H Upmann Magnum 46

Description

markdown

Product Specifications

Last Tuesday evening I was sitting in my garage, one of those suffocating kind of nights when the air is thick and the only sound is an occasional tick from a cooling engine. I’d just closed on a deal that lingered about six months — nothing glamorous, just an ordinary contract that finally created some breathing space in my deepest collaborations. I didn’t want to go to a bar or cause a scene. I just wanted to sit on my old workbench and look at my tools and let the adrenaline drain out of me. My hands were still tingly from the last handshake and I wanted a little something to calm me down.

I delved into the depths of my travel humidor, past the stylish labels and big cigars that try too hard, to find something familiar in texture. It was a Corona Gorda that I’d been sitting on for quite some time. There’s something about a garage-the smell of oil, sawdust and old metal-that demands a smoke with some actual backbone; something that doesn’t need a fancy lounge in order to feel important. I trimmed the cap, struck a long match, and let the cedar spill smoke into the rafters.

That smoke? The H. Upmann Magnum 46. It’s a cigar that isn’t one to demand attention, but once you start paying attention, it’s got a hell of lot to say.

The Specs

Construction: A Banker’s Precision

You gotta remember, H. Upmann was founded by a German banker named Hermann Dietrich Upmann in the 1840s. That DNA of banking is still there. When I examined this Magnum 46 in my garage’s insubstantial lighting, it had quality. It’s not “perfect” in a machine-made way; it has that quaint, rustic, handmade Cuban charm. The wrapper was a lovely Colorado hue, kind of reddish-brown that reminded me of an old leather armchair. It seemed solid, no soft spots, and that’s always a comforting thing to find when you’re about to spend the next 2-77 years parked in one place.

The pre-light draw was everything I’d expect from a nicely aged Upmann: some grassy hay, a little light sweetness and that unmistakable tobacco aroma that you only get out of the Vuelta Abajo.

I’ve smoked a lot of cigars that felt like they were rolled by someone in a rush, but this one seemed deliberate. It is a 46 ring gauge, which I have felt is the sweet spot. That’s just thick enough to cool the smoke, but thin enough that you’re mostly tasting the wrapper and its blend — not inhaling a mouthful of air.

In the years of yore, these things came “naked” in cabinets — no bands, just plain ol’ raw tobacco.

They only began banding them regularly around 2005. I sort of miss that low-key mystique, but the red and gold band does pop nicely against that brown leaf. It’s a classic style to go with a classic cigar.

The Opening Third: The Silent Handshake

It’s the first few puffs where the Magnum 46 introduces itself. It’s not a punch in the face. Instead, it begins with this smooth, nearly sweet taste that caught me off guard. There’s a floral note in there too, something light and almost of a garden after the rain. It’s a delicate start, very “Old World.”

While I sat on my stool and watched the smoke curl up toward garage door tracks, the flavors began to mingle. I received hits of toasted nuts — almonds, perhaps closer to walnuts at times — and a richness that seemed all heavy cream. The smoke it produced was pretty good, not a chimney like some smokers, but enough to fill the area with a nice woody smell. It’s a mild-to-medium start, very accessible. If you’re in the market for a pepper bomb, this isn’t it. This is about balance.

The Second Third: The Deal Is Getting Interesting

At about the twenty minute mark, it started to come alive a bit. And this is where the Magnum 46 proves to be a “sleeper.” The intensity ticked up a level, now well within the medium range. The sweetness that was there from the start started to change — we’re talking cloying rich with coffee beans and burnt chestnuts rather than dairy milk. I began to get some baking spices, maybe a bit of cinnamon, and faint notes of orange peel that contributed a pleasant acidity.

This middle section is what I love about — the complexity. It’s more like an orchestra, in which no individual instrument is out to cry over its other chorus members. One puff I would catch a bit of cedar, next a little peppercorn. It engaged me while I was reflecting on the day’s work. It’s quite “decadent,” a word I use advisedly. It tastes expensive in your mouth, even though these are some of the more affordable Havanas if you know where to find them. The ash was tight but hanging on, kind of a light gray with those fine “teeth” you find in good Cuban leaf.

The Final Third: The Last Word

By the time I approached those last couple of inches, the cigar had moved yet again. On the body we were medium-full at this point. The creaminess was there, but it was getting jostled by something darker and more rugged. And I mean deep leather, toasted oak and a more intense earthiness. That floral aftertaste I just told you about? It stuck around for the full smoke, serving as a relay between its lighter open and heavier end.

I began to get some chocolate towards the latter half, but accompanied by a little green pepper. It warmed up, but without becoming bitter. I’ve found that if your age the shit out of these in a cabinet for a few years, they get this amazing espresso quality in the last 3rd that is just….. thick. I smoked it all the way to the nub, until my fingers were getting hot. I didn’t want to put it down. It was such a fitting period on my long day. It’s a sleeper for a reason — the Apo is too often devoid of the reputation garnered by smokes like Montecristo No. 2, yet it offers up more consistent nuance in my book.

Pairing: What to Drink?

I didn’t have access to a full bar (I was in the garage, remember?), but I had a bottle of aged rum stashed away in a cabinet. A nice, dark Cuban or Nicaraguan rum is great here; with the molasses sweetness in the drink playing off of the nutty, spicy notes in the Upmann.

If you drink coffee : A double espresso is your friend. This bitterness contrasts with the smoothness of the cigar and unlocks some of its latent cocoa flavours. If you prefer scotch, reach for something with a little bit of Highland heather and honey — nothing too peaty. You don’t really want a smoky Islay scotch battling against the subtle floral notes in the Magnum 46. You don’t want something fighting, you want something that is sympathetic.”

The Verdict

I have to tell you, the H. Upmann Magnum 46 is one of those smokes that make me think about why I got into this forgetful habit in the first place. This isn’t about showing off or seeking the most potent nicotine high. Is that it’s an hour and 15 minutes of pure, balanced transitions. It’s an elegant smoke that somehow feels rough-and-tumble enough to belong on a garage workbench.

Is it for everyone? Maybe not. If you’re looking for a cigar that tastes like campfire and well-worn leather boots from the first light, move on. But if you like a smoke that unfolds on the taste buds, that begins with honey and flowers and ends with espresso and oak — than the stick for you. It’s consistently excellent, and for a Cuban it’s a value play that punches well above its weight class.

I smoked that cigar down to the nub, crushed it out in the ashtray and at last felt as if the deal was really accomplished. I re-entered the house smelling of cedar, and of victory. You could not ask for much more than that.

Tip: If you find a cabinet-full of these, buy them.

Let them sit for two years. You’ll thank me later.

Solid.