Cohiba Talisman

Description

Product Specifications

We’d signed the last of the digital documents 10 minutes earlier, the satellite link-up barely lasting for the “Success” notice to pop onto my screen. It gave me a sudden, weird sense of nostalgia. It wasn’t only about the deal. It was the teak deck smell, that same odor that would cling to my father’s clothes after he’d spent his weekends messing with his old Boston Whaler.

I studied my hands — callused by a lifetime of toiling, finally steady in the absence of pressure. I pulled out my travel humidor: The leather was long since softened, its surface now feeling like a well-used ball glove. I didn’t want something quick. I didn’t want something routine.

I wanted a smoke that was as solid as the win I had just won.” Fingers brushed against a dark, oily wrapper, and I immediately knew which it was without even withdrawing the stick. That smoke? The

Cohiba Talismán Edición Limitada 2. It’s been languishing in my stash for the last couple of years, waiting patiently for an occasion that had enough gravitas to do justice to its swagger.

I snipped the pigtail cap, felt a breeze and knew that some moments are not merely lived — they are celebrated. The Specs
Product Name
Cohiba Talismán (Edición Limitada 2017)
Vitola de Galera
Cañonazo Doble (Sublime No. 1)
Body
Medium-to-Full
Construction: A Heavy Weight in the Hand

You ever hold a cigar and it just feels… expensive?

Not that they look fancy, but in the sense of “it’s a lot of work to do this.” That’s the Talismán. This thing is a beast. The 54 ring gauge — what the factory calls a Cañonazo Doble — is beefy. It’s thick, hefty and fills the hand without feeling unwieldy.

In these days of everyone chasing those gargantuan 60-ring logs, the 54 feels like the sweet spot for a big, celebratory smoke. It’s a classic Cohiba pigtail cap, a little shout out to the Behike line that I’ve always thought was pretty classy. Like the cigar is dressed in a tiny tuxedo. It’s the wrapper that really hooks you, though.

It’s a dark, mottled maduro from the Vuelta Abajo region. It’s not a jet black like some of those non-Cuban Broadleaf wrappers you see; it’s more of a deep, rich chocolate bean color with a little bit of an oily shimmer. I ran my thumb along it, and it was completely smooth — buttery, even. No huge veins, no soft spots.

It smoked dense, as if precious resources were used to pack every last bit of tobacco into that 1 mm frame. Before I even fired it up, I took a long pull. The pre-light was a trip. I smelled some cinnamon, what I could swear was a little sweet chocolate, but there was this bass note of funk — that classic, head-turning Cuban barnyard or manure quality that’s probably disgusting to outsiders and still makes a connoisseur’s mouth water.

I got also some tea and a little almond. The draw was spot on. Not sloppy, and not like you’re trying to slurp up a milkshake with it. Just a firm, promising resistance.

The Flavor Profile: A Three Act Play
The First Third: The Awakening

I lit it with a soft flame to start, because if you can spare this leaf getting torched by a triple-jet lighter, you may as well do so.

The first couple of puffs were so surprisingly bright. I was braced for a gut-punch of strength, but instead I got a complex wash of salted nuts and cedar. It was like sitting in a wood-paneled library with a bowl of roasted cashews.” Then, about half an inch in, the drizzle of bitter espresso took over and infused a background layer of leather, bringing me back down to earth. I got to say, the exhale through the nose is where it’s at with this one.

I exhaled a small bit through my nose and made out a clear blast of citrus and white pepper. It wasn’t harsh, though. You can taste this is old tobacco. Habanos claims it ages these leaves at least two years, and Cohiba does that extra third fermentation in cedar barrels for the seco and ligero leaves.

You can taste that process. It blunts the sharpness of the edges. The strength began at a robust medium, but I could sense it gaining speed like buildup on a slow roller coaster. The Sweet Spot: The Second Third

In the second third I had a trusted, heavy ash—a lovely layered light grey.

The cedar and nutty base remained, but the profile began to add a lot of creaminess. Here’s where the cocoa nibs came in. And this wasn’t a sweet chocolate, it was more like a high-percentage dark cocoa. The leather note went deeper, more old armchair, and the hay notes that are characteristic of Cuban tobacco began to harmonize with a growing sweetness.

The texture of the smoke was fat and chewy. I tasted it and caught myself just keeping it in my mouth for a few seconds before exhaling. That white pepper in the retrohale stayed steady, adding a nice little snap that kept all of the creaminess from getting dull. It’s a complicated beast, and every time I thought I had it pegged, another wash of roast coffee surfaced.

It felt balanced. Nothing was hollering; you couldn’t even call it a well-drilled choir. The Final Third: The Crescendo

By the final third, the body was now playing in the medium to full range.

The leather and hay jumped out first, dirtiness accelerated. I began getting hits of anise and some flouriness, which sounds weird but lent the smoke a certain bready weight. The sweetness transitioned from the cocoa sort to something more in the realm of marzipan — nutty and dense. There’s a little bit of bitterness right toward the end but not “this cigar is young” kind.

It was closer to the charred crust of a roasted marshmallow, or a very dark roast coffee. I smoked it down until my fingers were feeling the heat, and that’s really indicative of how much I did not want to put this cigar out. Not even at the nub did it soften or heat up. It remained dignified till the bitter end.

Pairing: Finding the Right Partner

I was standing on the boat drinking a glass of 12-year-old Flor de Caña rum.

The caramel and vanilla tones from the rum were beautiful dancing partners with the cedar and cocoa of the Talismán. Had I been in the comfort of my lounge at home, I may have even opted for a big bodied Tawny Port or perhaps peaty Scotch—something with enough backbone to support the cigar’s changing strength. You do not want some light lager coming up in here. You want something with a little soul.

It’s even a thick, black Cuban coffee (a

cafecito) which would be a smart accompaniment if you’re smoking this in the morning — though I’ll admit, this feels like more of an “ evening ” cigar to me. The Verdict

And sure, the Cohiba Talismán is not an everyday cigar.

It’s a 2 Edición Limitada, and while Habanos has returned to it few more times now that sales have been strong, it remains a special-occasion stick. it symbolizes that modern Habanos trend toward bigger—huge ring gauges and lush, maduro­-style wrappers. It breaks a bit from the traditional Línea Clásica profile, falling more in line with what’s still left of the richness Behike or Maduro 5 lines, but it stays grounded firmly on its feet in the El Laguito tradition. Is it worth the hunt? If you have an occasion to mark — a deal closed, a boat launched or just a quiet moment lost in nostalgia that needs its own soundtrack — then yes.

It’s a decent, in-your-face smoke that pays dividends if smoked slowly. It’s complicated, it’s masterfully composed, and it tastes of the best parts of Havana. With the sun beginning to sink below the horizon, and the sky turning a mottled purple, I flicked away the last of the ash into the sea. The deal was done, the cigar was smoked and for a few hours everything seemed even better than it already had.

Solid.