Cohiba Behike 56 Ceramic Jar

Description

I remember the smell of Big Sal’s basement more than I remember the poker hands we played that night. It was a mix of old cedar, expensive bourbon, and that distinct, heavy scent of success that only comes from men who have too much money and not enough sense. I was the outlier. I’d been “clean” for five years. No tobacco, no nicotine, nothing but fresh air and the occasional sticks of cinnamon gum to keep my hands busy. I told myself I didn’t miss it. I told myself my palate had moved on.

But then Sal reached into his cabinet and pulled out this white and black ceramic jar. It looked more like a piece of Ming dynasty pottery than a cigar box. He set it right there on the green felt, next to a stack of blue chips. I felt that old itch. My curiosity wasn’t just peaking; it was screaming. I’d heard about these. The Cohiba Behike 56. Not just the cigars, but the limited-edition jar. I looked at the pigtail cap peeking out from the ceramic rim and I knew my five-year streak was about to go up in smoke. I figured if I was going to fall off the wagon, I might as well fall into a pile of the finest tobacco Cuba ever grew.

The Transition: The Cohiba Behike 56

That smoke? The Cohiba Behike 56 from the Ceramic Jar… it wasn’t just a cigar. It was a homecoming. I picked it up, feeling the weight of it, and realized I’d never held anything quite like it. This wasn’t some skinny lancero or a standard robusto. This was a statement. I’m talking about a Laguito No. 6, a vitola that feels like a heavy baton in your hand. It’s thick, it’s imposing, and it demands you clear your schedule for the next two hours.

Construction: The Feel of the “Tribal Chief”

I gotta say, holding this thing is an experience in itself. The wrapper is a gorgeous, oily Colorado shade—not too dark, not too light, just that perfect honeyed tan you only see on top-shelf Cuban leaf. I ran my thumb down the side and didn’t feel a single prominent vein. It’s smooth, almost like suede. And that pigtail cap? It’s a little flourish that tells you the rollers at El Laguito weren’t rushing. They took their time with this one.

The pre-light draw was a revelation. After five years of nothing, my senses were dialed up to eleven. I nipped the end and took a cold pull. It tasted like sweet hay and expensive leather. The resistance was spot on. You ever have a cigar that feels like you’re sucking a milkshake through a straw? This isn’t that. It’s got just enough tension to let you know it’s packed tight with that rare Vuelta Abajo tobacco, but it’s open enough to promise a thick cloud of smoke. It felt solid, heavy, and perfectly balanced in my hand while I fumbled with Sal’s torch lighter.

Flavor Profile: A Two-Hour Journey

The First Third: The Awakening

The moment the foot caught the flame, I knew I was in trouble. The first few puffs were surprisingly elegant. I expected a punch to the face after my long hiatus, but instead, I got a creamy, grassy introduction. It was like walking through a field of high-quality tobacco in the morning dew. There’s a distinct honey sweetness that hits the tip of the tongue, followed by a light toastiness. It’s medium-bodied at the start, very approachable, but you can feel the complexity lurking underneath. The smoke is dense—I’m talking white, velvety clouds that hang in the air and make the poker table look like a scene from a noir film.

The Second Third: The Core of the Beast

As I moved into the second third, the BHK 56 started to show its teeth, but in a refined way. The creaminess stayed, but it was joined by a rich cedar note and a hit of vanilla. It’s a weird combination if you think about it, but on the palate, it’s a masterpiece. I started noticing some nutty flavors—walnuts maybe?—and a bit of caramel on the finish. This is where the 56 ring gauge really shines. Because there’s so much tobacco in that barrel, the smoke stays cool, allowing all those subtle nuances to dance around without being scorched. I wasn’t even thinking about the poker game anymore. I was just sitting there, watching the ash—which was a solid, salt-and-pepper grey—hold on for nearly two inches. Solid construction, for sure.

The Final Third: The Grand Finale

By the time I hit the final third, the strength ramped up to a full-bodied experience. This is where the dark chocolate and roasted coffee notes came out to play. It got darker, richer, and more intense. There was a leatheriness that reminded me of a new car interior, coupled with a spicy kick that warmed the back of my throat. But even at the very end, it never got bitter. I smoked it down until my fingers were screaming from the heat, and it stayed smooth the whole way. It took me a good 110 minutes to finish, and I enjoyed every single second of it. The “Tribal Chief” nickname? I get it now. It rules the room.

Pairing: What to Drink

Now, I was at a poker night, so the options were limited, but I had a glass of aged rum—specifically a Havana Club 7 Year—and I think it was the right call. You need something with a bit of sweetness and weight to stand up to a cigar this big. A peaty scotch might overpower the creamy notes of the first half, but a sweet bourbon or a dark rum fits like a glove. If you’re a coffee drinker, a double espresso would be a knockout pairing for that final third when the chocolate and roasted notes really take over. Just don’t drink anything too cheap; this cigar will make a bad drink taste even worse by comparison.

The Verdict

So, was it worth breaking a five-year streak? In a heartbeat. The Cohiba Behike 56 Ceramic Jar is a singular experience. It’s not just the tobacco—though that’s clearly the best of the best from the Vuelta Abajo—it’s the whole ritual. The weight of the 56 ring gauge, the history of the El Laguito factory, and the sheer luxury of pulling a stick out of that ceramic jar makes you feel like you’ve actually achieved something in life, even if you’re losing your shirt at the poker table.

It’s creamy, it’s complex, and it’s surprisingly balanced for such a massive smoke. Is it expensive? Yeah, it’ll make your wallet weep. Is it hard to find? Absolutely. But if you ever find yourself in a basement with a guy like Sal who’s willing to crack open a jar, don’t be a hero. Forget your “quitting” streak. Sit down, light up, and let the Behike tell you its story. You won’t regret it.

Final Thought: If you want a smoke that feels like a warm hug from a very wealthy Cuban uncle, this is the one. It’s sophisticated, heavy, and better than any hand of cards I played that night.