Cigar Review: Black Label Trading Company – Morphine

A cigar called Morphine better know what it’s doing.

It can’t just be strong—it has to be hypnotic. It can’t just be dark—it has to be inviting.

This 7¼ x 42 Lancero from Black Label Trading Company walks that line with confidence. Rolled at Fábrica Oveja Negra in Estelí, Nicaragua, the Morphine uses a Mexican San Andrés Maduro wrapperover a Nicaraguan Habano binder, with a Nicaraguan filler blend that smolders with complexity. The vitola feels elegant in hand—slightly thicker than a traditional Lancero—which adds just enough weight and presence to ground its slender frame.

Black Label cigars can feel intimidating. Their branding is moody. Their cigars are dark. Their bands feature skulls and razors and names that sound like medical warnings. They’re almost the tattoo artist of the boutique world (sorry, Tatuaje). But once you spend time with them, you realize they’re not out to hurt anybody—they’re in the business of flavor.

This Lancero version of Morphine is the perfect example. It’s not a cigar that screams for attention—it draws you in slowly. Like the biker with full-sleeve tattoos who rides a Harley but dresses up as Santa for the kids at Christmas, there’s a quiet generosity beneath the edge. You just have to look past the leather and smoke to see it.

Pre-Light Impressions

Visually, the cigar is rustic in a refined way. The wrapper is toothy and textured, with visible veins and a tight pigtail cap that feels deliberate, almost ceremonial. The Lancero format adds elegance, but the slightly wider ring gauge (42 instead of a traditional 38) gives it satisfying weight in the hand.

The wrapper gives off an aroma of damp cedar with a faint hint of dried fruit, earthy and slightly sweet. Moving to the foot, the profile shifts entirely—it’s surprisingly bright, with berry notes that verge on cherry, lifting the mood and teasing unexpected depth. The cold draw is clean and lively, full of fruitiness that stands in stark contrast to the cigar’s dark, imposing appearance. The contrast is striking. The cigar looks like a thunderstorm, but the cold draw suggests sunlight on a fruit bowl.

First Third

As soon as it’s lit with a wooden match, the tone shifts dramatically. The bright fruitiness from the cold draw disappears, giving way to thick, warm, San Andrés-heavy smoke that immediately fills the palate. There’s a touch of sweetness—like sugar crystals dissolving gently on the tongue—balanced by subtle notes of earth and leather humming quietly in the background. A faint trace of spice begins to emerge, not loud or aggressive, but present enough to keep things interesting. 

The smoke itself is shockingly dense, almost chewy in texture—an unexpected richness for a Lancero vitola. But the retrohale is where the cigar truly announces itself, unleashing an explosion of bright, electric white pepper. The contrast between the subtle palate and the piercing retrohale creates a kind of rhythm—like a volley between tennis players, or better yet, like savoring steak between sips of dry red wine. It’s not just bold—it’s graceful.

Second Third

Here, the cigar hits its stride. The sweetness deepens into something rich and indulgent—full-on molten chocolate fudge, the kind you’d drizzle over a sundae at Dairy Queen after a childhood baseball game. As it melts across the palate, a layer of leather begins to rise—not the rugged, stiff kind associated with saddles, but soft and pliable like a well-worn baseball glove. The imagery becomes vivid: sitting in the summer sun after a game, glove resting in your lap, eating ice cream with your friends. The retrohale still brings spice, but the pepper has mellowed. What was once sharp and electric now smolders like a glowing ember—present, steady, and grounding. The fire-and-syrup rhythm from the first third transforms into a slow, confident burn. The cigar doesn’t lose energy—it gains depth.

Final Third

The smoke thickens again in the final stretch. The sweetness pulls back just enough to make space for a resurgence of white pepper—only now it’s coming in full throttle. The retrohale blasts back like a friend who just slammed a Red Bull, reenergized and ready to make a scene. The cigar warms up noticeably, as if it wants to jolt you awake for one last impression. A slight tingle rises in the back of the throat—not harsh, but enough to say, “Remember me.” Even at rest, the cigar continues to pour out thick, ambient smoke, the aroma lingering just beyond reach but undeniably rich and compelling. 

By this point, the cigar is etched into the room and etched into memory. Construction from start to finish is flawless. The draw is perfect, the burn remains razor-sharp, and the ash stays dense and toothy—coiled like compressed mineral, never once flaking. When it’s time for the bands to come off, they respond with silent grace: firm when untouched, but peeling away cleanly the moment you ask. You don’t just notice the craft while smoking it. You feel it.

Summary: A Cigar That Leaves a Mark

The Morphine Lancero is not a cigar to be smoked casually. It asks for your time. It rewards attention. Because this cigar doesn’t just leave behind smoke—it leaves behind a presence. It lingers in the room, in the air, and somewhere behind the sternum. It isn’t loud. It isn’t perfect. But it’s honest. It comes on strong, softens unexpectedly, and finishes with a surge of clarity that makes you sit up and pay attention. You don’t just remember the flavor—you remember the feeling. It demands your attention, not with force, but with gravity. And when it’s over, you don’t look for another cigar to follow it. You sit with it a while. Because Morphine doesn’t fade out. It lingers.

The Retrohale Score: A (93)

Boxworthy excellence. Brooding, balanced, and beautifully crafted.