Cohiba Siglo III

Description

markdown

I was leaning back in a leather chair that had seen better decades, tucked away in the corner of a small, unassuming lounge in Miami. Outside, the humidity was thick enough to chew on, and the neon lights of Calle Ocho were just starting to flicker to life. I’d spent the afternoon dodging tourists and hunting for something specific—not just any smoke, but something that felt right for the mood I was in. I felt grateful, honestly. Grateful to be out of the sun, grateful for the hum of the AC, and grateful for the old guy behind the counter who looked at me, nodded, and pulled a cedar cabinet from a shelf that wasn’t even on display.

He didn’t say much. He just tapped the lid. Inside was a handful of Cohiba Siglo IIIs. Now, if you know anything about the current state of the market, you know finding a genuine Siglo III—with a bit of age on it, no less—is like finding a parking spot right in front of your house on a Friday night. It just doesn’t happen. I bought two. One for the walk, and one to sit with right there. I clipped the cap, felt the weight of it in my hand, and realized that sometimes the universe just lines things up for you. You ever have one of those moments where the world slows down just because you found the right stick? That was me in Miami.

That smoke? The Cohiba Siglo III. It’s a vitola that often gets overshadowed by its flashier brothers, the IV and the VI, but for my money, this is where the real soul of the Linea 1492 lives. It’s got that specific length that feels substantial without being a commitment you have to clear your entire afternoon for. It’s refined, it’s a bit picky about how you smoke it, and it’s exactly what I needed in that moment.

The Specs

Construction: The El Laguito Touch

I gotta say, there’s something about the way they roll at El Laguito that you just can’t replicate. The Siglo III is a Corona Grande, which is basically a long corona. It’s 155mm of pure Cuban craftsmanship. Holding it, the wrapper felt like fine silk—not oily in a greasy way, but smooth, like a well-worn leather jacket. The color was a solid Colorado Claro, a golden-brown that looked healthy under the lounge’s dim lights. I didn’t see any aggressive veins or soft spots. It felt firm, but it had that slight “give” that tells you the leaves are packed with a bit of respect for the airflow.

The pre-light draw was a trip. I got a lot of hay and a very distinct honey sweetness. It didn’t taste like chemicals or artificial flavoring; it tasted like a farm in the Pinar del Río region after a light rain. There was a bit of that “barnyard” funk that I personally love—it’s a sign that the tobacco has been fermented properly. Remember, Cohiba does that extra barrel fermentation for their filler leaves (the seco, ligero, and the rare medio tiempo). You can smell that effort before you even strike a match. It’s a deeper, more rounded scent than your average Havana export. I spent a good five minutes just smelling the foot of the cigar before I even reached for my lighter. If you’re rushing a Cohiba, you’re doing it wrong.

The First Third: Grass, Honey, and New Beginnings

Lighting this thing up, the first few puffs were surprisingly delicate. I’ve had some Cubans that kick you in the teeth right out of the gate, but the Siglo III is more of a “slow hello.” The initial notes were heavy on the sweet cedar and a bit of fresh grass. It’s a very “green” flavor profile at the start, which is a hallmark of the Siglo line. I also picked up a faint hint of citrus—think lemon zest rather than the juice—which kept the palate feeling clean.

About ten minutes in, that honey I smelled on the cold draw started to manifest in the smoke. It’s a creamy, buttery mouthfeel. I’m sitting there in Miami, watching the smoke curl toward the ceiling, and I’m thinking about how well-balanced this thing is. It’s not a powerhouse. It’s medium-bodied at best here, but the complexity is what keeps you interested. There’s a touch of fresh fruit in there too—maybe a bit of green apple? It sounds weird for a cigar, but it works. It’s bright. It’s a “daytime” profile that feels sophisticated. The ash was a light grey, holding on for a good inch before I decided to tap it off. Solid construction, no doubt about it.

The Second Third: The Transition into the Kitchen

As I moved into the second third, the Siglo III decided to get a bit more serious. The grassy notes started to fade, replaced by what I call the “kitchen” flavors. I’m talking about toasted almonds, coffee beans, and a very specific creamy grilled nut flavor. If you’ve ever had roasted chestnuts from a street vendor, it’s got that same warm, savory-sweet vibe. This is where the extra fermentation really shows its face. There’s zero harshness. It’s smooth, like a well-rehearsed jazz solo.

I also started to notice a bit of black pepper on the retrohale. It wasn’t overwhelming—just enough to let you know you’re smoking a premium product. Then came the liquorice. It’s a fleeting note, but it’s there, adding a dark, herbal sweetness that grounds the lighter cedar notes from the beginning. My palate was busy. Every puff seemed to offer a slightly different nuance. One minute it’s coffee-heavy, the next it’s more about that new leather smell. It’s a conversation, not a monologue. I found myself slowing down even more, taking long pauses between draws to let the flavors settle. In a world that’s always in a hurry, this cigar demands you take a seat and stay a while.

The Final Third: Depth and Earth

By the time I got to the final third, the strength had ticked up a notch. We were firmly in the medium-full territory now. The cedar turned into a deeper, toasted wood flavor. The sweetness was still there, but it had evolved from honey into more of a mocha or vanilla bean profile. There was an earthy depth that started to anchor the experience—rich soil, damp wood, and a bit more of that leather.

What impressed me most was how cool the smoke stayed. Often, with a 42 ring gauge, things can get hot and bitter toward the end. Not here. I smoked this thing down until my fingers were feeling the heat, and it never turned sour. The spice stayed consistent, and that almond nuttiness lingered on the finish for minutes. It’s a long-lasting aftertaste that makes you want to reach for another one immediately, even though you know you should probably let your palate rest. It’s a testament to the Vuelta Abajo tobacco. They call it the “selection of the selection” for a reason. You’re smoking the best leaves from the best districts, and in the final inches of a Siglo III, you really feel that pedigree.

Pairing: Keeping it Classic

In that Miami lounge, I went with a simple espresso. The bitterness of the coffee cut through the honey sweetness of the cigar perfectly. If I were at home, I’d probably reach for a bottle of Havana Club 7 Year Old. You want something with a bit of age and some caramel notes to match the tobacco, but nothing so peaty or smokey that it drowns out the delicate nuances of the Siglo III. A light Highland scotch could work, but honestly, a rum or a coffee is the way to go. You want to complement the cigar, not compete with it. This isn’t a stick you smoke while drinking a heavy, hop-forward IPA. Respect the leaves.

The Verdict

So, is the Cohiba Siglo III worth the hunt? Look, I’m not going to tell you it’s the only cigar you’ll ever need, but it’s a damn fine example of what a Cuban Corona Grande should be. It’s elegant. It’s not trying to blow your head off with nicotine; it’s trying to impress you with its range. It’s a 45-to-60-minute journey that feels like it was designed for people who actually enjoy the act of tasting tobacco rather than just blowing clouds.

If you find a box that’s been sitting for 3 to 5 years, buy it. Don’t think about it, just do it. The aging process rounds off those grassy edges and turns the honey notes into something much more complex. It’s a refined, high-end experience that reminds me why I got into cigars in the first place. Sitting in that lounge in Miami, feeling grateful for the find, I realized that the Siglo III isn’t just a cigar—it’s a reminder to slow down. Solid. Truly solid.

Final Thoughts: A sophisticated, medium-bodied masterpiece that rewards the patient smoker. If you like cedar, cream, and a bit of spice, this is your lane.