal Corona

Description

I sat on a piece of bleached driftwood on an expanse of beach with no name — at least, not one I could find ahead of time on any map. The sun was going through that torturous, heavy sinking into the Caribbean and turning the water into what seemed like liquid copper. I had spent the last 3 weeks in a boardroom in Panama, working a deal that had more moving parts than my dad’s Swiss watch. When the signatures eventually fell on the paper, I didn’t feel like partying.” I didn’t want a steak dinner. I craved silence, the roar of the tide and a smoke to live beneath the moment.

Product Specifications

I reached into my travel humidor, the leather worn supple from years of being chucked in carry-ons. My fingers grazed through a few of the lighter sticks and flashier labels, before resting on something thick and steady. You know that moment when you just have to go where you need? It’s nothing to do with the price, or the hype, and everything to do with its character. I needed something earthy. I wanted to sit on something that felt like the ground I was, to my immense relief, finally standing on after weeks of corporate air. I took one out, a Bolivar Royal Corona. I sat there, staring at the band — Simon Bolivar’s no-nonsense face returned my gaze — and I thought, Yeah, this is it.

That smoke? At only 4.89 inches long and a thick 50 ring gauge, the Bolivar Royal Corona packs quite a punch. It is the type of cigar that doesn’t ask for your attention; it takes it. It’s been around since the late sixties, and it has that old-school Cuban soul you won’t get in some of the newer “boutique” blends. It’s a Robusto that smokes like a much bigger cigar, and on that beach as the wind tapered to nothing more than a whisper, it was just what I wanted in terms of company.

The Blueprint

First Impressions & Construction

The Royal Corona’s wrapper is the first thing that grabs your attention. It’s this golden-brown, Colorado-claro hue that reminds me of a well-oiled saddle. I have seen some that are slightly darker, but this one was gray right in the middle of the spectrum. And then there’s that tiny little box-press, which I like. It’s not harsh edge-wise, but it’s got those softer corners that make it feel lovely between your fingers. It does not feel like a mass-produced rod; it feels like something that a human being actually took time to form.

I ran my thumb along it. There are no veins to be had Very little soft spots. It was strong, heavy, and meaningful. The weight — around 11 or 12 grams — means that the scale has enough heft to let you know there’s a lot of tobacco in there. I cold drew it after a clean straight cut and got pummeled with some wet dirt, maybe a bit of hay. The draw was perfect as I like it: with a hint of resistance, there was a certain thickness to the smoke, akin to drinking a rich milkshake through straw. You don’t want these things to get too loose, or they will burn hot and spoil the show.

The First Third: The Wake-Up Call

I toasted the foot with a single-flame torch, holding it there until the entire circumference was glowing red then gave it my first puff. The first cloud of smoke was whispy, dense, white and had an aroma reminiscent of a campfire in the woods. This thing is punchy as hell right out of the gate. And I mean toasted bread and the kind of woodiness that you don’t necessarily want to taste unless it’s in a brown whiskey, the cedar-wood-ishness, not like light-heady-woods-nature walk. This is like old, seasoned oak instead.

Ever smoke something with a “thin” feeling? This isn’t that. The mouthfeel is chewy. Around the 10-minute mark, you can feel it really working its earthy core. It’s what I’d describe as a very “Cuban” earthiness, musky and inky. I sat there in the sand, and the salt air combined with that toasted bread flavor, I gotta say it was dynamite. The burn was straight and on point, and the ash was a medium shade of grey, holding for about an inch before I tapped it loose. I didn’t want it falling into my lap while I was unwinding. ~1718, from “The Roman life, in the Days of Cicero, originally meant A Manly Association” by Elizur Wright

The Second Third: In the Groove

Beginning the middle portion of the cigar, it didn’t tamp down in strength but it smoothed out. On the first few puffs, these were “rougher” edges that moved into something very complex. This is where the Bolivar truly displays its lineage. I began to get more distinct notes of nutmeg and an extremely slight, dry cocoa. It was not candy-bar sweet, but instead as sweet as raw cacao nibs.

There’s a coffee thing going on here, too. Two shots from the Lucaffe espresso machine, today with rich crema at perfect volume — not a latte — thick and dark and slightly bitter, but so rich. What kind of surprised me was the cedar note stayed more in the background and it was being used as a base for everything else. I did a couple of retrohales and man, that’s where the spice lives. It’s not a black pepper burn, but rather a warm, tingly feeling that lets you know this is a full-bodied stick. It’s got guts. I was leaning back against the driftwood and watching the smoke blow out to sea, just letting the flavors develop. Reflective puffing, for sure.

The Final Third: The Big Finish

With the last couple of inches remaining, the cigar was in transition once more. The earth and leather were the stars. If you have a taste for a cigar that goes out with a whimper, try something else. The Royal Corona ends on a high. I detected hints of chocolate and, bizarre as it sounds, a bit of honey sweetness that emerged amid the spice. It was a welcome offset to the white pepper aftertaste that began to float on my tongue.

It remained cool all the way down to the nub. I’ve had Robustos that turn bitter and hot after the first band, but this one kept its cool. I think that’s why it has such a cult following. It’s consistent. It’s heavy, but it doesn’t goopy. I sat there until my fingers felt warm, not wanting to release the moment. The deal I had just closed felt like a million miles away. It was only that last dash of spice and the disappearance, at long last, of the sun.

Pairing Thoughts

Now, I was at a beach, so my choices were limited to what I’d brought. I had a hip flask of Havana Club 7-Year-Old, and let me tell you, it was pure simpatico. The Bolivar is earthy, sweet and just a bit spicy, but the rum’s sweetness cuts right through its profile. If I were at home, I’d possibly have that with a really dark roast coffee or a peaty Scotch—something strong enough to stand up to the strength of the cigar. This isn’t the sort of drink you want to accompany with a light beer or delicate wine; the Bolivar will take those for a walk. You want something that can compete with it.

The Verdict

Let me be clear – I’m not telling you this is the “best” cigar in the world because that’s a bunch of crap. What I will say is that the Bolivar Royal Corona is a classic for good reason. It’s been kicking since ’69, and in 2005 the Cigar Aficionado guys deemed it “numero uno.” That doesn’t happen by accident. It’s a cigar for people who like the taste of tobacco. It’s not attempting to play the “creamy” or “mild” game. It is both brash and pungent, with a personality that’s hard to miss.

Is it for a beginner? Probably not. It may be a little heavy for anyone accustomed to lighter, Connecticut-wrapped cigarillos. But if you’re a guy who’s been around the block and likes a Robusto that really like this is a full meal, here’s your smoke. Every time I spark up one, I know what to expect. Like an old friend who doesn’t pull any punches … no frills, no bullshit just a damn good smoke.

And when I rose from that driftwood, testing the sand off my pants, I felt centered. The Royal Corona had performed its task. It provided me with 45 minutes of focus, and a flavor profile that felt as rugged as the coastline did. If you find yourself in a situation where you want to mark an event, or if you just need to remind yourself of what makes Cuban tobacco so lovable, pick up one of these. You won’t regret it.