Romeo y Julieta Capuletos EL 2016

Description

I’m standing on the terrace of a 19th-century villa just outside of Florence. The air is thick with the scent of jasmine and the distant, rhythmic thrum of a wedding band playing something that sounds suspiciously like a jazz-infused version of a Motown classic. My buddy, Elias—a guy I hadn’t seen since we were both struggling to make rent in a cramped Brooklyn fourth-floor walk-up—is leaning against the stone balustrade, looking remarkably sharp in a navy tuxedo. We’d just finished a round of “remember when” stories that had us both doubled over, and there was this overwhelming sense of triumph in the air. We’d made it. Not just to this wedding, but to a point in our lives where we could actually breathe.

I reached into my travel humidor, the leather cool against my palm. I’d been saving a pair of special sticks for a moment that felt significant enough to warrant them. I didn’t want something common; I wanted something that felt like a milestone. I handed one to Elias, and his eyes widened as he caught the double band—the classic red and gold of Romeo y Julieta paired with the prestigious gold and black of the Edición Limitada. I clipped the caps with my V-cutter, the “snap” barely audible over the music, and handed him his light. As the first plumes of smoke drifted toward the Tuscan stars, the conversation shifted from the past to the present, anchored by the weight of the cigar in our hands.

That smoke? The Romeo y Julieta Capuletos Edición Limitada 2016. I’ve had my share of Habanos over the years, but this one always felt like it was holding a secret, waiting for the right evening to tell it. It’s a cigar that demands your attention without shouting for it, a rare balance that I’ve come to appreciate more as my palate has matured. Sitting there, watching the wedding guests dance through the glass doors, I knew I’d picked the right companion for the night.

The Specifications

Before I get into how this thing actually smokes, let’s look at the vitals. This isn’t your standard Robusto; it’s got some meat on its bones.

Construction and Pre-light

The first thing you notice about the Capuletos is the wrapper. Since it’s an Edición Limitada, Habanos S.A. uses those darker, oilier leaves from the top of the plant. It’s got a beautiful, slightly mottled chocolate hue—almost like a well-worn leather armchair. In my hand, it felt substantial. There’s a certain “heft” to a 53 ring gauge that just feels right when you’re celebrating. It had a bit of that Cuban “sponginess” I’ve come to expect—not soft, mind you, but giving just enough under the fingers to let you know the tobacco is well-humidified and packed with care.

I took a cold draw and was immediately hit with this lush, raisin-like sweetness. It wasn’t sugary; it was more like a dried fruit concentrate, backed by a very distinct scent of sweet hay and a bit of an herbaceous undertone. I’ve heard some guys say it smells like a barnyard in the best way possible, and I gotta say, they aren’t wrong. It’s that earthy, raw tobacco aroma that tells you you’re about to smoke something with a pedigree. The draw was a tiny bit snug—a classic Cuban trait—but nothing that felt like I was trying to drink a thick milkshake through a straw. It was just enough resistance to keep the burn slow.

The First Third: The Elegant Opening

Lighting this up was a ritual in itself. I used a single-jet flame to toast the foot, making sure every bit of that 53 ring gauge was glowing before I took the first puff. The initial smoke output was elegant—not a chimney, but thick, velvety clouds that hung in the air. The first few draws were a masterclass in creamy earthiness. I got these sharp notes of nuts—think peanut shells rather than creamy peanut butter—and a woodiness that reminded me of cedar chests.

About an inch in, a weirdly pleasant “lemonade” note started to peek through. It wasn’t sour, but it had this bright, citrusy acidity that cut right through the heavier earth tones. I also picked up a bit of multi-grain bread and a toasted quality that felt very “breakfast-like.” Elias looked over at me and said, “It’s like smoking a savory pastry.” I couldn’t have put it better. There was even a hint of what I can only describe as burnt meats—that savory, charred umami flavor you get on the crust of a good brisket. It sounds odd for a cigar, but in the context of the Romeo profile, it worked. The ash was a fine, solid grey, holding on like it didn’t want to let go of the experience.

The Second Third: The Heart of the Matter

As we moved into the second third, the Capuletos really started to find its stride. The strength ticked up from a solid medium to something approaching full. The flavors deepened, moving away from those bright citrus notes and into something more decadent. I started getting waves of nougat and mocha. It was like the cigar was settling into its “Romeo” roots, offering that floral and cocoa base that the brand is famous for, but with the added muscle of the Edición Limitada aging.

The cedar became more prominent here, but it was a “fresh” cedar, not the dusty kind you find in an old humidor. The retrohale was where the real magic happened. If you aren’t retrohaling this stick, you’re missing half the story. I caught a distinct damp earth sensation and a hit of kosher salt. It was savory, rich, and incredibly smooth. I didn’t feel any harshness on the back of the throat, which is a testament to the two-plus years of aging those leaves received before they were even rolled back in 2016. By now, the cigar had been burning for about 45 minutes, and I was only halfway through. This isn’t a smoke you rush.

The Final Third: The Capulet Finale

By the time I reached the final third, the wedding party was in full swing, but Elias and I were locked into the “zone.” The flavor profile shifted again, becoming much creamier. That vanilla note people talk about? It showed up in spades. It combined with an almond nuttiness that made the finish incredibly smooth. However, it wasn’t all sweetness. There was a lingering spice—a bit of paprika and a touch of black pepper—that kept things interesting.

I did notice the saltiness increasing toward the end, and the draw tightened up just a hair as the oils built up near the head. I had to give it a little more attention to keep it from going out, but the reward was a concentrated burst of burnt wood and lemon drops. Some guys complain that the flavor falls off in the final inch of these Cubans, but if you purge it occasionally (blowing gently through the cigar), you can keep those flavors clean all the way down to the nub. We smoked these until our fingers were practically touching the embers. It was a 2-hour journey, easily.

The Pairing

At a wedding, you take what the bar gives you, but luckily, this place had the good stuff. I paired mine with a neat pour of a Highland single malt—something with a bit of heather and honey to match the floral notes of the Romeo. If I were at home, I’d probably go with a heavy espresso or even a dark rum like Diplomatico. You want something that has enough sweetness to counter the salty, earthy retrohale but won’t drown out the subtle vanilla and almond notes in the final third. Avoid anything too peaty; you don’t want to fight the cigar for dominance.

The Verdict

The Romeo y Julieta Capuletos Edición Limitada 2016 is a “special occasion” stick, plain and simple. It’s not something I’d light up while mowing the lawn or even during a casual Friday night at the lounge. It’s got a history—released in Verona as a nod to Juliet’s family name—and it smokes with that kind of Shakespearean drama. It’s complex, evolving from savory meats and citrus to sweet mocha and cream.

Is it perfect? No. Like many Cubans, you might run into a tight draw, and you definitely need to let these sit in a humidor for a few weeks if they’ve been traveling. But once it’s dialed in? Solid. It’s a sophisticated, medium-to-full-bodied experience that rewards the patient smoker. If you can still find a box or even a single stick in a dusty corner of a humidor, grab it. It’s a piece of 2016 history that has only gotten better with age. Standing on that balcony with Elias, I couldn’t have asked for a better way to mark the moment. It was triumphant, indeed.

Overall Rating: I’d give it a strong “Keep a box for your daughter’s wedding” out of ten. It’s a classic Habano experience that reminds you why we bother with all the ritual in the first place.