This morning, I followed my usual ritual of sitting down in my gazebo and lighting up a cigar. It was a delicious H. Upmann 1844 Añejo. Once I got it going, I found myself doing what I always do—scrutinizing it. What flavor was I picking up? How was it behaving? Where was it going?
Then I stopped myself.
I realized I wasn’t really smoking the cigar. I was studying it.
I’ve spent so much time putting cigars, the industry, and the culture under a microscope that I forgot a fundamental rule of cigar smoking:
Cut. Light. Enjoy.
And here’s the funny thing about it. I chose two cigars from my regular rotation this morning. The plan was simple. I had just published a review, so I’d sit back and smoke for the pure enjoyment of it. And yet, when I lit up the Añejo, I zoomed right into the details.
Zooming in and getting to know the details and nuances of a cigar is part of the hobby. I love the stories behind cigars and the brands, the process behind how they come together, and the personalities that are the heartbeat of the industry. My writing is the result of all that exploration.
But here’s the thing: I don’t smoke any of that.
I could know every component of a blend, the fermentation method used on each leaf, the rolling style, and every other detail that goes into producing a cigar. All of it helps me understand how it’s made. But what matters most is what comes out of it.
So I leaned back in my chair and stopped trying to figure it out.
And instead of fussing over the minutiae of the cigar’s flavor profile, I just sat with it and went about my business, trusting it to give me the satisfaction I needed without scrutinizing it.
And then I thought about the article I wrote about enjoyment. It reminded me that I can’t truly enjoy a cigar if I’m buried in it.
I have to zoom out.
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