Romeo y Julieta Belicosos

Description

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There is a particular brand of quiet you’ll only encounter a room at an airport at four-thirty in the morning. It’s not a peaceful silence; it is oppressive, filtered through the hum of industrial HVAC systems and the distant rhythmic scrubbing of a floor polisher three terminals away. I was on one of those low-slung, fake leather chairs in a shadowy corner of the lounge that still hadn’t been touched by morning sun. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass, the tarmac was a bruised purple, peppered with the blinking amber palindromes of luggage tugs. I was feeling every moment of the three hours I’d slept. A little melancholy, truth be told. There’s something so bittersweet about leaving a city that it always feels like breaking up with it, and saying goodbye to London in the rain made it all the worse this time.

I had a styrofoam cup of black coffee in front of me — you know, one that’s been in the carafe long enough to grow into its own personality, and not a very good one. It was bitter, metallic and exactly what I deserved for booking the first possible flight out. I wanted something to root me, ground me and take me from the ghost of the night before to the reality of my flight. I dipped into my travel humidor, among the more assertive cigars I save typically for late-night rum-fueled sessions. My hand comes to rest upon a pointed head. I opened it up, running the back of my thumb along the smooth, slightly oily wrapper.

That smoke? The Romeo y Julieta Belicosos. It’s a cigar that doesn’t require you to be on your game, really, but it does want your time. And in that empty, lonely lounge, I had an abundance of it.

The Specifications

But before I talk about how it actually worked at least for me as I sat watching the shark’s life sustainment trucks circle, let’s check the vitals. This isn’t quite a pointed cigar shape; it’s more a classic Cuban form that has girth to it but is not overly clublike.

BuildQuality: Howthe Campana Feels

I’ve always had a soft spot for the Campanas size. There’s something about that tapered head — the “belicoso” tip — that tastes more meaningful than a typical robusto. I lifted the Romeo y Julieta Belicosos and held it toward a dim light in the lounge. Wrapper The wrapper was beautiful Colorado shade brown, it looked flawless from the foot all the way up to the cap. There were no soft spots or “plugs” when I gave it a gentle squeeze. It felt nice and firm and was densely packed with that quality long-filler from the Vuelta Abajo. You can always feel a cigar that has been rolled by someone who gives a damn, and this felt tight.

I got out my cutter and nipped the very top off the head. Like a shallow cut on a belicoso; it focuses the smoke and gives you some control of the draw. The pre-light was what I expected from a traditional Roméo—easy but not too easy, you’ve know it’s there. I got whiffs of dry hay and a pronounced hazelnut sweetness. It was clean. No bitterness, no chemical tang. Just pure, aged tobacco. I sat there for a minute, just drawing air through the unlit leaf, letting that hazelnut note play against the bitter dregs of my coffee. It was a good match.

The First Third: A Good Alarm Clock

I used a soft-flame lighter — I’m not into torches when I’m feeling lost in thought; they’re too agro. I slowly toasted the foot, watching as the edges turned to an orange glow in the twilight of my lounge. The first few drags were unexpectedly easy. Ever have a smoke that sort of politely introduces itself before it starts talking? That’s this Belicosos.

First flavors and hotness but I don’t know if the two correlate, were a white pepper, very mild with nutmeg. It was no spice bomb by any measure. It was a whisper of spice. The coffee and earth flavors began to creep out around ten minutes in. It was earthy tasting in a good way — definitely not “dirt” earthy, more like the smell of a garden after a light rain. The smoke volume was good – coating the mouth, but not cloying. The wistful one I was in? The cigar began to soften it. I was no longer thinking of the rain in London; I was thinking of the smoke.

The Second Third: Getting Their Groove

When I hit the second third, the sun was beginning to rise and pouring some light onto the wings of the planes outside. The cigar shifted gears perfectly. The spiciness dissipated and let through a dark, thick, creamy note. I began to pick up on nuts — not just the hazelnut from the cold draw but something a bit heartier, more like pistachios or roasted almonds. Here is where the Romeo y Julieta DNA really come shining through. It is renowned for that medium-bodied grace, and there it was in full force.

The smoke developed a heavy, chewy texture. I picked up just a touch of slightly-tanned leftet on the finish, which was a very nice bit of “old library” in the experience. It’s a highly fragrant smoke; even in the well-ventilated lounge, I could smell it clinging to me afterward, and that wasn’t bad — wooden and sweet. Gotta say, that burn was pretty spot on. I never had to relight it, and the ash itself was a firm straw consistency light grey that remained firmly attached for about an inch and a half before I decided my lap wasn’t probably strong enough to support it.

The Last Third: The Deep End

As I reached the end, the flavors grew more rounded. That nutty sweetness at the center became richer, almost like a salty toffee. It wasn’t sugary per se, but it was caramelly and rich. Some cacao bitterness emerged toward the end—a good kind, say 80% dark chocolate—and the retrohale presented an odd hit of flower I wasn’t expecting. It kept me on my toes.

The cigar did get a tad dry toward the end, which is normal for a Cuban figurado because the oils concentrate near the tapered head. But it never got hot. I smoked it down to my fingers’ ends, and still it never went “nasty” or acrid. It stayed balanced. I checked my watch – I’d been sitting there for 80 minutes or so. The lounge was starting to fill up now, the morning rush already getting into full swing, but I felt like I’d just had a long talk with an old friend. The melancholy was gone and in its place was an even, tobacco-soothing calm.

Pairing Recommendations

I had mine with the sort of dud airport coffee, and you know what? It still worked. The bitterness of the coffee was a nice contrast to both the nutmeg and creaminess on the cigar. But if I were at home or in a respectable lounge, here’s the way I’d do it:

• The Morning Route: Double espresso or flat white. The milk in a flat white and the almond and pistachio notes within the second third would be absolutely fantastic together.
• The Afternoon Route: Floral, light tea. Maybe an Earl Grey. That floral retrohale in the final 3rd would be accentuated by the bergamot.
• The Evening Route: A Cuban rum, such as Havana Club 7. You want something with a little vanilla and oak, but nothing so smoky that it overpowering the medium body of the Romeo.

The Verdict

Could the Romeo y Julieta Belicosos be the strongest cigar in the world? No. If you’re trying to get punched in the chest by nicotine, go somewhere else. But if you crave class, progression and a flavor profile that’s suited like tailored trousers, here they are. It’s a classic for a reason. It’s the smoke I prefer if I want to think, knots tightening in my brow — or I need to slow down time — or it’s 5 a.m. and I’m waiting for an open airport lounge wondering where all these years have gone.

It’s reliable. It’s aromatic. It’s quintessentially Cuban. It doesn’t have to shout “HEY YOU” at you to get your attention; it just does. Whether you’re an experienced veteran or someone wanting to take a step into Cuban figurados, this is a good, staple piece for any humidor. But do make sure to have at least 75 minutes on your hands, so you can be properly respectful.

Solid. Truly solid.

Final Smoke Time: 82 Minutes
Verdict: A necessity for those who value subtlety more than brute force.