Cohiba Behike 54

Description

Product Specifications

I was richer, more powerful on paper and ostensibly “victorious.”

But do you ever feel that way? That empty, silent thud in the chest when the chase is done at last? It’s not the melancholy you feel. On the deck now, salt air clinging to my skin, I was somehow more alone than in those broke and scrambling days.

I didn’t want a party. And I did not want a bunch of people slapping my back and drinking my gin. I wanted something that could bear the weight of the silence.” I reached into my travel humidor, past the day smokes and “good enough” sticks, and I grabbed the only thing that I felt was appropriate for a win as big as this one. I sat there for a long time just looking at it, the wind filling the sails of boats far out.

I needed an escort who didn’t talk. I needed a smoke as complicated as the clusterfuck of emotions I was pushing through. I had to see if the hype I’d heard in every lounge from London to Havana really held water or was just another shiny bauble on a shelf. The Transition: That smoke?

The Cohiba Behike BHK 54. I’ve been around the block. I’ve smoked sticks that cost more than my first car and others I bought in dusty corners of a shop in Ybor City. But the Behike 54 is a different beast.

You don’t just light this sucker up because it’s Tuesday. You light it as a nod to gravity in the moment. It’s the flagship of Habanos S. A, originating from the El Laguito factory — that’s where they married cigars for Castro, and rolled them. This is more than just tobacco; it’s a fold of Cuban history in a leaf.

Product Specifications
Build: The Hand Feel

The first thing I felt as I pulled it out was the weight.

It feels substantial. Many cigars are like rolled-up leaves, but this felt as if it were carved from a single work of man’s hands. The wrapper is a beautiful, oily Colorado shade—reddish brown and smooth (touch) like an old leather chair. There is a bit of sheen to it, enough to let you know the oil is right where it should be.

I rubbed my thumb across the pigtail cap unique to Laguito rollers, and I had that feeling again of respect for the hands that made this. I have to say: It’s pretty tight in there. No soft spots, no lumps. It is firm but gives you just enough resistance if you squeeze it.

The smell off the foot was classic, unembellished barnyard — generous hay, damp earth and a whiff of something sweet, honey stored in a cedar box. I cut it up as straight as I could just taking the top of the cap off. The pre-light draw was perfect. Not so loose, not quite suck through a straw, but just enough resistance to let you know it’s packed with high-quality long-filler.

I could taste cold cedar notes, and quite a nuttiness to it. And it felt expensive, before I ever set a flame to it. Out on the water, where the wind was blowing to douse my light, I used a lazy flame to go slowly. You don’t rush the lighting of a Behike.

You toast the foot until it lights up like a coal in a forge, then you draw that first, leisurely pull. Flavor Profile: A Three-Act Play
The First Third: The Awakening
The first puffs were surprisingly creamy.

I was bracing for a punch to the gut, but I got a velvet glove. There is much chatter about the
medio tiempo

leaves — those few leaves from the very top of the sun-grown plant that get additional fermentation in barrels. I could taste them immediately. It’s an earthiness with an intensity that isn’t bitter; it’s deep.

Straight out of the gate I got notes of toasted nuts and a very clear espresso vibe. I was out on the deck and the smoke was thick and white in the hot, moist air. The spice was present but it had been put in its place and sat at the back of the throat, whilst cedar and hay very much came to the forefront. It’s a medium-to-full-bodied opening, but the balance is what sucked me in.

Nothing was fighting for attention. It was more like a well-practiced orchestra and every one of them knows his part. Tasting: The Sweet Spot

After about a half hour the cigar moved. This is where the magic goes down.

The remaining spice in the first third dissipated and was replaced with a big push of cream and sweetness.

I’m talking toffee, dark chocolate and a rich leather note that made me think of the inside of some classic car. It was incredibly smooth. I looked out at the dark water, even the melancholy lifting a touch, and I was grateful — for that moment. The burn on this was razor sharp thanks to the rollers at El Laguito.

And, even with the ocean breeze, I didn’t have to touch it up once. The ash was light grey hanging almost two-inches before I gave it a tap. The
medio tiempo

leaves lend it a kind of “chewiness”—the smoke tastes like it has mass on the palate. It’s a nice feeling you don’t quite get from lighter, thinner cigars.

The Third and Final Act: The Big Finish

And as I descended to the last couple inches, the BHK 54 decided it was a good time to remind me of that. The spice returned, but it wasn’t the hay-spice from the outset. This was even braver — black pepper and a hint of cinnamon. The flavors darkened.

Heavy on coffee beans along with a delicate broad stroke of floral, surprisingly given how heavy the cigar was turning into. There was a touch of vanilla on the aftertaste that lasted what seemed like minutes after each puff. It went hot at the VERY end, as I think most cigars do, but didn’t have that “muddy” flavor. It stayed clean. bong in hand until my finger wads basically touching the cherry, I didn’t want to let it go.

The finish was long and creamy, leaving a coat on my palate that kept me seated there for another 10 minutes thinking about everything I’d done to get to this boat, smoke this cigar and take in this moment. Pairing: What to Drink?

I was sipping at neat pour of an XO Cognac. The fruitiness of the dried fruit in the Cognac complemented the earth qualities that dominate the Behike, so much so I smoked my little cigar all the way down. If you’re not a Cognac person, I think a big old Scotch (aged beyond sound reason) would be nice — one with some peat but also some sherry sweetness. You want something that can swim and cast enough to handle the
medio tiempo.

A light beer or well gin and tonic would just be absolutely steamrolled by this cigar. If you are bypassing the booze, you could focus some or most of your alcohol forgery’s flavor on coffee — a double shot of espresso — and in solid form via a chunk of extra-dark chocolate. It really highlights that cocoa flavor in the second third well. Value/Usage: Who Is This For?

Listen, I’m not going to sugarcoat this. This isn’t a “value” smoke. It’s expensive, and it’s hard to find, and there are plenty of cigars that sell for a third as much that are very, very good. But this isn’t about being “good.” This is for the someone looking to commemorate an occasion.

It’s for the guy who just got the case, the woman who just sold the company or for anyone who wants to sit on a sailboat and gain that nice weight for their own life for 90 minutes. Obviously, it’s a standard production cigar (but “standard” is a relative term when dealing with Cuban BHKs). They grow only as many as the harvest permits, especially those scarce top-priming leaves. You find a box and you have the scratch, you buy.

You don’t think about it. You purchase it and then wait for the day that you have earned the right to actually smoke one. Conclusion: The Verdict

The stars had all come out by the time I finished the nub.

The sadness never completely went away — life is never that neat — but in the BHK 54 I had found a container for it. It’s a strong, hard-hitting smoke that somehow remains elegant throughout. It’s balanced, it’s complex and it may very well be one of the most consistently good things you can do with a Cuban leaf. Is it the best cigar in the world?

I don’t believe in “best.” But I’ll say this: in 20 years of smoking, I haven’t had a Behike 54 disappoint. An in your face masterclass on what when you take the best tobacco grown in the Vuelta Abajo, hand it over to the best rollers residing with El Laguito, and actually spend time fermenting right. It’s a cigar you take seriously, for when seriousness is required. And for me, on that boat, it was exactly what the lonely win needed to turn into a quiet celebration.

Solid. Truly solid.