H Upmann Magnum 48 LE 2009

Description

I remember the salt air most of all. It was thick, sticking to my skin like a humid blanket as I sat on the balcony of the Hotel Saratoga in Havana. Below me, the old American cars—the almendrones—clattered and hissed along the Paseo del Prado, their engines coughing out blue smoke that mingled with the twilight. I hadn’t touched a cigar in five years. Five years of “clean living,” five years of passing by the humidor in my study and feeling that dull ache of nostalgia, and five years of promising my wife I’d kicked the habit for good.

But Havana does things to a man’s resolve. I was there to celebrate a decade of a business partnership that had survived more storms than the Florida Straits, and my friend Carlos had placed a small, dark, oily stick on the wrought-iron table between us. He didn’t say a word. He just pushed the cutter toward me. I looked at the gold and black secondary band, the one that said Edición Limitada 2009. My hands actually shook a little. This wasn’t just a smoke; it was a homecoming. I picked it up, smelled that deep, fermented hay and cocoa aroma, and I knew the “quitting” era was officially over. I wasn’t just having a cigar; I was reclaiming a piece of myself.

That smoke? The H. Upmann Magnum 48 Edición Limitada 2009. It was the perfect choice for a man breaking a long fast. It wasn’t a giant double corona that would knock me sideways, but it had that sophisticated, aged weight that told me I was in for something special.

The Specs

Before I get into how this thing actually treated me, let’s look at the vitals. This isn’t your standard production run; this is a piece of history from the José Martí factory.

First Impressions & Construction

I gotta say, the look of this thing is striking. Most H. Upmann sticks have that lighter, “Colorado” shade wrapper, but because this is an Edición Limitada, the leaf is noticeably darker. It’s got this cinnamon-colored, chocolatey hue that looks like it’s been soaking in a vat of espresso. It’s smooth to the touch, almost oily, with very fine veins. Holding it between my fingers, it felt dense. There’s a certain weight to a well-made Cuban that you just don’t find elsewhere—it’s not “hard,” but it feels packed with intent.

The 48 ring gauge is a sweet spot for me. It’s thick enough to feel substantial in your hand but doesn’t make you look like you’re chewing on a bratwurst. I clipped the cap—a clean, surgical snip—and took a cold draw. Straight away, I got that “Cuban twang.” It’s hard to describe if you haven’t had it, but it’s like a mix of sourdough, sweet hay, and a bit of barnyard funk. The draw was a little tight, which is typical for these older Magnums, but I knew once the heat hit it, things would open up.

The First Third: The Reunion

I lit it with a single cedar spill, taking my time to toast the foot until the entire surface was glowing a soft orange. The first few puffs were like a warm hug from an old friend. I was hit with a wave of creamy sweetness—think buttery caramel or even a bit of vanilla bean. It wasn’t sugary, though; it was grounded by a solid oak and cedar backbone.

About ten minutes in, the nutmeg and cinnamon started to peek through. It’s a very “festive” flavor profile, if that makes sense. There was a hint of cocoa on the retrohale that made me close my eyes. Despite being a “short” smoke, the flavors felt incredibly wide. You ever eat a piece of dark chocolate and then immediately sip some heavy cream? That’s the mouthfeel here. The smoke was thick and white, hanging in the humid Havana air like a ghost. I noticed a bit of that herbal, fruity note too—maybe a touch of dried cherry—which kept the woodiness from becoming too dry.

The Second Third: Getting Down to Business

As I moved into the middle of the stick, the sweetness started to take a backseat. The creaminess was still there, but it was fading into a deeper, more “toasted” vibe. I started getting notes of roasted cashews and a bit of licorice. This is where the 2-year aging of the tobacco really shows its face. There’s no harshness, no “young” bite. It’s just smooth, earthy tobacco.

The “twang” intensified here—that sugarcane sweetness that’s unique to the Vuelta Abajo soil. I did have to touch up the burn once; the wrapper was burning a little faster than the filler, but a quick flick of the lighter sorted it out. The ash was a beautiful, salt-and-pepper grey, holding on for nearly an inch before I tapped it off into the crystal ashtray. The strength stayed right at a solid medium. I wasn’t feeling a nicotine buzz, but I was definitely feeling the flavor. It’s a sophisticated profile, not a “punch-you-in-the-gut” kind of smoke.

The Final Third: The Grand Finale

By the time I got down to the last couple of inches, the temperature started to rise, and the flavors got darker. The cedar turned into a more dominant earthiness, and a black pepper spice started to tingle on the back of my throat. It wasn’t overwhelming, just a nice reminder that I was smoking a serious cigar. That buttery creaminess made a brief, surprising comeback right at the end, mixing with the natural tobacco flavor in a way that made me want to nub the thing until my fingers burned.

I stayed on that balcony until there was nothing left but a small, glowing ember. The construction held up beautifully—no tunneling, no plugging. It’s a dense little firecracker that manages to pack about 50 minutes of pure evolution into a four-and-a-half-inch frame. Even as it got short, it didn’t get bitter. It just got… concentrated.

The Pairing

Now, look, you’re in Havana, you drink rum. It’s the law of the land (or it should be). I paired this with a glass of Havana Club 7 Year Old, neat. The dark, molasses-heavy sweetness of the rum played perfectly with the oak and nutmeg notes of the H. Upmann. If you’re not a rum person, a nice, creamy café con leche would do the trick, or even a mellow Highland scotch. You want something that complements the creaminess without overpowering the delicate herbal notes.

The Verdict

Is the H. Upmann Magnum 48 Edición Limitada 2009 worth the hunt? If you can find a well-maintained box from that ’09 run, absolutely. It’s a masterclass in what aging can do for a blend. It takes the classic Magnum DNA—that reliable wood and cream—and adds a layer of dark, spicy complexity that you just don’t get in the regular production Magnum 46 or 50.

It’s a short smoke, sure, but it’s a dense one. It’s for the guy who wants a “big” experience but doesn’t have two hours to kill. It’s for the guy sitting on a balcony, celebrating a return to the things he loves. For me, it was more than a cigar; it was the taste of a promise broken in the best possible way. Solid? You bet. It’s a top-tier piece of Cuban history that’s only getting better with time.

Final Thought: If you see one, buy two. Smoke one now to see what I’m talking about, and put the other one away for another five years. Your future self will thank you.