Montecristo Double Corona Limited Edition 2001

Description

Product Specifications

Too peaceful, maybe. I hadn’t smoked a cigar in five years. Not a puff. I’d stepped away from the hobby for what felt like good reasons at the time — health, money, changing a pace that was beginning to feel like a treadmill — but really I just wanted to prove to myself I could.

I’d kept my humidors, though. I couldn’t bear to let the collection go. They sat in my study like tiny wooden coffins, filled with the ghosts of my past indulgences. But that night on the ranch, something changed.

The air was dry and smelt of cedar and dust, my hands were empty. I fished out of the travel humidor I had thrown in on a lark and pulled forth a stick that I hadn’t laid eyes on in 10 years. I rolled it between my fingers, testing the tiny softness of the tobacco. I wasn’t certain I even knew how to do this correctly anymore.

I snipped the cap, lit the foot with a match and watched the flame dance beneath it. That first draw? It wasn’t just a smoke. It was a homecoming.

I sat for hours, two at least, soaked in the stars poking holes within the dark; a reminder of what I’ve been missing. That smoke? The

Montecristo Double Corona Edición Limitada 2. It was some way to end a fast.

The Specs

Before I dive into the weeds and get all up in this thing’s smoke, let’s break down the vitals.

This isn’t a small cigar. If you’re after a quick hit while waiting for a cab, look elsewhere. This is a commitment. Attribute
Details
Vitola de Galera
Prominentes
Binder/Filler
Cuban
Weight
17.86g
Release Year
2 (Available through 2002)
Construction and Pre-light

The Montecristo Double Corona EL 2 is a cigar in color.

It’s got this deep, chestnut brown wrapper that looks like a well-oiled saddle. It has a bit of marbling to it — darker streaks swirling into lighter ones — that makes it look rugged, natural. It’s not that overly processed, generic look you see on some modern sticks. It looks as if it sprang up from the dirt, which, of course, it did.

Feels solid in the hand. (At 7 5/8 inches, that is a long way to go. It has a smooth, almost oily texture for being more than 2 decades old. I didn’t see too many soft spots, though the foot seemed a little tight. That’s the deal with these older Cubans; sometimes construction can be a bit of gamble but this one seemed good.

I had a straight cut and took a cold draw. It was slightly firm — what I like to call a “cool draw.” It didn’t feel blocked, just a little stiff. The taste on the lips was just all molasses and dry earth, a bit of vanilla that lingered toward the back of my throat. I have to say, the smell from the unlit wrapper would almost make me forget why I’d quit in the first place.

The First Third: The Awakening

To light a Robusto takes a few seconds, but lighting a Double Corona is an event

.

You can’t rush it. It took me a good minute just to toast that foot, ensuring that every part of that 49-ring gauge was glowing evenly. As soon as I inhaled that first real puff, the room (or front porch) was filled with a draftsman shop of thick, white smoke. The first flavors were downright mellow.

You would think a cigar with this kind of age and “Limited Edition” footprint would kick in the door but it kind of just leaned against the frame. I picked up a ton of cedar from the get-go. It was a dry one, clean and high. Beneath that was a sweetness — the molasses I’d caught on my nose before — and a little of black coffee.

Not an indulgent, sweet latte, mind you: More like a diner cup of coffee you’d let sit on the table for 10 minutes. A bit bitter, a bit sour, but honest. The power was at the top end of mild to medium. It didn’t leave my head spinning, though that was probably for the best — I hadn’t had nicotine in my system for years.

The burn line was a bit wavy, but zero issues getting through this cigar without needing to touch it up. It was as if the cigar had just hit the snooze button after an twenty-year nap and finally decided to stretch its legs. The Second Third: Settling In

The Montecristo took until about a half hour in before it really started to settle into its rhythm

.

The cedar remained, but receded behind the more robust earthiness. If you’ve ever strolled through a forest immediately after rain, that’s the flavor I mean. It is damp, it’s rich and it’s very “Cuban.”

