Montecristo No. 2

Description

The sand was cold under my boots, but I’d humped my gear down to that little patch of coastline just south of Big Sur anyway. Not exactly a vacation, more of a go-get-my-head-straight kind of trip. The sun was not yet over the horizon, so the world was that peculiar bruised-purple early-morning color. I picked up a piece of driftwood — half-bench, half-bleached bone and white — and sat with my thermos. I had made a pot of the strongest, darkest Cuban-style coffee I could rig up back in the cabin, and its steam was all that kept my nose warm against the salt spray.

I was feeling curious. Do you ever have that moment in which you watch a classic and think, Is this really good or possible we just got told it was so long ago that no one wants to admit the truth? I had one cigar wedged in with my leather travel case. It had sat in my humidor for two years, waiting for the perfect morning where I had nothing but time and a quiet tide. I thought if this stick could not turn me on here, in the silence of a deserted beach with my perfect caffeine jolt, then nothing would.

I didn’t unscrew the cap on my thermos and pour a cup, and take out the cigar. It felt heavy. Solid. Not the huge, airy ones you sometimes encounter but dense and serious. I looked at that pointy hat, that iconic silhouette and thought “Oh yeah well let’s see if you’re actually any good or just a soft pretty face.”

The Transition

That smoke? The Montecristo No. 2. It’s the one everybody points to when they say Cuban cigars, the big dog that started out around the 30s. It has that distinctive shape — the Pirámides — and it really makes you feel as though you’re about to do something important. I sat, coffee in hand, with waves lapping against the shore and prepared myself to get to work.

Cigar Specifications

Construction: How it Feels to Build

I have felt a lot of tobacco in my day, but I gotta say the No. 2 has a very special “handshake.” The wrapper was a nice, medium brown that looked much like a well-oiled baseball glove, and it had just a few fine veins. It wasn’t perfectly even—Cuban tobacco seldom is—but it had a bumpy, country-like feel that I like better than some of those overprocessed plastic-looking wrappers you see on New World products. It was firm when I gave it a light squeeze (not soft in any parts, which is always good with these because who are we kidding, Cuban quality control can sometimes be a bit of a lottery system).

The cap is the star of this show. That is a sharp tip, and the cut was slow. For a straight cutter, I took off just enough to be able to get the cigar drawing, but not take away from that tapered feel. The pre-light draw was the way I wanted it: a little bit of resistance, like sucking a thick milkshake through a straw. It tasted of cold earth and a little bit of dried hay. I toasted the foot lazily with my torch, and wasn’t satisfied until every speck of that Vuelta Abajo tobacco was aglow red before I took my first legit puff.

Flavor Profile: A Walk Down the Thirds

The First Third: The Wake-Up Call

The first couple puffs packed more of a punch than I had anticipated. I got the littlest hit of peppery spice right at the back of my throat — not a burn, but just like, “Hey, I’m here.” But underneath, it was all about the earth. It had the flavor of what air smells like just as a rainstorm is breaking on a farm. A couple minutes in, the smoke got creamy. I mean heavy, white clouds that lingered in the air even with the ocean breeze. I began picking up roasted nuts and just trace of cocoa. It was cool, kind of mellow and went great with that first bitter sip of coffee. It was as if the cigar was coming alive with the sun.

The Sweet Spot: The Second Third

Once the burn line got above an inch or so (it was a-line-burning son of a gun, by the way) the spice toned down on me.

This is where the No. 2 Monte tends to open up for me. The taste transformed into something far more complex. Just as suddenly, I began to get a ton of cedar and leather, that classic “old library” vibe that I always love. And suddenly, from no place at all, there was sweetness — dried fruit, say; or possibly a smidge of cinnamon and nutmeg. It was not sweet, but rather a natural aged tobacco sweet. I also got a hit of almond — there was something oily and slightly dense, with the mouth feel of making my tongue cling to it. This is the kind of smoke I leaned back against my driftwood and forgot about everything else. It was balanced, zingy and solid as a rock.

The last third: The power play.

When I was left with the last couple of inches, the intensity definitely amped up. It sort of transitioned from medium to full body in a hurry. The spice returned, but the character of it had darkened — that was going to be more like black pepper. The taste profile shifted to espresso and dark chocolate. It went heavy, rich and earthy once more, a leathery pancake that stayed with me as an aftertaste. I even got a hint of something floral on the retrohale, which was a nice touch at the finish. I smoked it to the point my fingers were getting warm outside and I didn’t want to stop. It never turned bitter, the sign of a good aged Cuban.

Pairing: The Morning Ritual

Now, typically speaking, someone would tell you to pour yourself a glass of aged rum or maybe some heavy Scotch alongside the Monte No. 2. And look, they aren’t wrong. A nice 12-year-old Cuban rum would be the perfect match. But for me? On that beach? It had to be coffee. Black coffee — no sugar, no cream — works best if you really want to taste what the tobacco is doing. The bean’s bitterness cuts through the creaminess of the smoke, emphasizing those nutty, woody notes. If you smoke it later in the day, reach for something with just enough sweetness to offset that final third — a tawny port or even sweet bourbon, for example. But if, like me, you prefer your experiences raw as could be, keep it to the caffeine.

Conclusion: The Verdict

So, was it worth the noise? I tell you what, there is a reason that thing is the standard for a shaped cigar. This is not because they are the best or coolest flavors, just personal favorites for this specific evolution of flavor. It leads to a handshake and concludes with a meaningful conversation. It’s got a personality that seems older than its age, an old-school master-crafted reliability you just don’t see anymore.

Is it for everyone? Maybe not. If you prefer your cigars light and breezy, this may be too much work for you. But if you want a smoke that takes you somewhere, that evolves and ripens on your palate as you linger over it there can be only one choice; and for me: the Montecristo No. 2. It transformed a cold, lonely morning on the beach into one of my favorite memories in recent memory. It’s a meaty, hearty and deeply satisfying piece of business. In my book? And that’s about as good as it gets.