Cigar Review: Vegas Cubanas

A Hidden Classic from Don Pepin Garcia

I’ve spent the past few weeks exploring the My Father Cigars portfolio—revisiting old favorites, digging into overlooked blends, and getting a feel for how the brand has evolved over time. The portfolio is massive, spanning everything from powerhouse modern releases to more traditional, legacy-style blends. Somewhere in the middle of that process, I realized how easy it is to focus on the newer releases and completely miss some of the deeper cuts—the ones that might not get as much attention, but still carry the soul of the family’s blending heritage.

That realization led me back to my humidor, where I found something quietly resting, nearly forgotten: a Don Pepin Garcia Vegas Cubanas Torpedo. I lit it up with no real expectations—just curiosity. I wasn’t sure how it would compare to the bolder, more modern blends that dominate the My Father lineup, but I knew this one was different. And sometimes, different is exactly what you need.

Cigar Background

The Vegas Cubanas is a Nicaraguan puro that originally came out of Don Pepin’s El Rey de los Habanos factory in Miami. Today, production has moved to Estelí, but the cigar still carries the DNA of Pepin’s pre-My Father era—a style rooted in traditional Cuban craftsmanship and restraint. It features a Nicaraguan Corojo wrapper over Nicaraguan binder and filler.

The presentation is unpretentious, yet elegant. This torpedo came wrapped in reddish-brown Corojo with a slight sheen, capped by a soft green and gold band that’s subtly rebellious. Green isn’t commonly used in cigar branding due to its association with under-aged tobacco, but here it feels like a confident nod to tradition: “Those who know, understand.”

At around $6.75 a stick by the box on various websites, it’s easy to overlook—but that would be a mistake.

Pre-Light Impressions

The wrapper gave off a warm bouquet of barnyard hay, brown sugar, and sun-baked cedar—a profile that immediately called back to classic, well-aged tobaccos. The cold draw was smooth and effortless, offering raisin, natural tobacco sweetness, and a touch of earthiness. Every sign pointed to balance, not boldness.

First Third

From the first puff, it was clear this wasn’t going to be a loud cigar. It opened with a quiet elegance—cedar, light spice, and rich bread floated forward in soft harmony. The smoke wasn’t thick, but it was sumptuous—aromatic, silky, and refined. Every draw felt purposeful, measured. The cigar wasn’t trying to impress me—it was romancing me.

The spice in this third wasn’t sharp or aggressive. It reminded me of the way Thai food delivers heat—a flavor-driven warmth that gently builds and enhances, rather than the blunt force of a jalapeño. It was present, but restrained, woven deep into the flavors rather than riding on top of them.

This was no knockout punch; it was a soothing voice in a quiet room. And I couldn’t stop listening.

Second Third

As the cigar matured, it slowed its pace. The strength stayed firmly in the medium range, but the flavor deepened into something more floral and reflective. Tea with honey became the dominant impression—soft, soothing, and remarkably consistent. Smoking this cigar felt like walking slowly through a sunlit field of wildflowers—gentle sweetness, fragrant complexity, and a clarity that comes only when you’re not in a rush.

Spice moved to the back of the throat, where it lingered gently—like a memory more than a sensation. There was still a touch of pepper on the retrohale, enough to provide contrast and lift without disrupting the serenity.

Construction was flawless. The ash held firm and clean, with visible tooth in the ash that contrasted against the smooth-looking wrapper. There were no touch-ups needed—just steady, confident craftsmanship. This cigar didn’t feel like it was trying to prove anything. It simply was.

Final Third

The final third didn’t build to a dramatic finish. Instead, it began to fade, like the memory of something beautiful. The floral honey notes remained, but more like echoes. The spice gently flickered on the retrohale, but the flavors softened, blurred slightly—like glimpses of the wildflower field you’d just walked through, now fading into the distance behind you.

In some cigars, a declining final third is a flaw. Here, it felt poetic. The cigar wasn’t overstaying its welcome—it was bowing out with grace. Reminding me of what it had been, not what it needed to prove.

Conclusion

The Vegas Cubanas is not a cigar for those looking to scorch the earth. It won’t rattle your chest or paint your tongue in broad, oily strokes. But if you’re looking for something softer—something that speaks in nuance, memory, and floral beauty—this cigar will take you there.

It feels like a gift from the García family—not because it’s expensive or rare, but because it’s been made with care, offered humbly, and priced in a way that makes it feel like it was crafted for the smoker who still values tradition, restraint, and subtle complexity. This isn’t a cigar made for social media. It’s a cigar made for the quiet evenings, the clean palates, the moments you want to remember.

And if you’re one of the few who finds it? You’ll understand exactly why it doesn’t need to be loud.

The Retrohale Score: A (92)

Gentle, refined, and beautifully balanced with floral honey, cedar, and soft spice, offering a quietly elegant and flawlessly constructed smoking experience.