Cigar Review: Andalusian Bull

The Sleeping Giant

Introduction

Few cigars cast a longer shadow than the Andalusian Bull. Released by La Flor Dominicana in 2016 and crowned Cigar Aficionado’s Cigar of the Year, it quickly became a symbol of strength and showmanship — known as much for its sculpted chisel-figurado shape (6½ x 64) as for the mythos that surrounds it. Rolled at Tabacalera La Flor S.A. in the Dominican Republic, the Bull features an Ecuadorian Corojo wrapper over Dominican binder and filler, retailing in the $15–$20 range depending on availability.

Tonight, under a warm Kansas sky with a cold Heineken in hand, I lit up the Bull hoping to revisit that legend. I came for thunder. What I found was silence.

Pre-Light Impressions

There’s no denying the cool factor. The chisel head. The bull silhouette band with its deep green, gold, and black trim. The cigar feels like a trophy — something carved more than rolled. The wrapper is leathery brown, soft to the touch but visibly veined, with clear seams and a bold taper toward the foot.

Aromatically, the wrapper offers little — just a whisper of clean hay. The foot carries a hint of black licorice and soft sweetness. Cold draw reveals a mild barnyard note, a bit of dry wood, and subtle sweetness. Airflow is excellent, though the cigar is dense and firm — clearly a long-haul smoke.

First Third

Lighting the Bull with a double-flame Zippo torch felt appropriately theatrical. It took a while to ignite — a thick roll like this demands patience — and a bit of scorch was needed to even out the burn. But the cigar responded like a machine, self-correcting and burning slowly with a clean red cone and strong ash.

Initial flavors were muted. Some espresso, some leather, and a very fleeting blueberry sweetness that vanished as quickly as it arrived. The smoke output was surprisingly light for such a thick vitola, and the retrohale was so soft it barely registered — almost like the scent of fabric softener, oddly synthetic in its subtlety.

Despite flawless construction, the Bull struggled to find its stride. There was no spice, no power, and little development. At best, it was a cigar that looked the part but whispered the role.

Second Third

The ash held impressively — a clean, toothy tower of grey-white stone. Smoke production remained modest, and flavors continued to retreat. The once-promising fruit note disappeared completely. What remained was a base of dry leather and a clean but distant finish. The retrohale continued to lack personality.

At this point, disappointment set in. This was a cigar with elite construction and zero emotional resonance. I kept reaching for the Heineken, hoping it would revive my palate. Instead, it only revealed how little the Bull was doing on its own.

Then — out of nowhere — something shifted.

A sudden jolt of spice hit through the retrohale, followed quickly by salt, espresso, and a subtle return of bitterness. For a few minutes, the Bull woke up. It was unexpected and exciting. The smoke warmed, the tongue tingled, and the flavors flirted with complexity.

But it didn’t last.

Final Third

After another ashing, the Bull showed a brief uptick in smoke production and a trace of cashew and salt on the palate. Strength remained mild. The flavors grew slightly more intense, but remained basic. The bitterness faded, but so did any sense of identity.

It felt like a cigar made of excellent materials that simply had no narrative arc. No layers. No cohesion. Not a single pepper note from a brand known for its spice. Even the late nuttiness — while pleasant — came too little, too late.

There’s a saying: The bigger they are, the harder they fall. And while I wouldn’t call the Andalusian Bull a failure, I would call it a deeply puzzling disappointment.

Final Thoughts

The Andalusian Bull is a cigar of contradictions. It is beautiful but emotionally flat. It is expertly constructed but strangely uninspired. It smokes cleanly, but with little character. It hints at greatness, then fades into forgettability.

Maybe this cigar needs years in the humidor. Maybe it sings when paired with the power of LFD’s Double Ligero in a yin-and-yang tasting session. But on its own, tonight, it simply didn’t rise.

Some cigars whisper because they are elegant. This one whispered because it had nothing to say.

The Retrohale Score: C+ (82)

Flawless construction, near-silent flavor. A trophy smoke better admired than tasted.