Nat Sherman / Ferio Tego Metropolitan Host Hyde cigar, official product photo

Some cigars earn a reputation. The Nat Sherman Host earned something rarer: a survival story. This is the cigar that outlived its own obituary — twice — and today it’s back on shelves doing exactly what it did thirty years ago: being mellow, slightly sweet, and impossible to hate.

The short version of the drama: Nat Sherman, the Fifth Avenue tobacconist that had sold cigars in Manhattan since 1930, was bought by tobacco giant Altria in 2017 and three years later, in the middle of a pandemic, Altria shut the whole premium cigar business down. End of story — except two of Nat Sherman’s own executives, Michael Herklots and Brendon Scott, refused to let it end. In 2021 they formed Ferio Tego and bought the brands back, recipes and all. So yes: the brand has been taken over by Ferio Tego, and if you squint, the rescue was an inside job. Today’s box reads Ferio Tego Metropolitan Host Hyde — new letterhead, same DNA. The name changed. The cigar didn’t blink.

Nat Sherman / Ferio Tego Metropolitan Host Hyde cigar, official product photo
Photo: Ferio Tego via Doc James Cigars

The Blend

The Hyde is the 60-ring gordo of the Metropolitan Host family — 6 x 60, which is to say a cigar with a floor plan. Honduran fillers, a golden Connecticut shade wrapper on the Natural (there’s a broadleaf Maduro sibling for the moody), and the line’s signature sweet tip — a slightly sweetened cap that has been the Host’s handshake since the Clinton administration. It’s rolled at Diadema Cigars de Honduras, which is Davidoff’s factory, which means the construction is the kind of flawless that makes you forget someone in a suit once tried to cancel this blend. MSRP at the 2022 relaunch was $10; street price runs about $11–12 today. The vitola names — Hyde, Harrington, Hudson, Hampton, Hobart — sound like a walking tour of uptown Manhattan, which is exactly what they are. The brand moved out of the city. The city stayed in the brand.

The Look

A shade-golden wrapper with a soft sheen, minimal veins, and a neat, slightly glossy cap where the sweet tip lives. The band splits the difference between old-money Manhattan and new-letterhead Ferio Tego — which, given the history, is the most honest design in the humidor.

First Third

The sweet tip does its dessert thing immediately: honey and brown sugar up front, riding over cream, soft cedar, and fresh hay. No pepper ambush, no aggression — this is a cigar that introduces itself politely and means it.

Second Third

The sweetener fades into the background and the blend itself shows up: toasted almond, buttered bread, a whisper of white pepper and soft leather. It’s still gentle — a “hold your coffee, not your breath” cigar. What impresses is the evenness; the flavor doesn’t dip, it just keeps moving in a straight line, like a well-run diner.

Final Third

Dry oak, black tea, and the Connecticut’s gentle grassiness, with a touch more body in the last inch. Never harsh, never bitter, never in a hurry. The 60 ring gauge buys you a long sit — call it 90 to 100 minutes, or roughly one long-overdue phone call.

Strength & Pairings

Mild, and proudly so. Pair it with coffee with cream, chamomile, a wheated bourbon, or a cream soda if you’re feeling thematic. Skip the peaty scotch and the IPA — either one will steamroll a cigar this polite. The classic move remains the correct one: a big diner breakfast and nowhere to be.

Score: 84/100 — Good | Value Grade: A-

Flavor & Complexity: 34/45  ·  Burn & Combustion: 23/25  ·  Construction & Draw: 18/20  ·  Consistency: 9/10

The Verdict

For thirty years, the Host’s whole pitch has been consistency and value, and Herklots’ own description of the line still reads like its mission statement: mellow, slightly sweet, dependable. The Ferio Tego version keeps every promise. It is not a complex powerhouse, and at 6 x 60 it asks for your afternoon. But at $11-ish for a Davidoff-factory Honduran that smokes like a $15 cigar for an hour and a half, the value math is unambiguous. This is the cigar you hand a nervous first-timer, the one you reach for at 9 a.m. on a Sunday, the one that survived Altria. If a tobacco giant couldn’t kill it, your humidor certainly won’t.