Cigar Review: Romeo y Julieta 150th Anniversary

A Legacy in Three Acts

Introduction: Wherefore Art Thou, Romeo?

This wasn’t meant to be a love story—but it became one.

Romeo y Julieta has rarely gripped my attention. I’ve smoked enough red-banded RyJs to know the brand as competent but rarely captivating. But when the 150th Anniversary cigar was released—a blend crafted as a tribute to the finest growers and blenders across the cigar world—I decided to give Romeo another chance. Cautiously. Curiously. Unprepared.

Rolled in the Dominican Republic at Tabacalera de García, the 150th Anniversary comes dressed in a luxurious Ecuadorian Sumatra wrapper, grown and fermented by A.J. Fernandez, and wrapped around a Mexican San Andrés binder sourced from the Turrent family, the foremost name in Mexican tobacco. The filler is a cross-continental chorus: Peruvian and Honduran tobaccos grown by the legendary Plasencia family, and Dominican leaf from José Mendez & Co., one of the oldest and most respected growers in the DR. Somewhere in the heart of this blend lies an aged, undisclosed leaf—a quiet mystery that adds to the allure.

The vitola I selected was the Balconet—a 6 x 54 toro—and I paired it with a pour of Macallan 12 Sherry Oak. The price? Around $27. The intention? Pure theater.

What I experienced was no ordinary cigar—it was a play in three acts.

A romantic tragedy. A tightrope walk in velvet slippers.

It danced. It whispered. It unraveled.

And I already want to smoke it again.

Pre-Light Impressions

The cigar feels dense and luxurious in the hand—firm like a well-made scroll, with a wrapper that looks like silk under normal light but reveals deep veins and tiny tooth under close inspection. The parchment-colored bands—gilded with gold embroidery and baroque flourishes—are among the finest I’ve ever seen. They don’t feel like branding; they feel like tribute.

Aroma off the wrapper is barnyard and cocoa, rich and expressive. The foot reveals a darker secret: ripe fruit, nearly raisin-like, with a whisper of chocolate-covered cherry.

First Third – The Dance Begins

Lighting the cigar released smoke that told a story of transformation. The scent began sweet and mellow, then curled into something richer and spicier, like a curtain being pulled back to reveal a deeper stage.

The draw was flawless despite the cigar’s tight construction—like putting a tree branch in your mouth but somehow producing rich, billowy smoke. From the first few puffs, flavors emerged with playful unpredictability: dry oak, a subtle chocolatey sweetness, and a lively clove and white pepper spice that danced on the tongue. The retrohale was a blast of spice at first—lava through the nostrils—but quickly settled into a rhythmic backbone, a bass drum beat driving the experience forward.

This third felt like a game of hide and seek. Each puff brought a shift. Just when I thought I’d pinned down the profile, it ducked behind another tree and peeked from the shadows. Flavors teased and retreated—sweetness one moment, spice the next, then wood and dark fruit in tandem. Occasionally, they’d come together in perfect unison, like a three-person tandem bike trucking forward in rhythm. The experience wasn’t just flavorful—it was animated, alive with motion and intention. And always, in the background, there was a mysterious sweetness—somewhere between chocolate and dark hard candy—never obvious, but always enhancing the ride.

Second Third – The Tightrope & the Echo

Stepping into the second act felt like taking that first uncertain step onto a high wire. It was beautiful, yes—but dangerous, too. The cigar shed its earlier playfulness and adopted a more serious tone. The blend didn’t just evolve—it intensified. It was as though a tightrope walker beckoned me onward, each puff a daring invitation to go further.

The smoke continued to prime the palate, but now it wasn’t just about preparing the next flavor—it was about deepening the emotional tone. Each puff was more deliberate, more composed. Spice evolved into sophistication. A fleeting mineral note—reminiscent of salted caramel—added nuance. The sweetness persisted, but it darkened and matured. And then came the surprise: a brief, shadowed citrus note. Not the brightness of lemon, but something deeper—blood orange, maybe even grapefruit peel. It flickered, then vanished. Not light, not fleeting—just gone. It danced off into the darkness.

The cigar was so captivating, I hesitated to reach for the whisky. But when I finally did, the Macallan 12 Sherry Oak proved to be the perfect companion. Its richness elevated the cigar’s darker tones. The cigar, in turn, sharpened and clarified the whisky’s depth. The two didn’t compete—they illuminated each other.

The cigar, like the tension of the moment, was at its peak.

I kept waiting for the protagonist to stab himself in the heart.

And then tragedy struck. 

The Tragic Turn

When I removed the bands, both pulled visible tears in the thin outer wrapper. I’m cautious with band removal—I didn’t rush it. This was simply a case of over-glue, and as I entered the final third, the wrapper began to unravel. I pressed gently with my fingers to keep it intact. It smoked on. 

It wasn’t delicate in the sense of weakness—it was fragile like art.

Even as it unwrapped, the cigar remained flavorful, balanced, and strong to the nub. It didn’t collapse, but the spell was broken. The stage had cracked. The damage reminded me that I was not smoking perfection. I was watching beauty bleed beneath the gold.

Final Third – Graceful Unraveling

The strength built gently—not a punch, but a final note sung in a lower key. Bitterness arrived, just faintly—more of a reflection than a flaw. The sweetness waned. The spice faded. The burn line remained perfect.

Despite the unraveling, the cigar held its composure to the end. It limped. It bowed. It finished with dignity. A performer, still on stage, even as the costume tore and the spotlight dimmed.

Summary: Of Love and Death

The Romeo y Julieta 150th Anniversary is a love story told through smoke—

rich with feeling, elegance, and flaw.

It dances. It dares. It breaks your heart.

And even as it unravels, it whispers:

Come back. Light me again. Let’s fall one more time.

This is not just a cigar. It’s a performance. A tribute to legendary growers. A celebration of complexity. A beautiful tragedy that refuses to be perfect—because perfection isn’t the point.

Even knowing how it ends, I yearn to start again.

To relive the story.

To stand atop the tightrope and stare death in the face.

Even if it means another tragic ending.

The Retrohale Score: A (95)

Poetic, complex, and emotionally captivating with refined balance, layered transitions, and an unforgettable emotional arc that evokes Shakespearean depth.