Cigar Review: Diamond Crown Julius Caeser Shark… Err, Et Tu Brute?

There are cigars that announce themselves with fanfare—and then there are cigars like this one, the Diamond Crown Julius Caeser Shark by J.C. Newman. This elegant and commanding cigar is box-pressed into the 6 1/4 x 54 torpedo format called the Shark. The Shark vitola—originally made famous by Fuente’s Añejo line—shows up here as a tribute to that legacy, and its use by J.C. Newman highlights their close relationship with the Fuente family. This rare vitola is not part of the core Julius Caeser lineup. It typically makes its appearance as part of the limited-edition Toast Across America sampler, where it’s paired with an equally elusive OpusX Shark from Arturo Fuente—a collaboration rooted in craftsmanship and philanthropy. The cigar offers both visual intrigue and a satisfying presence in the hand. Crafted in the Dominican Republic at the Tabacalera A. Fuente factory, it features an Ecuadorian Havana-seed wrapper over a Dominican binder and filler blend, promising a marriage of elegance and richness right from the first glance. The band is regal, dressed in royal purple and gold, with subtle baby blue flourishes that glow against the dark, toothy wrapper. It’s a cigar that carries quiet dignity—no gimmicks, no pretense—just the poise of a name that has endured for centuries.

[Editor’s Note: When I first reviewed this cigar, I believed I was smoking the elusive Julius Caeser Shark—a box-pressed, torpedo-shaped vitola I associated with the rare Toast Across America sampler. But a few days later, I walked into my local cigar shop and spotted a handful of the Et Tu Brute? cigars sitting quietly on the shelf. That’s when it clicked—I had picked up the cigar there earlier, and what I smoked wasn’t the Shark after all. It was this. The Et Tu Brute?—a limited-edition release that shares the same shape, size, blend, and presentation as the TAA Shark, but offered for individual sale. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Like Caesar himself, I didn’t see it coming.

After doing some research, I discovered that many retailers and cigar enthusiasts treat the Et Tu Brute? and the Toast Across America Shark as essentially the same cigar. So I’ve chosen not to revise the original review—it captures the experience accurately, regardless of the name on the box.]

Pre-Light Impressions

The cigar is beautifully constructed, firm in the hand with the promise of a substantial experience ahead. A gentle whiff off the wrapper offers a hint of chocolate, while the cold draw brings in raisin sweetness with a soft underlying earthiness. Cutting the torpedo reveals a flawless draw—smooth, resistant, just enough to engage the senses. There’s a tactile joy in holding this cigar. The wrapper feels textured and natural. The moment is further elevated by the use of a soft flame lighter—a Visol that flickers like a S.T. Dupont, adding an extra touch of elegance to the ritual.

And there’s something undeniably special about the Shark format—a rare combination of box-press and torpedo that hits a personal sweet spot. It may very well be one of my favorite shapes in the cigar world, a visual and tactile standout that makes this stick feel even more special.

First Third

Right from the first draw, this cigar is rich, textured, and expressive. There’s dark chocolate on the palate, dry and satisfying like a well-tempered bittersweet bar. The retrohale is immediately rewarding: cocoa sweetness laced with hints of baking spice—warming, not overwhelming. Thick, steady smoke pours with each puff and continues to drift elegantly from both the foot and the cap between draws. The cigar doesn’t speak in flashes or jolts; it speaks in depth, whispering with a voice that’s low, assured, and resonant.

Second Third

As the cigar settles into its stride, the strength dials back just slightly, allowing the flavors to smooth into a darker register. The sweetness from the first third lingers, but now it’s wrapped in the essence of coffee—and not just any coffee. It’s like finishing a first cup of lightly brewed morning roast, then replacing it with a second cup that’s darker, richer, and more grounded. The bitterness isn’t sharp or aggressive—more of a dark roast clarity, deep and structured, with just a hint of sweetness still peeking through.

Midway through the cigar, a distinct sense of place began to emerge — a taste of terroir that grounded the experience in something primal and earthy. As the initial flavors settled into a richer, deeper register, I picked up a loamy, sun-warmed earthiness that called to mind the image of sitting in a farmer’s field at dusk, the air rich with the scent of soil and tobacco leaves, a small fire crackling in the distance. It wasn’t just flavor — it was atmosphere. The smoke took on the feeling of being connected to the land, drawing its strength and warmth from generations of cultivation.

The smoke continues to billow—rich and full-bodied but not creamy—like an old friend you can sit beside in silence. Wood emerges on the retrohale, first as cedar, then gradually deepening into hickory, bringing a sense of warmth and structure. It’s not trying to show off—it’s trying to settle in, and it does so beautifully.

It’s here the emotional tone of the cigar becomes clear: this isn’t a showpiece—it’s a companion. It doesn’t demand attention but gently invites it. Like walking through the woods with someone you love, not needing to speak to feel understood.

Final Third

The cigar draws you in closer as it nears its close. Warm spice persists, never sharp. The sweetness deepens again—dark chocolate returns, particularly after a sip of water. A rare tingling sensation emerges on the retrohale, a flicker of energy that reminds you the cigar is still alive, still evolving. Wood notes now settle into oak, dry and structured, like the final chord of a well-played song. Construction has remained virtually flawless throughout—stacking dimes ash, razor-straight burn line with only the faintest wave in the final inches, self-correcting with grace.

Even as the cigar begins to fade, there’s a reluctance to let go. This wasn’t just a good cigar—it was a gathered presence, a lesson in stillness, a noble friend. It didn’t try to dazzle. It simply was—and that was enough.

Final Thoughts

The Julius Caeser Shark may whisper, but it does so with the voice of someone who commands a room. There is power in its restraint, comfort in its consistency, and grace in its delivery. It’s not a rollercoaster of transitions—it’s a medley, a quiet symphony of confidence and warmth.

And it’s not a one-off triumph, either. J.C. Newman Cigar Company has shown remarkable versatility across their lines—from the Connecticut-wrapped elegance of the Diamond Crown Robusto, to the charming character of the Angel Cuesta, and the rich, American-grown leaf showcased in The American. Even their lesser-known blends like the Tampa Smokers Connecticut bring thoughtful execution and a clear commitment to craft. There’s something deeply trustworthy about this house—like you’re in good hands no matter which of their blends you reach for.

In a cigar world that often favors loudness and flash, this one teaches the value of composure. Of patience. Of presence.

A box-pressed torpedo with an imperial name—and a soul as steady as the hands that rolled it.

The Retrohale Score: A (93)

Quietly powerful, emotionally resonant, and flawlessly crafted. A meditative, steady presence that rewards patience with rich depth, delicate balance, and subtle transitions. A masterclass in quiet confidence.