Cohiba Sublimes “Limited Edition 2004” VINTAGE

Description

I was standing in a narrow alleyway just off 5th Avenue in Midtown Manhattan, the kind of place that smells like damp concrete and expensive exhaust fumes. The city was screaming—yellow cabs honking, sirens wailing three blocks over, and thousands of suits rushing to meetings they probably hated. I felt like a ghost. Or maybe a criminal. See, I’d told everyone I was done. My wife, my doctor, even the guys at my local lounge back home—I’d told them all that my humidors were empty and my torch was retired. Five years. That’s how long I’d stayed “clean.”

But tucked inside my coat pocket was a small leather case I’d kept hidden behind a row of first-edition Hemingway novels in my study. Inside that case was a single, aging stick that had been waiting for the right moment of weakness. I wasn’t there for a meeting. I was there to disappear for two hours in the middle of the most crowded place on earth. I pulled it out, feeling the weight of it in my hand, and I realized I didn’t care about the “quitting” anymore. I just wanted that specific, pungent aroma of old Cuban leaf to drown out the smell of the city. I clipped the cap with a cheap plastic cutter I’d bought at a newsstand ten minutes earlier, and as the first match flared, the world around me just… faded.

That smoke? The Cohiba Sublimes Edición Limitada 2004. It wasn’t just a cigar; it was my ticket back into a world I’d tried to leave behind.

The Specs

Construction: A Gamble in the Hand

I gotta tell you, holding a 54-ring gauge Cuban from the mid-2000s is always a bit of a gamble. This was a time when the factories in Cuba were expanding like crazy, trying to keep up with a world that couldn’t get enough of the “forbidden fruit.” They were training new rollers by the busload, and sometimes, the quality control took a back seat to the quotas. When I rolled this Sublimes between my fingers in that New York alley, I felt a couple of firm spots. My heart sank a little. You ever get that feeling? Like you’ve waited years for a moment only to realize the draw might be tighter than a bank vault?

The wrapper was a deep, dark chestnut brown—what you’d expect from an Edición Limitada. It wasn’t silky or smooth like the stuff you see on modern high-end sticks today. It was a bit toothy, a bit rugged, with some visible veins that gave it a rustic, “old world” character. It felt heavy, though. Solid. The pre-light draw was a struggle, I won’t lie. It tasted like cold cocoa and dried hay, but I had to pull hard to get anything. I spent a good three minutes just massaging the neck of the cigar, praying I wouldn’t crack that aged wrapper. It’s a delicate dance, trying to fix a Cuban plug without ruining a piece of history.

The First Third: The Awakening

Once I got the foot glowing, the first few puffs were… stubborn. But then, it opened up. That classic Cohiba “grassy” note hit me first, but it wasn’t fresh-cut grass; it was more like sun-baked hay in a barn. It was followed immediately by a punch of espresso and a very distinct, dusty cocoa. I remember leaning my back against the brick wall, watching the smoke curl up toward the tiny sliver of blue sky between the skyscrapers, and thinking, “Yeah, this is why I couldn’t stay away.”

The retrohale was surprisingly muted at the start. I expected a spice kick, but instead, I got more of that cocoa and a bit of earthiness. It’s a medium-to-full body experience right out of the gate, but it doesn’t try to knock your teeth in. It’s more of a slow burn, a gradual introduction to the power it’s holding back. The smoke output was a bit thin because of that tight draw, but the flavors were concentrated, almost like a reduction sauce.

The Second Third: The Heart of the Matter

As I moved into the second third, the cigar started to find its rhythm. The draw loosened up just enough to let the flavors expand. The grassiness stayed there—it’s the backbone of any Cohiba, really—but the espresso notes started to get darker, turning into something more like charred wood or heavy earth. There was a fleeting moment of spice, maybe a bit of white pepper, but it didn’t linger. It was like the cigar was teasing me, showing me glimpses of what it could do before pulling back.

I noticed a bit of a sourdough tang starting to creep in around the edges. It’s a weird note if you aren’t used to it, but in an aged Cuban, it’s a sign of maturity. It balances out the sweetness of the cocoa. I’m standing there, dodging the occasional delivery guy who looked at me like I was a lunatic for smoking a $200 cigar next to a dumpster, but I didn’t care. The complexity was starting to build. It felt rich, almost oily on the palate. If you’ve ever had a really good piece of dark chocolate that’s just a little too bitter, you know the sensation I’m talking about. It’s demanding, but in a way that makes you want more.

The Final Third: The Grand Finale

This is where the 2004 Sublimes really showed its age. The last couple of inches were, frankly, the best part of the entire two-hour ordeal. The espresso and cocoa notes fused into this thick, creamy profile that reminded me of a heavy stout beer. And then, out of nowhere, I got this hit of eucalyptus. It sounds crazy, I know. But it was there—a cool, herbal lift that cut right through the heavy tobacco. It was followed by that sourdough bread note again, but stronger this time, giving the finish a cloying, savory quality that stayed on my tongue long after I blew out the smoke.

The strength definitely ramped up toward the end. My head was spinning just a little—partly from the nicotine, partly from the sheer adrenaline of breaking my five-year streak. The cigar got hot, as they all do when you get down to the nub, but the flavors didn’t turn bitter. They just got… louder. It was a smooth, refined ending to a smoke that had started out as a bit of a fight. By the time I had to drop the nub into the gutter, I felt completely satisfied. I didn’t need another one. I just needed to sit with that feeling for a while.

Pairing: What to Drink?

If I hadn’t been standing in a literal alleyway, I would have reached for something with some serious weight. You need a drink that can stand up to that espresso and earth profile without getting lost.

• The Heavy Hitter: A dark, aged Zacapa rum. The brown sugar sweetness of the rum would play perfectly against the sourdough and cocoa notes of the Sublimes.
• The Purist’s Choice: A double espresso, black. No sugar. You want to lean into those coffee notes, not mask them. The bitterness of the coffee brings out the subtle creaminess in the final third of the cigar.
• The Nightcap: A peated Scotch, but nothing too medicinal. Something like a Highland Park 18. The light smoke and honey sweetness would complement the “grassy” Cohiba DNA without overwhelming it.

The Verdict: Is It Worth the Hunt?

Look, I’m gonna be real with you. The Cohiba Sublimes 2004 is a piece of history, and like most history, it’s got its flaws. You’re dealing with a cigar from an era where construction was hit-or-miss. You might find one that’s plugged solid, and at the prices these go for on the secondary market, that’s a heartbreak I wouldn’t wish on anyone. It’s a gamble.

But if you find one that draws? Man. It’s a journey. It’s not the “best” cigar ever made—I don’t believe in those kinds of superlatives—but it is a solid, complex, and incredibly rich experience. It’s got that specific Vuelta Abajo soul that you just can’t find anywhere else. It’s for the guy who wants to sit down and actually think about what he’s smoking. It’s not a “golf course” cigar. It’s a “hide in an alleyway and ignore the world” cigar.

For me, it was the perfect way to break my fast. It reminded me that some things are worth the trouble, worth the secret, and definitely worth the occasional relapse. If you can find one, and you’ve got the patience to work through a potentially tight draw, buy it. Just don’t tell my wife I said so.

Final Thoughts: A heavy, rich, and temperamental classic that rewards the patient smoker with deep notes of coffee, cocoa, and a strange, beautiful herbal finish. Just keep a draw tool handy, just in case.

Rating: Solid. Very solid.

— The Connoisseur