Cohiba Siglo IV

Description

The Cohiba Siglo IV: A Rain-Lashed Masterclass
I never forget the afternoon I spent here, on a nameless little spit of sand in the center of the Caribbean. This wasn’t one of those tourist-trap beaches with the neon umbrellas and the overpriced mojitos. No, this is the sort of place you only stumble upon if your boat captain’s been hitting on alcohol or if you’ve a really good map and care nothing for your own life. I sat there, with toes buried in the cooling sand, gazing as the horizon darkened into a bruised mystic violet.

Product Specifications

It was thick, the air so dense you can nearly chew it. Then, the sky just gave up. The clouds parted and a tropical downpour began pelting the sea like a thousand drums. I crawled under a makeshift lean-to that I’d pieced together out of sun-bleached driftwood and several huge, waxy palm fronds I had previously dragged into place.

It wasn’t the Four Seasons, but it was dry. The sound of the rain against those leaves was rhythmic, almost hypnotic. I was stuck there. I couldn’t leave the boat, and I couldn’t go for a swim.

There was nothing to do but wait and sniff the salt spray. I rummaged through my travel h’odor and fingers found the smaller sticks until they landed upon something meaty. I wanted something that would make a “stuck in the rain” situation feel like a “front-row seat to the show” experience. That smoke?

The
Cohiba Siglo IV
. I’d been waiting for a moment that felt right, and the act of sitting beneath this makeshift roof while the world turned into water sure seemed like the definition of right. The First Third: The Awakening
The first few tokes are the most telling.

The Siglo IV is not a slap across the face with it. It’s more of a courteous “hello.” I mean, I gotta say, the amount of smoke you get straight away is pretty high. The big, white, pillowy clouds that hung in the humid air. The early flavors were very much classic Cohiba in nature: shining cedar, a touch of grassy hay and an extremely obvious honey sweetness on the finish.

Cuban tobacco always carries a certain “twang”—a mineral-rich, slightly salty acidity—and that’s what you tasted here. But it was balanced. About 10 minutes in, a hint of vanilla began to worm its way through, mingling with an autumnal baking spice that brought to mind my grandmother’s kitchen (in such happy/sad ways), but like, more grown-up. It was easygoing and medium-bodied, perfect for watching the rain turn the beach into a misty dreamscape.

The burn was textbook straight and the ash needed to be cajoled for release, it was so solid as a light gray. The Second Third: The Sweet Spot
As I got into the middle of the stick, flavors again began to take on a slightly more “serious” demeanor.

The hay and grass notes went to the back seat, and this wonderful roasted nut flavor just started to really take over. I’m saying toasted almonds, and possibly some cashew. There was also a chocolatey undertone, but not like that of a candy bar — more like that of some high-end cocoa powder swept over something creamy. This is where all three of those fermentations come shining through.

You see, Cohiba takes their seco and ligero leaves and hits them with an additional fermentation in barrels. To me, that speaks to a “roundness” in the smoke. Nothing abrasive, no rough edges. When I puffed too fast because I got excited, it stayed cool.

The spice transitioned from baking spices to white pepper on the retrohale, but only slightly so. If you’re not retrohaling this, half the narrative’s passing right on through. It releases an entire universe of grown-up dirt and old wood that you simply don’t get on the tongue. The Final Third: The Crescendo
By the time I’d made it through the last couple of inches, a heavy rain had eased off, leaving everything smelling fresh and ozeony

.

The Siglo IV chose to come up big. The creaminess persisted, but the flavors turned a great deal darker. I began to taste heavy hits of roasted coffee beans — kind of like a dark Italian roast — and a deep, damp earthiness. This is typically where a lot of cigars will begin to turn hot or bitter.

Not this one. It stayed silky. The hint of honey sweet from the start comes on back for a second round, in contrast so wonderful with those dark coffees. I smoked it all the way down until my fingers were getting warm.

I didn’t want to put it down. It was as if the cigar itself was changing with the weather — from the fast, bright beginning to the slow, deep and slightly melancholy end of things. It was an hour and change of pure distraction that I was soaking wet and miles away from a real bed. Pairing Recommendations
But here, because I was on a beach, it was some local rum that probably never saw a tax stamp.

The idea worked, but if I were sitting in my library at home, I’d do something else. The Spirit:
Obviously you would use an aged Cuban rum (like Havana Club 7), but a highland Scottish malt with some heather and honey could also be pretty incredible here. You want something that will cut the sweet, but not bury the subtle cedar. The Non-Alcoholic:
A double espresso.

But the bitterness of coffee is just twisty enough to be perfectly opposed by the creaminess of your Siglo IV. It’s a classic for a reason. The Vibe:
Honestly? This is a “me time” cigar.

Don’t smoke this at a loud party with your mind all over the place. Whether it’s on a damp beach or a deserted porch at 2:00AM, smoke it when the world quiets down. The Verdict
I have smoked a lot of cigars in a lot of weird places, and I will tell you this much: Price and prestige do not always add up to a good time.

But the Cohiba Siglo IV? It earns its keep. It’s not the biggest or loudest; it’s just that particular, delicate balance available only through that additional barrel aging and installation in the Coronas Gordas format. Is it a daily smoke?

Not likely, unless you have a whole lot more in your bank account than I do. But for those times when you need to transform a minor disaster — say, getting rained out on a desolate beach — into a memory that you might actually want to keep? It’s perfect. It’s smooth, it’s complex and it has enough transitions to keep you engaged from the light-in-the-morning draw to the ear-burning last puff at night.

If you have one in your humidor, let it rest for a couple of years. Mine was about four years old and seemed to me in its prime. It is a sophisticated, creamy, deeply satisfying experience. Solid.

Just plain solid.