The coffee notes had deepened a shade to something closer to dark chocolate — no, not in the sweet confines of sugar but those 80% percent cacao brown bars that can leave your tongue with just a little bit of dryness. There was also a woody note which reminded me of the oak trees near the ranch.

It’s a very grounded profile. There was no “zing” or hot pepper — just a muted, slow progression of flavors that I thought were quite intentional. The draw remained tight. I had to double-puff a few times to get the density of smoke I sought, but my WPPC never got hot.

Such is the beauty of a Prominente; there is so much tobacco there that the smoke remains cool even when you’re working for it. The ash was pale grey coloured and hung on for an inch and a half before I tapped it off into the dirt. I looked at the second band, “Edición Limitada 2,” and it came back to me that this was indeed the year that Habanos first started to put an actual date on the EL bands. “Now they’re fancy, before they were just plain. It’s a cool little piece of history to chew on.

Final Third: Long farewell

When I got into the last two inches, the cigar finally became a grumpy old man

.

Strength ticked up to a solid medium. Whatever sweetness I tasted before in the first third was now a distant memory with something to the effect of burnt toast and bitter chocolate taking its place.

It was harsh, but effective. It was savory and heavy. There was a bit of leather about it too, which seemed to somehow suit my surroundings. The flavor became very concentrated.

Because draw was still a little tight, every puff seemed to pull the very life of out that 20 year old tobacco. It was a bit salty at the very end and I got to feel nicotine catch up with me at last. I smoked it down to where my fingers were getting hot. I didn’t want to put it down.

There is an element of melancholy to finishing a cigar like this. And you know you’re probably never going to have another one from that vintage, in that situation, again. I let it smolder in the ashtray, smoke snaking into the Texas night. Pairing Recommendations

If you’re going to hang with this cigar for 90 to 1 minutes, you want a companion that’s not going to cause too much trouble as it chatters away at your senses.

Coffee:

Black americano or a straightforward French press. The acid in the coffee really takes out that tobacco of taste of the montecristo. Don’t sweeten it — this blast of bitterness should be bitter. Bourbon:

Something that’s been around the block a few times and is not too rye spicy.

A wheated bourbon — Weller if possible, or even a regular Maker’s Mark. The caramel notes in the whiskey work nicely with the cedar and vanilla you experience in the first half of this cigar. Rum:

If you want to go traditional, a Cuban rum such as Havana Club 7 Year is what’ll do it. It extracts the molasses and cocoa in the body of the smoke.

Water:

Honestly? If you are at a ranch, what you really want is just a cold glass of well water. It keeps the palate clean so you can taste what you paid for. The Verdict

Is this the best thing I’ve ever smoked, Montecristo Double Corona Edición Limitada 2001?

No. I’ve had sticks that draw better and have more complexity going for them. But that’s not really the point of a cigar of this sort. This is a time capsule.

It’s a relic of a time when the Edición Limitada program was still in its infancy and the tobacco had a different soul at that time for what is being produced out of those factories today. The building was “Cuban-solid” — meaning that it was a little bit temperamental but live-with-able. The flavor profile was consistent, earthy and satisfyingly deep, just what we enjoy in a classic wood-forward smoke.

It’s not a “flavor bomb” that’s going to sock you in the mouth with every puff. Instead, it’s a long, easy conversation with an old friend who doesn’t feel obligated to fill every silence with chatter. If by some chance you come across one languishing in a dusty corner of a humidor or at an estate sale, pick it up. It’s a slice of history that ought to be smoked slowly on a quiet porch, somewhere.

It’s a lesson that sometimes stepping back — even for five years!— only makes coming back all the sweeter. Final Thoughts:
A strong, reliable and iconoclastic smoke.

It’s not for the impatient, and it’s not for those who like a spice rack in their mouth. It’s for the man with two hours to kill and a lot of thinking to think. It worked for me, and it worked well. Rating:
Solid.

Very solid.