Ceramic Jar Cohiba Piramides EXTRA

Description

I was sitting at Sal’s basement table last Tuesday, the kind of heavy oak beast that’s seen more bad bluffs than a courthouse. The air was already thick with the smell of cheap beer and the lingering ghost of Sal’s wife’s lasagna, but I wasn’t really there for the cards. I’d just spent the afternoon signing away my father’s old printing press—the “big deal” I’d been chasing for three years. The check in my breast pocket felt heavy, like lead. It was a lot of money, more than I’d ever seen at once, but it felt like I’d just sold a piece of my childhood. Bittersweet doesn’t even cover it. It felt like winning a race but realizing you’d run in the wrong direction.

I needed something to anchor me. Something that didn’t taste like regret or ink. I reached into my travel humidor and pulled out the one stick I’d been saving for a “monumental” occasion. I didn’t feel like celebrating, but I felt like I needed to acknowledge the gravity of the day. You ever have those moments? Where you aren’t happy, exactly, but you know you’re in a moment you’ll remember when you’re eighty? That’s what this was.

That smoke? The Cohiba Piramides Extra. I’ve looked at it for months, just sitting there in its little cedar coffin, waiting for the world to change. Well, the world changed on Tuesday. I clipped the head, felt the weight of it, and ignored Sal asking me if I was “in or out.” I was definitely in, just not on the hand.

The Specs

Construction: The Feel of the Gold Standard

I gotta say, before I even put a flame to this thing, it felt substantial. If you’re used to the standard Piramides, this “Extra” version feels like it went to the gym and actually stuck to the routine. That 54 ring gauge gives it a girth that feels right in the hand—not like you’re holding a club, but like you’re holding something of consequence. The wrapper was that classic Colorado shade, maybe a bit more on the golden-tan side, with a slight sheen that caught the dim light of Sal’s overhead lamp.

I took a second to look at the band. I’m a sucker for details, and the holographic Cohiba band they started using for these (similar to the Behike line) is a nice touch. It’s got those little “heads within heads” and the security features that make you feel a little better about what you paid for it. Let’s be real: with Cubans, you’re always a little paranoid. But the construction here was tight. No soft spots, no weird lumps. The taper at the head was sharp, and the foot looked like it had been packed by someone who actually gave a damn about their job.

The pre-light draw gave me exactly what I expected from high-end Vuelta Abajo leaf. It was a mix of dry hay, a little bit of honey, and that distinct “barnyard” aroma that sounds gross to non-smokers but is basically perfume to guys like us. It was easy, maybe a little more open than I expected for a torpedo shape, but I wasn’t complaining. I used a straight cut, just taking off the very tip to keep that concentrated smoke channel.

The Flavor Profile: A Journey Through the Thirds

The First Third: The Sweet Goodbye

Lighting this up while Sal was trying to explain why he folded a pair of Jacks was the perfect distraction. The first few puffs were surprisingly bright. I got a lot of that “grassy” note that Cohiba is known for, but it was backed up by a heavy hit of honey and mocha. It wasn’t an “in your face” kind of spice; it was more like a warm greeting. There was this creamy, buttery texture to the smoke that coated my mouth. It felt expensive. You know that feeling? When the smoke has a physical weight to it? That was this.

About an inch in, a little bit of cinnamon started creeping in. It played well with the honey. It reminded me of the coffee my dad used to drink in the office of the press—black, but with a weird cinnamon stick he’d use to stir it. It was a bit of a gut punch given why I was smoking the thing, but it was a solid, comforting start. The burn was even, and the ash was a light, flaky gray that held on for a good inch and a half before I got nervous and tapped it into Sal’s crystal ashtray.

The Second Third: The Meat of the Matter

As I moved into the middle of the cigar, the “Extra” part of the Piramides Extra started to show its face. The strength ramped up from a polite medium to a firm medium-full. The grassiness faded away, replaced by a much deeper cedar and cocoa vibe. This is where the cigar really found its legs. I started noticing a leather note—like a new baseball glove or an old library chair. It was earthy but clean.

The mocha from the start turned into more of a roasted coffee bean flavor. It wasn’t sweet anymore; it was getting serious. Every time I took a puff, I’d look at that check on the table next to my chips. The cigar was keeping me grounded. It had this complexity that demanded you pay attention. If you try to smoke this while you’re distracted, you’re wasting your money. I found myself slowing down, letting the smoke linger. There was a subtle spice on the retrohale—not pepper, more like nutmeg. It was warm and sophisticated.

The Final Third: The Long Finish

By the time I got down to the final two inches, the poker game had slowed down, and the bittersweet mood had settled into a quiet acceptance. The Piramides Extra didn’t get bitter, which is usually my biggest gripe with large ring gauge Cubans at the end. Instead, it got darker. The earthiness took over completely, and that nutmeg note I’d picked up earlier became the star of the show. It was a long, lingering finish that stayed on my tongue for minutes after each draw.

The heat stayed manageable right down to the nub. I didn’t want to put it out. It was like the cigar was helping me process the end of that chapter with the printing press. It was rich, heavy, and very “present.” The very last puffs were all about dark cocoa and a bit of charred wood. No harshness, just a solid, powerful conclusion to a ninety-minute experience.

The Pairing: What Matches the Mood?

I was drinking a Highland Park 12. I wanted something with just a hint of peat and a bit of honey to match the cigar’s opening. It worked. The saltiness of the scotch cut through the buttery texture of the smoke perfectly. If I weren’t in a “bittersweet” mood, I’d probably suggest a dark, aged Cuban rum—something like Havana Club 7. You need something with enough backbone to stand up to the medium-full body of the Piramides Extra, but nothing so smoky that it drowns out those subtle honey and grass notes in the first half.

If you’re a coffee drinker, a straight double espresso would be the way to go. The mocha and coffee notes in the tobacco would harmonize with it like a choir. Just stay away from anything too sweet or fruity; you don’t want to mask the complexity of the leaf.

The Verdict

Look, I’m not going to tell you this is the “greatest cigar ever made” because that’s a load of crap. But I will say this: the Cohiba Piramides Extra is a hell of a piece of craftsmanship. It’s a cigar for when you have something to think about. It’s not a “mowing the lawn” smoke. It’s not even a “celebrating a promotion” smoke. It’s a “life just changed” smoke.

Is it worth the price? That’s between you and your bank account. It’s a premium product, and it acts like one. It’s consistent, it’s complex, and it lasts long enough to let you actually settle into a conversation or a thought. For me, on a night when I was saying goodbye to a part of my family history, it was exactly what I needed. It felt substantial in a world that felt a little too fluid right then.

Final Thought: If you’ve got a box of ten, keep them for the big shifts in your life. The Piramides Extra is a companion for the long haul. It’s solid. It’s dependable. And it tastes like the best parts of a Cuban tradition that—much like my dad’s printing press—is becoming harder and harder to find.

I put the nub out, tucked the check into my wallet, and finally called Sal’s bluff. I lost the hand, but honestly? I didn’t care. I’d had a good hour and a half with a Cohiba, and for the first time all day, I felt like everything was going to be just fine.