Sancho Panza Non Plus

Description

There is a sound to a silent room, and then there’s the kind of silence that only exists in a space crowded with hope and filled with old books. I was sitting in my father’s study last week, dust motes illuminated by the late-afternoon sun as if it were a spotlight on a stage that hadn’t been used in years. I was packing for a solo adventure in Spain — a sort of “find myself” trip I’d been avoiding for 10 years now — and I was hit with this overwhelming sense of gratitude. Thank you Mr.

Product Specifications

Carroll for having taught me that a good map has more value than a GPS and that a good smoke is worth dozens of quick conversations. I was rooting in the bottom drawer of his mahogany desk, searching for a compass he’d promised me, when I found a tiny, cedar-lined travel humidor. Stored inside like a long-forgotten secret, were three cigars. No flashy stripy bands, no gold foil.

It’s just the humble, rough-hewn look of a brand that doesn’t see any reason to scream. That smoke? The
Sancho Panza Non Plus
. It felt like a sign.

That loyal sidekick, Manching Fang, the guy who kept his feet on the ground while his master was off jousting windmills. Sitting quiet there in the study, I decided, I didn’t need an earthshaking “legendary” cigar for my sendoff. I needed something honest. I needed this.

The Specs
Before I wade into the weeds of how this thing smokes however, let’s take a gander at these “bones.” It’s a classic Vitola, the kind of size that used to be industry standard before everyone decided they needed to smoke small logs.

Feature
Specification
Product Type
Cigar
Vitola de Galera
Mareva
Popular Vitola
Petit Corona
Tobacco Zone
Vuelta Abajo
Construction
Handmade, Long Filler (Tripa Larga)
Weight
8.46 grams
Discontinued
2019
The Initial Impression: Build Quality & Feel
I took the Non Plus out and just looked at it for a minute.

Do you ever wonder why there are modern cigars that are
too
perfect? They could easily be turned on a lathe. This Sancho Panza is not like that? It’s got a rustic charm.

The wrapper’s a little toothy, a bit leathery and the veins are there but don’t stand out. It feels like something that was produced by human hands, not a machine in a cold lab. The weight is lightweight — just over eight grams — but it feels balanced in the fingers. Squeezed it gently, and I have to say, it was not soft.

Maybe a little too firm. Cuban quality control can be hit or miss, and the Non Plus has a reputation of being plugged just a tad. I snipped off the cap with my double-guillotine cutter, and the cold draw proved me out: it was tight. Not squeezing-into-a-milkshake-through-a-straw snug, but you do have to work for it.

The unlit smell is straight-up old-school Cuba. I got heavy blows of dry wood and a hint of that barnyard funk that lets you know the tobacco from the Vuelta Abajo was fermented just right. There was a slight cocoa note on the foot, however for the most part it just smelled like an industrial shop. FIRST THIRD: THE WAKE-UP CALL
Striking this up in my father’s library was almost ritualistic.

I employed a single wooden match and allowed the flame to dance all around the foot until it turned an even cherry red. The first few puffs are critical. There is no “warming up” period involved here. Right away my tongue was assaulted with the flavor of dry wood.

This isn’t the creamy, buttery cedar you get from some high-end blends; it’s more like oak or mahogany. Solid. Real. After about five minutes, a nice peppery heat started to tingle at the back of my tongue.

Enough that o saw I felt it, not enough to be scary. Then this ghostly hint of hazelnut came out of nowhere. The dry wood and oiled nuttiness — it’s an odd contrast — but it works. The bold opened firm medium.

I sat back in the leather chair, watched that curl of smoke reach for the ceiling and felt that pre-trip anxiety just melt. THE SECOND THIRD: INTO THE EARTH
Once I made my way to the shaft of the stick, there was a flavor transition.

The woodiness didn’t vanish, but it did become secondary to a deep and rich earthiness. If the first third was the workshop, the second third is forest floor.

The hazelnut from the start hung around, except that now it got darker, sort of a roasted almond. I began to play with the retrohale (exhaling the smoke out through my nose) and man, that’s where the pepper resides. It’s sharp and punchy. It’ll blast your sinuses if you’re not careful, but it adds a layer of complexity that ensures the “rustic” character doesn’t feel “simple.”
I did notice the draw loosened a teeny bit during this stage, which I was glad for.

Ash was mottled grey, and it held on for an inch before I tapped it into the heavy crystal ashtray on my desk. For a Petit Corona that is, it’s quite a slow burner. And while the official smoke time is 25-30 minutes, I made it to that photo above courtesy of JH earlier or around twenty minutes and was still just halfway though. I wasn’t complaining.

The Third Act: The Stronger It Grows
By the time I got to the final third, the Sancho Panza Non Plus had decided it was over the pretense of subtlety.

The strength increased from medium to a solid medium-full. The flavors got “toasty.” Picture the scent of charred sourdough bread and espresso beans. There was still that earthiness at the base, but this fresh new vegetative note — kind of like green tea or dried hay — kept things interesting. The pepper ramped in the last inch.

It’s a “hot” ending, but not in a distracting way. It’s a hell of a finale to smoke. I didn’t really taste the chocolate, or the cocoa that some reviewers claim satisfaction in finding here; for me this was a start to finish savoury, earthy and spicy experience. I smoked it down hard, feeling the heat in my fingers and hating to let go of the moment, and even more, of the room.

Pairing: What to Drink?

Since I was in the study, I didn’t have access to a round of bars, but for some reason feel as though that was the correct choice. I had a tiny mug of black espresso — no sugar. The coffee’s bitterness was a wonderful compliment to the earthy Sancho Panza. If I were sitting on the patio in Madrid, I’d probably choose a dry Sherry or perhaps a glass of Ron Zacapa.

You need something sweet enough to complement the dry, woody character of the cigar but not so much so that it smothers out the spice. A peaty Scotch would be overkill; you’d just get a war of the smokes. Keep it simple. Keep it honest.

The Verdict
Honestly, I’m a little bummed that Habanos S.A. decided to discontinue these back in 2019 and I’m pretty sure anyone who has gotten their hands on some is as well because they are an absolutely solid smoke.

I understand — the market wants big, over-the-top, “limited edition”-banded cigars that cost a leg and an arm. But the sentiment for the Sancho Panza Non Plus is pure gold as representative of an aspect of Cuban cigar history that we’re shedd