H Upmann Magnum 50s

Description

The wind had died down to a whisper, just enough to keep the sails from flapping like laundry in a gale. I was sitting on the aft deck of a 40-foot sloop, watching the sun dip toward the horizon off the coast of the Keys. It’s a strange feeling, being out there when the light starts to turn that bruised purple and gold. It’s bittersweet. You’ve had a hell of a day on the water, but you know the day is dying, and tomorrow you’re heading back to the harbor, back to emails, back to the noise. I needed something to anchor me to that moment. Something that wouldn’t quit before the last sliver of orange vanished beneath the waves.

I reached into my travel humidor and felt around. My fingers brushed past some shorter Robustos and landed on something substantial. It was long, thick, and had that unmistakable velvet texture of well-aged Cuban leaf. I pulled it out—the H. Upmann Magnum 50. I’ve always felt this specific vitola was made for transitions. It’s not a quick morning smoke with a latte, and it’s not a frantic celebratory stick you puff on while people are shouting. It’s a “sit down and shut up” kind of cigar. You ever have one of those moments where the world is just too loud, and you need a ninety-minute buffer? That was me on that boat.

I clipped the cap with a straight cut, feeling the resistance of a well-packed bunch. The air smelled like salt and old rope, but as soon as I toasted the foot, the world changed. That first puff of blue smoke drifted up into the rigging, and I knew I’d picked the right companion for the sunset. Let’s get into the weeds on this one.

That smoke? The H. Upmann Magnum 50…

Construction: The Feel of the Craft

I gotta say, there’s something about the 160mm length that just feels right in the hand. It’s got heft. It’s not a “baseball bat” like some of those 60-ring gauge monsters you see people lugging around today, but it’s got presence. The wrapper on mine was a Colorado shade—a nice, reddish-brown that looked like polished mahogany under the setting sun. It wasn’t perfectly smooth; it had some fine veins and a bit of tooth, which I actually prefer. It makes it feel like an agricultural product, not something popped out of a plastic mold.

The pre-light draw was spot on. I’ve had my fair share of “Cuban straws” (the ones you can’t actually pull air through), but this Magnum 50 was giving me just the right amount of resistance. It tasted like cold cedar and dried hay, with a little bit of a floral sweetness on the lips. I spent a good five minutes just smelling the thing before I even brought a flame to it. In my experience, if the pre-light smells like a walk through a damp forest, you’re in for a good ride.

The First Third: The Gentle Introduction

The first few puffs were lighter than I expected, which is classic Upmann. It starts out in that light-to-medium range, not trying to kick your teeth in right away. I got this immediate hit of graham cracker—that toasted, honey-sweetened grain flavor. Then came the vanilla. It wasn’t like a cheap candle; it was more like a dry vanilla bean. Subtle. Elegant.

As I sat there watching the mast sway, I noticed a bit of cinnamon dancing around the edges. It’s a “warm” profile. There’s a rustic leather note in the background that keeps it from being too dessert-like. The smoke output was impressive. Thick, white clouds that hung in the humid air for a second before the sea breeze whisked them away. For the first twenty minutes, it was just pure relaxation. No bite, no harshness, just a smooth, creamy delivery that made the bittersweet feeling of the day’s end a lot more “sweet” than “bitter.”

The Second Third: The Plot Thickens

By the time the sun was halfway behind the horizon, the Magnum 50 started to wake up. This is where the complexity really starts to show its face. The “Double Robusto” size is great because it gives the tobacco plenty of room to develop. The body moved firmly into the medium territory. That graham cracker sweetness didn’t disappear, but it got darker, more like honey and toasted nuts.

I started picking up a distinct black pepper spice on the retrohale. It wasn’t overwhelming—it didn’t make my eyes water—but it provided a nice “zing” that balanced out the creaminess. Then came the cedar. It’s that classic Cuban cedar that reminds you of an old library. I also caught flashes of fruit. You ever eat a dried apricot? It’s got that concentrated, slightly tangy sweetness. That was in there, buried under layers of coffee and leather. It’s a busy flavor profile, but it doesn’t feel cluttered. Everything has its place.

