Dunbarton Year of the Duque

Honor is a quiet kind of power. It doesn’t announce itself loudly—it’s seen in actions, felt in character, and remembered by those who value legacy over noise. In the cigar world, few names carry that sense of honor and consistency quite like Chris Duque—a retired police officer from Honolulu that has over 30 years of dedication to the force, working both in the real world and helping police the cyber world as well. Chris has been a die-hard supporter of Dunbarton Tobacco & Trust for years, helping the brand at trade shows, events, and mentoring cigar smokers new and old about a brand he believes in.

Duque’s influence is quiet but far-reaching, grounded in the same traditional values that cigar culture once celebrated more openly: respect, discipline, and loyalty. So when Steve Saka, founder of Dunbarton Tobacco & Trust, decided to pay tribute to his friend, it wasn’t with fanfare or online accolades—it was with tobacco. Rolled at the Joya de Nicaragua factory in Estelí, the Year of the Duque is a personal, deliberate, and well-earned honor, born from a relationship built over years, not likes.

And in typical Saka fashion, there’s a bit of a wink baked into the release as well. While it bears the “Year of” label, make no mistake, this isn’t a trend-chasing nod to the Chinese zodiac. In fact, it feels like a subtle thumbing of the nose to the deluge of “Year of the [Insert Animal Here]” cigars flooding the market. It’s also a not-so-quiet pushback against the industry gatekeepers who try to claim ownership of words and phrases simply because they’ve trademarked them, regardless of cultural usage or public domain. Year of the Duque doesn’t follow their playbook. It burns it, with honor.

Year of the Duque Breakdown

Appearance

The dark Ecuadorian Habano oscuro wrapper is rich and oily, with slight mottling and a fine tooth that adds texture under the fingers. Veins are minimal, seams are tight, and the roll is firm but not stiff. The band design is clean and has a classic appearance that falls right in line with most “Year of” cigars, with its blood red and embossed gold lettering.

The wrapper offers a deep aroma of cocoa nibs, saddle leather, vinegar, and a touch of earth. At the foot, sweet hay, clove, and mild baking spice join the mix. Clipping the head of the cigar, I find a cold draw that reveals notes of dried cherry, cedar, and a generic sweet tobacco. The draw itself is an excellent 8/10.

Smoking Experience

Upon lighting, the first few puffs are bold and rich—dense espresso, charred oak, and cayenne pepper coat the palate. The smoke is thick and chewy with a slightly sweet, molasses-like aftertaste that hangs at the edge of the tongue. The retrohale punches through with cinnamon and white pepper, clearing the sinuses but not overwhelming. Flavors are medium to full, body is medium to full, and—surprisingly—strength starts at a solid medium.

Within 10 minutes, the cigar settles into its stride. Raw almond, burnt sugar, and dark chocolate build around a woody/earthy core. Strength registers at a steady medium, and body is full and immersive. The draw is effortless—just the right amount of resistance—producing clouds of satisfyingly thick smoke.

The burn is nice and slow, however, as the cigar progresses into the middle, the profile doesn’t evolve much. While the flavors established early on are well-balanced and enjoyable, they remain largely static. A subtle dryness begins to take over the palate, and while a pleasant dry cinnamon note emerges—adding a warm, spiced dimension—the rest of the experience starts to feel repetitive. The retrohale remains smooth, offering a consistent blend of toasted bread and white pepper, but the core notes of espresso, cedar, and earth never quite move or transform.

Popping the band on the Year of the Duque, a growing sense of minerality begins to assert itself. It starts as a faint earthy twang, but gradually builds to something more chalky and metallic, clinging to the back of the tongue in a way that detracts from the experience. While the dry cinnamon lingers as a redeeming flavor, the lack of dynamic transitions makes the cigar feel a bit one-noted by the end.

As I close out this modest-sized cigar, I must give note to how slowly it burned in both samples. Getting an hour out of a thin robusto is no small feat. I will, however, have to ding it a bit, as both samples did require a couple touchups—one having its wrapper audibly pop and crack from head to foot after only 15 minutes. However, it did smoke to completion without more than a couple touchups, so long as I left the band on as long as possible.

Would I Smoke This Cigar Again?

I would, but it’s not one I’m seeking out as a regular DTT rotation. The Year of the Duque is a cigar with purpose. It tells a story, honors a man, and offers a profile that feels old-school in a good way. On the other hand, balance can be a little boring when it overly dominates the smoking experience, and that is what I have found with the Year of the Duque. Not that it was bad, but I wanted more from it—so for that reason, it’s not one I’ll be reaching for regularly.

• Currently, the Dunbarton Year of the Duque ranks on Dojoverse as “98% Smokable,” placing in the top 17 percent of cigars on the all-time leaderboard.

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