Cigar Review: Avowed Higher Calling

Introduction

Every once in a while, a cigar comes along with a name that carries weight before it’s even lit. Higher Calling isn’t just the latest limited edition from Avowed Cigars—it’s a statement. Conceived by Andrew Considine and Dave West, and crafted in collaboration with Klaas Kelner at Kelner Cigars, S.A.S., this 6.29 x 52 toro features an Ecuadorian Habano wrapper and binder over Dominican Piloto Cubano, Criollo 98, Corojo 99, San Vicente, and Cotuí fillers, it was released just ahead of Father’s Day 2025. Aged two years post-roll and crafted in only 450 boxes, this Dominican blend arrives with whispers of reverence and promises of restraint.

It’s rolled by hand at Kelner Cigars, S.A.S., the boutique operation launched by Klaas Kelner, son of Davidoff legend Henke Kelner. If that name rings a bell, it should. Three generations of blending mastery anchor this cigar’s DNA. And while Higher Calling has its own voice, it unmistakably shares a quiet language with the most refined expressions of the Davidoff legacy.

Katman called it one of the best cigars he’s ever smoked, awarding it a 97 and later a 99. It’s been described as elegant, balanced, and complex. The only question left was whether it could live up to the name.

Tonight, it answered.

Pre-Light Impressions

Higher Calling is immaculately presented—clean seams, flawless wrapping, and an elegant gold-and-white band with subtle black or deep green accents. The wrapper gives off a surprisingly rich barnyard aroma—deep, slightly funky, and inviting for a cigar so light in color.

From the foot, milk chocolate and dark fruit emerge, calling to mind chocolate-covered raisins. The cold draw is flawless—perfect resistance with rich flavor, balancing ripe sweetness with a faint echo of prune. No spice. Just elegance.

First Third

The cigar lights like it was thirsty for fire, and even with a butane lighter it gives off the pleasant note of toasted oak—as if it were struck with a high-end wooden match.

From the first puffs, the cigar offers thick, velvety smoke with a clean, buttery profile. There’s an immediate sense of balance. A little spice, but nothing aggressive—just enough to keep the mind engaged. The dominant note is herbal tea, with an occasional echo of mint. Retrohales are warm and soothing—edging toward white pepper but never crossing that line.

What stands out most in this third is how alluringly clean the cigar is. The moment the smoke leaves the palate, it’s gone. Like a sip of spring water. And yet, the memory of it lingers, drawing you back for another puff. It’s hard to pace yourself with a cigar this smooth.

Second Third

As the cigar deepens, it remains balanced but becomes just a touch more assertive. The tea-like profile shifts from green to black—still gentle, but more grounded. Hints of lemon drift in and out, not sour, just fresh. The sweetness transitions from marshmallow to something more refined—like a single sugar cube stirred into a warm cup of tea.

The ash clings tightly before disintegrating in delicate collapse, never chunking or flaking. The burn line is surgical. Construction is among the finest I’ve ever experienced.

Emotionally, this cigar is peaceful. It doesn’t challenge or provoke. It invites. It listens. It is easy to overlook—but a mistake to ignore. The experience is like a deep breath you didn’t realize you needed.

Final Third

As the cigar enters its final stretch, subtle peat notes and a soft cedar spine begin to surface. The texture becomes slightly oily—not in residue, but in saturation. The smoke is dense, yet the palate remains fresh. Retrohales offer gentle baking spice, with flashes of warmth that occasionally surprise—just enough to remind you there’s still energy here.

Katman mentions flavors like apple strudel and vanilla ice cream. I didn’t pick those up directly, but I understand the sentiment. This is a cigar of restrained sweetness. An exquisite dessert in smoke. I would liken it to a delicate but decadent meal—more sushi than steak. You feel full when it’s over, but never heavy. Satisfied, not stuffed.

The final inch holds steady. Still clean. Still calm. A graceful goodbye.

Conclusion

The Avowed Higher Calling is a cigar of quiet excellence. It may not send you into metaphor-laced reverie, but it doesn’t have to. What it offers is mastery in restraint, saturation without weight, flavor without force. It’s the kind of cigar that rewards attention—but doesn’t demand it.

Would I buy a box? I just might. But not for fireworks. For stillness.

The Retrohale Score: A (93)

 A masterclass in construction, texture, and restraint. A peaceful companion for experienced palates—and a benchmark in quiet complexity.