The burn was straight as a line. I didn’t have to touch it up once, even with the occasional gust of wind hitting the deck. The ash was a solid, light gray, holding on for nearly an inch and a half before I tapped it off into the sea. That’s a sign of some seriously good rolling.

The Final Third: The Grand Finale

As the stars started to peek out, the cigar reached its peak. The final third of a Magnum 50 is, in my humble opinion, the best part of the experience. The spice ramps up, but the graham cracker note comes back around for an encore, getting richer and more intense. It’s like the flavors are condensing as the cigar gets shorter.

I started getting a lot of almond notes here. It’s a nutty, slightly oily finish that coats the palate. The leather got deeper, more like an old saddle, and the coffee notes turned into a dark roast espresso. It’s a “full” medium body at this point. It’s satisfying. I smoked it down until my fingers were starting to feel the heat, and even then, it didn’t get bitter or “muddy.” It stayed clean right until the end. I’ve heard people say this cigar has a “powerful, almost raw” smoke, and I get that, but I think “robust” is a better word. It’s got muscle, but it’s wearing a well-tailored suit.

The Backstory: From Limited to Legend

You gotta appreciate the history here. The Magnum 50 wasn’t always a staple in the H. Upmann catalog. It actually started its life as an Edición Limitada back in 2005. People went absolutely nuts for it. It was one of those rare cases where a limited release was so successful that Habanos S.A. had no choice but to bring it into regular production, which they did in 2008. It’s been a mainstay ever since, and for good reason. It fills a gap between the smaller Magnum 46 and the massive Magnum 54. It’s the “Goldilocks” of the Magnum line for me—just the right amount of time and tobacco.

I also heard they’re coming out with a Gran Reserva Cosecha 2019 version soon. Now, I’m usually skeptical of the “extra aged” hype, but with the Magnum 50 blend, I can see how five years of aging on the raw leaf would make this thing sing. But honestly? The regular production stuff is so solid right now that I’m not sure I need to hunt down a “Gran Reserva” to be happy.

Pairing: What to Drink?

On the boat, I was sipping on a heavy, oaky Cabernet Sauvignon. The tannins in a big red wine play really well with the leather and cedar in the Magnum 50. They sort of scrub your palate clean between puffs so you can taste that graham cracker sweetness all over again.

If you’re not a wine person, this is a “steakhouse” cigar. After a big meal of red meat, you want something that can stand up to those heavy flavors. A glass of aged rum or a peaty Scotch would also do the trick, but I’d lean toward something with a bit of sweetness to complement the Upmann’s natural honey notes. Just don’t pair it with something too light, like a pilsner or a gin and tonic; the cigar will just walk all over the drink.

The Verdict

So, who is this for? If you’re a beginner, this might be a lot of cigar to handle—not because it’s too strong, but because it’s a commitment. You’re looking at 90 minutes, easy. If you try to rush it, it’ll get hot and ruin the experience. But if you’re someone who values transitions—someone who likes to watch the flavors evolve from light and floral to dark and spicy—this is a must-have in your humidor.

It’s a reliable, complex, and incredibly “Cuban” experience. It’s got that “twang” that you just can’t find anywhere else. Is it the cheapest stick in the world? No. Is it the easiest to find? Not always. But when you’re sitting on a boat, watching the sun die, and you want to feel like everything is exactly where it’s supposed to be… the Magnum 50 is the right tool for the job.

I stayed on that deck long after the cigar was a nub and the sun was gone. The bittersweet feeling had faded, replaced by a quiet sort of contentment. That’s what a good cigar does. It doesn’t just provide flavor; it provides a memory. And this one? Solid. Absolutely solid.

Final Thoughts: A masterful blend that rewards patience. If you see a box, grab ’em. If you see one, smoke it. Just make sure you have the time to do it justice.