Fonseca Cosaco

Description

I close my eyes and I can still smell diesel and salt spray. It’s kind of amusing how a certain smell can just hijack your brain and yank you back 20 years. I was out on the deck of my old man’s beat-up fishing boat — the Sea Sprite — somewhere in the waters off Montauk. It was 4:30 in the morning, that extreme early when the sun hasn’t even considered beginning to rise, and the water is a sheet of hammered lead. I was carrying a thermos of coffee that was basically chicory and bile, and the air was so cold it seemed like it might start slicing skin off my cheeks.

My father has never been a talkative man, not even waiting for the first catch. He’d sit hand on the tiller just staring at his horizon. But he had one ritual that never changed. He’d draw a cigar out of his jacket pocket, wrapped in white tissue paper, and meticulously undo the package as if unwrapping a present from a mistress. “Some sticks are to brag and some are to think.” When you’re on the water, you just want one that doesn’t try to out-talk the ocean.”

I didn’t get it then. I was young and after the biggest, loudest flavors I could find. But I’ve been searching for that same quiet lately. I’ve been searching for a smoke that won’t make me feel like I need to sit at a mahogany table in a three-piece suit. I wanted something that had the feel of being on a boat that morning: honest, a bit nostalgic and steady. That smoke? The Fonseca Cosacos. It’s a Cuban classic that doesn’t quite get the press the way something like a Montecristo or Cohiba would, but I’m telling you, it stands on its own with soul to spare.

The Specs

Construction: The Tissue Paper Ritual

I’ve always adored the look of a Fonseca. There’s a certain elegant quality to that white tissue paper. I’m sure it’s for preserving the thin wrapper, but for me, it’s about anticipation. You peel that paper away, and you’re confronted with a silky Colorado-colored leaf. The particular stick I was holding was a lovely, ever-so-slightly reddish brown — not too dark, just nice and tanned looking. It was firm to the touch without any soft spots, though a 42 ring gauge is always going to feel a little thin if you typically smoke those 54+ jawbreakers everyone loves these days. Personally? I believe the 42 is the sweet spot. It fits the mouth better.

The pre-light draw was clean. I also picked up a bunch of sweet hay and what I can only call “old library” wood. It had a very subtle undercurrent of chocolate, but not candy bar-like — more like the smell of a cocoa tin you haven’t opened in a year before opening it. It’s a mild opening, nothing that’s going to blow your socks off but it’s welcoming. It’s like a boat sip of coffee, that first one; it wakes you up without jarring you.

The First Third: A Mild Welcome

When I set foot to flame, the first thing that hit me was the spice. It’s not a black pepper burn; it’s more of a piquant, lively zing on the tip of your tongue. It calms down very quickly to become an interesting blend of light cedar and tea. I absolutely love tea notes in a cigar, and the Cosacos is packing them by the truckload. It is airy, floral and unexpectedly light.

I was out on my back porch when I lit it, watching the birds bicker at the feeder, and I noticed that I wasn’t dissecting the smoke. I was just enjoying it. The strength is for sure in the lower half of medium here. It’s leather and maybe a hint of toasted nuts, but it’s all “civilized” about it. The ash was a pale grey, clinging for an inch before I got nervous and tapped it off. Solid construction, for sure.

The Second Third: Feeling the Groove

Things got a little more interesting as I entered into the middle of the stick. The acidity happened — not in a negative sense, but like crisp green apple or some citrus peel. That ‘Cuban twang,’ people say? It’s right here. It’s that metallic, earthy, salty combo you can only get from Vuelta Abajo tobacco.

Your profile even tasted more like coffee and vanilla. It is creamy, but there’s enough of a tannic bite to keep you paying attention. I thought of those mid-morning breaks on the boat when the sun finally landed on the deck and everything felt warm and right. The Cosacos one can’t help but think of as very traditional. It doesn’t taste like a modern “flavor bomb” engineered in a lab; it tastes like the farm. It tastes of dirt, sun and time. The strength was a tick higher and It never came across as aggressive however. It’s a very polite cigar.

The Roasted In The Final Third

Now, I’ve heard some dudes, complaining those get bitter at the end. I believe that’s what happens if you don’t puff it slowly enough. Treat a 42 ring gauge like a chimney and it’s going to overheat and bite you back. I took my time. In the last few inches, the floral notes had gone away to be replaced by a very dark roasted coffee and heavy on earth.

I received quite a bit of toasted bread and some black pepper on the retrohale. It finished rich and harmonious. I didn’t receive that “chemical” taste you sometimes get in young Cubans. A bit old even if I didn’t learn the box date. I smoked it down until my fingers were feeling the warmth, and even then I had no real desire let it go. It is a 60 to 70-minute experience if you take the time to treat it with some respect.

The Pairing: Keep It Simple

First off I am a strong believer that you do not pair a light-to-medium cigar with a heavy peated Scotch. You’ll drown out the nuances. For the Fonseca Cosacos, I returned to my origins. I served it with a big mug of black coffee, no sugar, no cream. The bitter bite of the coffee contrasted nicely with the creamy vanilla and wood notes in the cigar.

If you’re smoking this at night, reach for a light rum or perhaps a crisp pilsner. You need something that clears the palate without clogging it. Imagine a glass of sparkling water with a lime wedge, but somehow better, and you have an idea of the ideal pairing here. You hope to stay hydrated enough to detect the nuanced floral flavors in that first third.

The Verdict

Listen, if you’re a smoker who needs to feel like he or she has just taken a leather boot to the chest region, then the Fonseca Cosacos is not for you. It’s not a powerhouse. It’s not meant to be. This is a cigar for thoughtful smokers. It’s for those quiet mornings, or afternoons when you want to plop yourself down and give serious thought to where you’ve been and where you’re headed.

It’s an affordable Cuban, a rare bird these days. It’s reliable, it’s delightful to look at, and it gives you a flavor profile that is getting rarer in this age of “bold” and “extra-aged” branding. It’s nostalgia for a more innocent era. It took me back to the Sea Sprite, the smell of the Atlantic and the quiet wisdom of a man who knew that if something is really good in life, it doesn’t have to make noise for you to hear it.

Worth a smoke? Yes Wert!sPid=\”1152\”> At first I didn’t think so, but as it turns out this cigar is kind of like cotton candy: It disappears more quickly than you’d expect (not just because there are only 1,000; the wrapper leaf burns fast), and I would be unsurprised to see Billie Eilish sporting some sort of tattoo commemorating the clothespin moment, which is really what tattoos are for. Absolutely. I’d stash a few of these away for those moments when you want an honest, flavorful and unpretentious friend. It’s a solid, honest smoke. And honestly? I have more than enough with that.