By the Numbers

• Cigar: Arturo Fuente Hemingway Classic
• Vitola: Perfecto
• Size: 7 x 48
• Wrapper: Cameroon
• Purchase Price: $15.45 plus tax
• Approximate MSRP: $13–15
• Purchase Location: Omertà Cigar – Monroe, LA
• Total Smoke Time: 2 Hours, 28 Minutes
• Pairing: Club Soda
• Band Rating: 🎖️🎖️🎖️

Construction & First Impressions

Before this thing was ever lit, Fuente already had my attention.

And I know this sounds ridiculous, but while this cigar was still wrapped in cellophane, it may have had the best-looking UPC sticker I’ve ever seen on a cigar. For a company to put that much effort into something immediately peeled off and discarded tells me they already know the cigar underneath is going to handle the heavy lifting.

After lopping off just enough of the cap for a cold draw, I immediately got hit with this sweet, earthy, chocolatey profile that tasted exactly like Walmart trail mix — the one with raisins, peanuts, and M&Ms.

As I moved toward the foot — and by “examining” I mean openly sniffing it like a psychopath — there was also this oddly clean, earthy smell that landed somewhere in “vet’s office” territory. Not offensive. Not dried dog piss in the corner. Just… strangely clinical-organic.

This would also be my first truly memorable Fuente experience. I’ve absolutely had Fuentes before — I just wasn’t in a place back then where long-term flavor memory was exactly the mission.

Second Third

This is where things got weird.

Not bad weird. Interesting weird.

The sweetness from earlier started fading and the trail mix profile mostly moseyed on along, although some nuttiness remained behind. Less chocolate and sweetness now — more almond-like, maybe even slightly bitter like toasted nuts.

At the same time, a chalky minerality started showing up between draws. Not metallic exactly, but definitely drifting toward that “fridge water left overnight in your Yeti cup” territory.

And if it had gotten any more aggressive, we would’ve officially crossed over into licking nickels.

As we settle into the second act of this three-part series, there’s this strange little bittersweet dance starting to happen.

Every now and then there’s this little zing that makes you wonder if there’s still a gummy bear stuck in your teeth somewhere between sips of that same fridge water.

The ash has also gotten significantly more clingy in this second third. Almost like that crazy one-night stand that suddenly starts talking about your future together.

And I swear this happened in real time. I had literally just complimented this cigar’s ash retention — probably sitting around an inch and a quarter at that point — I bring it in tighter for a closer look… and bam. Now I’m wearing it.

Final Third

As we head into the final act and start getting closer to the band, construction has honestly held up pretty well. The burn line remains respectable, and the cigar itself hasn’t given me much trouble.

Now admittedly, I’m also about to enter Relight #3, but that’s less an indictment of the Hemingway and more a side effect of stopping every three minutes to write this review instead of actually smoking the damn thing.

Flavor-wise though, things haven’t materially shifted from where we were earlier.

I like smoking cigars as close to the band as I reasonably can while still maintaining the integrity of the cigar itself. Part of it is ritual — a constant little reminder of what I’m smoking — but I’m also convinced the closer you get to the band, the warmer the glue gets and the easier removal becomes.

Is that scientifically accurate? Hell if I know. If you’re looking for a peer-reviewed study on cigar glue elasticity, go find a nerd.

Unfortunately, this is also where we encounter the first legitimate construction complaint of the evening.

Now I don’t know how things operate down in the Dominican, but if we assume the Tabacalera factory was located stateside, this particular band was absolutely glued on a Friday about 17 minutes before quitting time.

Is it still going to smoke without any material issues? Absolutely.

Am I thrilled about a $15+ cigar trying to shed its wrapper like a snake halfway through band removal? Not even remotely.

Thankfully, nothing a little old-fashioned lick ’n stick can’t fix.

Now that we’ve a-band-oned the band… yes, that was terrible… we’re officially into the home stretch.

Millennium of Aftermath

So we’ve got to be brutally honest here, because that’s what this brand is supposed to be about.

I’ve got fifteen American dollars, and personally, I’m not spending them here again.

Everything about this cigar wants to scream “premium.” The elegant presentation, the ornate band work, the long perfecto shape, the whole Fuente Friday mythology — all of it combines to tell you this thing should absolutely cash the check it’s writing.

And to be fair, it mostly does.

I spent nearly two and a half hours with this cigar and never encountered anything materially offensive. The construction was mostly solid, the burn line behaved reasonably well, and the flavor profile remained smooth and composed throughout the experience.

But would I personally hand over another fifteen dollars to revisit it?

I can’t honestly say I would.

Now there’s also a greater-than-fifty-percent chance that says more about the reviewer than the reviewed. This cigar may very well live directly in somebody else’s wheelhouse.

But for me?

A five-pack under fifty bucks and I’m absolutely in.

A full box?

I just don’t see myself reaching for this thing twenty-four more times.