My Father Blue Toro

For most of the 21st century, the García family’s empire has been defined by one country: Nicaragua. What began as José “Pepín” García’s modest Miami-based workshop evolved into one of the largest vertically integrated cigar operations in the world, complete with sprawling farms, a 140,000-square-foot factory in Estelí, and an ever-growing lineup of award-winning cigars. Yet despite the accolades, My Father has maintained a forward-thinking mindset. Their attention now points north, across the border into Honduras.

The García family’s expansion into Honduras began quietly in 2022 with the purchase of farmland in the Talanga region, where they started cultivating their own tobacco. At first, the move appeared to be a simple extension of their existing agricultural footprint, a continuation of the same vertically integrated approach that’s long defined the My Father operation. But behind the scenes, a much larger plan was taking shape. By late 2024, construction had wrapped on a 78,000-square-foot facility in El Paraíso. Now known as My Father Cigars Honduras, the factory marks the family’s first venture into Honduran cigar production (their third country of production to date), alongside Nicaragua and the United States.

Their debut project from the site is My Father Blue, a nod to the Honduran flag. Naturally, the blend centers around Honduran tobaccos grown at the Garcías’ own Finca La Opulencia farm in Talanga, an 890-acre estate that the family purchased roughly three years ago. A Connecticut Broadleaf rosado wrapper surrounds the Honduran binder and filler tobaccos (Corojo and Criollo varietals), being billed as a medium-to-full-bodied profile intended to kick off a new era from My Father Cigars.

My Father Blue Toro Breakdown

Appearance

The My Father Blue Toro shows off a soft box-press shape that feels balanced and uniform from head to toe. The wrapper has a subtle fuzziness to the touch—somewhere between papery and velvety (reminiscent of a brown paper lunch sack in texture). The hue lands right in the standard natural range (surprising to see from Broadleaf), having medium-thick veins and a few small bumps from the binder beneath. Seams are slightly loose in a few areas, but not enough to cause concern, and the triple-cap head is cleanly applied.

Aromatically, the wrapper leans dry and papery, carrying light traces of pencil shavings, cedar, and a faint mineral edge. The foot brings a more inviting warmth, with black pepper, basil, and a hint of bready sweetness rounding things out. After a straight cut, the pre-light draw lands in the medium range (perhaps a touch looser than ideal), bringing flavors of sourdough bread, salt, and a subtle mineral twinge on the finish.

Smoking Experience

My Father Blue lights up with a flash of char that lingers longer than expected, laying a campfire-like footprint across the palate before giving way to a faint sweetness and a touch of salt from the cut head resting on the tongue. There’s black pepper in the mix, though it takes a moment to find its stride, building gradually through the nose rather than dominating the profile outright. The draw resistance is surprisingly contradictory to the pre-light experience (a tick to the firm side), but still plenty open for consistent smoke output. The burn line wavers here and there, yet remains manageable, forming a soft, white ash that’s light and flaky enough to keep you on guard with each tap. The smoke sits around medium in flavor, medium-light in strength, and medium in body through the early stretches.

A slow retrohale brings red pepper to the forefront, expanding the profile with some sharpness to offset the residual campfire note. The ash holds for about an inch and a quarter before the first touchup becomes necessary to correct a light canoeing pattern. Beneath it all, a restrained sweetness keeps things interesting, cutting through the cigar’s savory and salty core. There’s a subtle peanut brittle quality (though toned down on the sugar) and cream through the finish that’s more kefir than heavy cream, carrying a faint tanginess that puckers the cheeks.

As the cigar settles near the halfway mark, the flavor loses a bit of its initial richness, becoming slightly airy and faster burning than expected. Another small touchup brings things back in line. The kefir tang shifts toward a cream cheese texture (more on the dense side), while roasted nuts begin to steer the flavor core. The persistent char remains as a base note, but the secondary flavors begin to feel more baked and toasty (fairly characteristic for the Honduran-forward recipe), pulling together into something like a cinnamon muffin with nuts (cinnamon crust atop the fluffier muffin base). Slowing the pace helps prevent overheating, revealing faint touches of anise, birch, and mineral through the finish.

By the close, the sweetness has finally bowed out, leaving behind the darker side of the experience—rooty, roasted, and slightly overtoasted. It never tips into harshness, but it does lose the luster that carried it through the midsection. The profile finishes at medium in flavor, medium-plus in both strength and body.

Would I Smoke This Cigar Again?

I believe I will! Sure, it’s not perfect—sort of like a band you enjoy shifting genres (it might take ’em an album or two to get back in the groove)—but it’s got a fair price point and enough complexity (at least through the first half) to keep your attention. I’d say they’re leaning in the right direction if My Father can build on this one as they head down the Honduran route.

• Finally, a My Father line extension that makes sense! My criticism applies to the My Father-branded cigars (i.e., not the Flor de las Antillas or DPG or El Centurion, etc.), where most extensions don’t have enough narrative to differentiate themselves. My Father La Gran Oferta, My Father La Promesa, My Father La Opulencia… there’s no way anyone’s differentiating those without looking up the blends. They all have Nicaraguan cores and near-identical bands. Usually (with the exception of La Opulencia), there’s not even much difference in the wrapper, being variations in shade specificity: Habano rosado… Habano rosado claro… Habano rosado claro oscuro… (okay, that’s pushing the exaggeration). But here we have a familiar look that resonates. The name’s blue, the band’s blue, the country’s blue: it’s Honduran and my brain has a chance at categorizing it away in its own little brain file for later.
• Currently, the My Father Blue ranks on Dojoverse as “98% Smokable,” placing in the top 10 percent of cigars on the all-time leaderboard.

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