I hadn’t planned on lighting up a Bolivar Petit Coronas cigar this afternoon, but the wind had other ideas. It was one of those crisp, early November days—just cool enough to justify a long-sleeved guayabera, and just warm enough that the sun lingered, slow and golden, like it knew I needed the pause. I stood out on the deck, the breeze flirting with the edge of my torch flame. In my hand: the Bolivar Petit Coronas—small in stature, but full of promise.
The petit corona cigar size is often overlooked. At just 5 1/8 inches by a 42 ring gauge, it might seem modest beside the heavier ring vitolas that crowd humidors these days. But let me tell you—there’s a reason seasoned smokers, men who’ve tasted the world, still reach for it. Size doesn’t matter when the soul of the cigar is intact.
This particular stick had been resting for 16 months, drawn from a box dated UBL FEB ’23. I’d dry-boxed it for 24 hours—a small ritual that makes all the difference. The wrapper was smooth, a milk chocolate hue with an oily sheen that caught the last of the sunlight. On the foot, I caught the scent of whole wheat bread and cinnamon—familiar, comforting.
I used a punch cut—tight but not stubborn. The cold draw brought notes of oak and yeast, and I knew I was in for something worth remembering.
As the flame kissed the foot, I took my time with the toasting. Patience is part of the pleasure. The first few draws bloomed with thick, rich smoke. I was met with a wave of stout, bright baking spices, cocoa powder, and toasted cereal—like the first sip of Cuban cafecito with a dash of cinnamon. The retrohale whispered clove and dark roast coffee, with a finish of cedar that lingered just long enough to feel like memory.
The Bolivar Petit Coronas has been around since before the 1960s, part of a proud Cuban tradition under the Bolivar marca, first established in 1902 by José F. Rocha. Named in honor of Simón Bolívar, the liberator of South America, this line has always delivered one thing above all: strength with character. The Petit Corona, in particular, holds its ground as one of five regular production Bolivar cigars today—alongside legends like the Royal Corona and Coronas Junior.
It tastes like confidence in a small frame. It’s earthy, bold, and layered—a full-bodied experience that respects your time, yet never rushes the story.
The second third brought depth, not drama. The vanilla and rich chocolate began to dance with the wood and spice, never competing, only complementing. On the palate: dark chocolate, cereals, and cedar. The retrohale offered malted milk, stout, and warm baking spices—the kind you’d find wafting from a grandmother’s kitchen in Vedado.
It reminded me why I return to this cigar again and again. Despite its compact petit corona cigar size, it never feels rushed. Instead, it gives you space to sit, think, and remember.
At this point, the band came loose easily—always a good sign of a properly maintained humidor. No cracking, no peeling. Just a clean release, like it knew its job was done and the flavor could speak on its own.
By the time I reached the final third, the Bolivar Petit Corona was showing its full maturity. Toasted barley, cedar, vanilla cream, and a trace of leather filled the draw. The burn line wavered just slightly, but needed no correction. I took the final few puffs slow, unwilling to end it too soon. Some cigars beg to be nubbed—this was one of them.
If you’re a fan of stronger profiles—perhaps partial to Nicaraguan or Honduran blends—this cigar is a natural bridge into Cuban territory. It holds its own with malted milk, stout, and spice, a character that pairs just as well with a morning espresso as it does a late-night pour of Dominican rum—like the five-year-old bourbon-barrel-aged bottle I paired with this one today.
They measure 5 1/8″ by a 42 ring gauge—small in size, but full in flavor.
The Bolivar Petit Coronas price ranges between $13 to $15 USD. Not exactly a steal, but for Cuban standards? Respectable. With cigar prices climbing, finding a smoke that offers consistency, boldness, and approachability is no small feat. Whether you’re lucky enough to find Bolivar Petit Coronas for sale in cedar cabinets of 50, or the standard 25-count paper boxes, both deliver beautifully. The key is finding them in stock, and when you do—buy them. Smoke them now, or let them rest. Either way, you won’t be disappointed.
Between this and the Bolivar Royal Corona—another robusto favorite—the Petit Corona is the one I reach for when time is tight, but quality still matters. As for the Bolivar Royal Coronas price, you’ll pay more for size, but not necessarily for flavor. And the Bolivar Coronas Junior? A fine choice, but it lacks the depth this one brings.
Cigars like this don’t scream. They don’t beg for attention. They whisper stories, unfolding with every draw. The Bolivar Petit Coronas review I’m sharing today isn’t just about flavors—it’s about tradition, history, and the quiet joy of a well-made cigar doing exactly what it’s meant to do.
I sat with this cigar under a sky turning amber, with the last warmth of the sun on my face and the sweetness of rum on my tongue. It reminded me that the best cigars aren’t always the biggest—they’re the ones that stay with you long after the smoke fades.
And this one? This one lingers.
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