Montecristo 80th Anniversary

Description

Montecristo 80 Aniversario Review
I was on the water, miles from shore, seated on a decaying Grady-White. It was the kind of night when the ocean quits its rolling — just lies flat, a black mirror, and reflects a sky so crowded with stars that it’s practically weight heavy. The engine was off. No hum, no vibration — just the occasional slap of a wave against the side of the hull.

Product Specifications

It’s a type of silence that makes you consider the things — and I mean these hackneyed phrases like “what it all means” or “your place in the world” — that are usually buried beneath the 9-to-5 grind. I was thinking about time. How it falls through the cracks of your life, and how we notate the big markers before they go away. In my hand was a torch, and on my knee reposed a heavy cedar box.

I didn’t have to have a fish on the line to feel like I’d hooked something special. I just wanted a couple of hours where no one could reach me. And late-night contemplation is better when it comes with a puff or two of smoke to carry those thoughts away, and I’d been saving this particular stick for a moment just like this—something that has some weight to it, something that feels as solid as the darkness gathering around the boat. You ever have one of those nights?

Where the world plays open to the snow and you’re a little guy except that there’s this one thing in your hand and it makes you king of deck? That smoke? The
Montecristo 80 Aniversario
. It’s a beast of a cigar, a celebratory heavy-hitter that Habanos released to mark eight decades of the most famous brand in the world.

I’d been saving this one for a spell, waiting for that alignment between humidity and mood. Sailing on the water, surrounded by the scent of salt air and vintage tobacco, it all began to make sense. The Specs
Product Name
Montecristo 80 Aniversario
Vitola de Galera
Maravillas No. 2
Wrapper/Binder/Filler
100% Vuelta Abajo, Cuba
Weight
17.38 g
Release Date
2016 (Limited Edition)
First Impressions: The Build
I have to say, the first thing that is obvious about the 80 Aniversario isn’t the gold band—that thing is shiny as all get out—it’s practically how freakishly heavy it is.

It has heft in your hand at 17.38 grams, like you’re holding a tool. It’s a 55 ring gauge, which is fat. We’re in “Double Robusto” or “Double Edmundo” land, but the factory-only name is the Maravillas No. 2. I rolled it between my fingers — the boat was rocking gently in Portsmouth harbour, so I knew those rollers at the H.

Upmann factory weren’t messing around. It’s firm. No soft spots, no strange lumps. Nothing but a fat, oily cylinder of Cuban workmanship.

The wrapper is a dark, rich chocolate-brown – typical of the more premium Montecristos. It has that Cuban “rustic” look, with a couple of visible veins, but silky to the touch. First, I took a long whiff from the foot before I ever reached for my cutter. His intense floral smell hit me, with something that was old library books with gnarly edges and dried hay.

I cut the cap — a very clean, straight cut — and cold-drew. Now, I’ve smoked a lot of Cubans but this was strange and the good kind of weird. What I tasted: sweet cinnamon, salt, and — in all seriousness — Lemonhead candy. It was like a zesty, sugary rush that sat firmly at the end of my tongue.

Solid start. The First Third: The Honey Hole
Lighting a fat cigar of 55 ring gauge on a boat is an art.

You need to protect the flame from the sea breeze, give it a slow turn of foot until every inch is glowing like coal. When I did manage to get it started, the first few puffs were plumes. This thing does put out a ton of smoke; it just hung in the still, cool air on the deck like a fog. The first few puffs, at 700°) were very mild tasting for a cigar that’s labeled as medium-to-full.

I got a very hefty dose of caramel and milky chocolate right off the bat. It made me think of those oatmeal cookies with icing on top — sweet, grainy, soothing. An inch in, some woodsiness began to creep in, like cedar that’s been sitting in the sun. And there was also this creamy, malty element.

If you’ve ever had a great milk stout, you know that smooth but not too sweet finish? That’s what was happening here. The draw was just a tad tight — something you can expect from these fat Maravillas — but it didn’t spoil the experience. Fucking hell!

I just had to pace myself. And time was the one thing I had out there on the water. The ash was light grey, clinging stubbornly like it were glued to the binder. I didn’t feel like knocking it off; I wanted to see how high that tower would get.

The Second Third: The Transition
It wasn’t until I reached the halfway mark that the 80 Aniversario began to bare its teeth

.

The “medium” strength feeling I started out with? Yeah, that was gone. It inched definitively up to medium-full. The sweetness from the initial third began to diminish, being replaced by a profound earthy richness.

It seemed as if the cigar was finding its center. I began to pickup notes of roasted nuts (specifically cashew) and a very pronounced vanilla cream. It wasn’t “candy” candy anymore; it was, like, the kind of sophisticated dessert you’d get at a place where they don’t put prices on the menu. I could feel a little black pepper starting to tickle my palate and definitely on the retrohale.

It wasn’t that heavy, just enough to tell you it was on your plate. The burn was pretty even throughout, although a sea breeze did catch one side of the wrapper and required a single touch-up with my torch. The aroma, though… man. The odor of the smoke too was pleasantly stimulating.

It had that “old world” smell of tobacco — leather, coffee beans and dried leaves. I started holding the cigar under my nose between draws, watching the smoke float upward toward the Milky Way. The Business End
The cigar changed again as I worked my way into the final couple of inches. This is where the Vuelta Abajo tobacco comes into its own.

The taste twisted to the dark side. The pepper took over, and the woodiness shifted from “sun-drenched cedar” to something closer to charred oak. The sweetness was nearly gone, replaced by a strong earthy bitterness that reminded me of a double espresso. It was intense.

I did detect a touch of harshness toward the very end, but that’s typically an indication I’ve been puffing too fast. Cigar of that size, take care: Get it too hot and the oils will go acrid. I moderated, allowing it to sit a minute or two between draws. Here the body was solid like a heavy mouth-coating.

It’s a long smoke. I’d been sitting on that boat for almost two hours before I gave it up. I did not want to wait until I had to nub it and burn my fingers, but instead leave while the flavor was still “solid.” I placed it in the ashtray and watched the last of the smoke disappear into the nigh