A reader recently asked me when a cigar is ready, along with several questions about aging and storage. It was a great exchange that I really appreciated. Thanks, Mark! His question came back to me this morning as I wrestled with my own impatience.
I just got a 25-count mazo of La Aurora Special Batch 10-Year Brazilian Maduros a few days ago, and I’ve been chomping at the bit ever since, struggling with whether to light one up so early. I feel like Pinto in Animal House, with the Angel and the Devil on his shoulders, the Devil prodding him to take advantage of the girl and the Angel admonishing him to leave her alone.
The Devil won out.
Part of the reason is that I love figurados, especially perfectos. I look at one, and I just want to light it up. Add the temptation to sample 10-year-aged tobacco, and I couldn’t help myself.
Was it a mistake?
Hell no! As soon as I lit it up, I knew I was smoking greatness. When I get around to formally reviewing this cigar, I’m confident it’ll receive high marks. But I have to be honest: it’s not ready to be fully enjoyed or formally reviewed.
The burn and construction are spot-on. Even as I smoke it outside, the burn line stays straight. It gets wavy at times but self-corrects. The draw is perfect. As for the flavor profile, man-oh-man, it is delicious. It’s fruity and slightly sweet, with nutty and woody undertones and a gorgeous mineral finish that punctuates each puff.
The smoke has an implicit power, no doubt from the boldness of the Arapiraça wrapper, one of my favorites. Blenders note that it can be difficult to use because of its often overwhelming character. Manuel Inoa did a great job keeping that power in balance while still delivering a profile at the upper end of the strength range. I love that.
But if it’s so good, why do I say it’s not ready?
There’s no quantitative answer I can give you. My assessment is intuitive rather than based on explicit measurements. But as tasty as this cigar is today, and despite the aged tobacco used to make it, it still doesn’t feel integrated.
I’ll use a musical metaphor to describe what I’m feeling.
The individual layers are excellent. But they’re like the Three Tenors, Pavarotti, Domingo, and Carreras, doing a concert. When they sing in unison, it’s magnificent, but you can still hear each man’s voice. They’re singing together, yet they’re still a collection of solo artists.
Compare that with a choir whose integration is so tight that you can’t tell where one section begins and another ends. You hear the whole choir as one voice. That’s what I’m waiting for with this cigar. The individual layers are already giving me plenty to enjoy.
But I want to hear them sing as a choir.
Contrast this with the Paul Stulac El Nuevo Comienzo that I reviewed yesterday after less than two weeks of rest. That cigar was ready, and the experience was transcendent. Its tobaccos were fully integrated and working in harmony. I could appreciate the individual layers, but I never felt that I was listening to separate performers. They belonged to one another. In other words, it smoked like a choir.
As I wrote this, I finished the Special Batch. The aftertaste is amazing. It tastes like I just ate a Heath bar. The middle section was incredible, super complex with all the tobaccos burning. But despite those wonderful flavors, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the experience was somehow incomplete. If I rated it on this smoke alone, it would probably land in the low 90s. But based on my experience, I can tell it will score much higher with time.
That feeling brought me back to something Paul Stulac told me yesterday about the El Nuevo Comienzo. I asked why he’d chosen an Ecuadorian Habano Maduro wrapper over Connecticut Broadleaf or San Andrés. His answer went beyond the wrapper choice and into how he thinks about a blend’s future:
We did the contest between blend 25 and 26 and it was so close that according to my recollection it was just the one that I preferred personally. Almost everyone at the factory did not agree with me however reversed their thoughts after aging time. I always like to think of where a cigar is going as opposed to where it is at the moment on the rolling table.
That last sentence captures what I’m feeling with the Special Batch. Paul was looking ahead when he chose his blend, even though most of the people at the factory preferred the other one at the time. After aging, their preferences changed. Those initial impressions hadn’t told the whole story.
I’m approaching this as a smoker rather than a blender, but I recognize and appreciate that sense of looking ahead. I can enjoy every layer in the Special Batch right now and still feel that the cigar has more to give as a whole.
That’s why the ten years of tobacco age don’t settle the question for me. That age got me excited to light it up, but how the blend comes together is what I’m assessing. The individual layers are excellent; the experience still feels like the cigar has more to give.
After smoking it, if Mark asked me that question again, I’d answer it this way: A cigar’s ready when it feels right.
That sounds like an oversimplification, but there’s a lot of smoking experience behind that feeling. In this case, I can point to the excellent construction, the delicious flavors, and the complexity through the middle section. I can explain everything I enjoyed. Yet when I consider the whole smoke, I still feel that something hasn’t quite come together. That impression deserves as much attention as the things I can readily describe.
With the El Nuevo Comienzo, I had that sense of completeness. With the Special Batch, I have a strong sense of potential. Both gave me plenty to enjoy, but they left me in different places. Recognizing that difference is part of deciding when I’m ready to review a cigar.
Experiences like these keep my sense of wonder alive in this wonderful hobby of ours. One cigar may be ready right away. Another, like the Don Pepin Garcia Cuban Classic 1950, may take years to come into its own. That unpredictability keeps me engaged and continually exploring.
So I’ll revisit the Special Batch and pay attention to how those layers work together. Today’s smoke gives me something to compare it with, and I’m glad I gave in to the temptation. Now I want to find out when those three magnificent voices become the choir I’m waiting to hear.
I’ve got twenty-four more to find out.
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