Montecristo No 4

Description

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Product Specifications

I have this interminable thing I do every year. Some people throw big parties, others hike on their birthdays, but for me the birthday has always been about finding some corner of the world I haven’t yet parked my butt in. This year, I ended up a flight of stairs in a basement jazz club with no sign on the street, just a heavy oak door and the rhythmic muffled thumping of a double bass. The air inside was heavy, not just with the ghost of a thousand cigarettes but that particular electric energy you feel when the musicians are playing for themselves and don’t give a damn whether you’re listening or not.

I felt adventurous. I’d spent the day strolling streets I struggled to pronounce, and now in a velvet booth that had seen fonder decades, I realized my neglect of packing a “special occasion” stick. “But then I realized that I had a couple of stalwart pals nestled in my travel humidor. I didn’t want a giant double corona or some limited release that cost more my shoes. I wanted something that understood the roominess of a room like this. I wanted something that wouldn’t take me till bedtime but wasn’t about to vanish before you knew it.

That smoke? The Montecristo No. 4. It’s been my old standby for years when I want a sure thing. It’s a cigar that doesn’t bother to revolutionize the wheel; it just unequivocally rolls perfectly every single time I order it. Sitting there that night, watching the saxophonist close his eyes and lean into a solo, I clipped the cap and felt the weight of a tradition that’s been running since 1935. It felt right. It felt solid.

The Specs

Construction: Feels Like a Classic

I’ve held countless cigars in my hands — some felt like they were machine rolled or that I could unravel them with just a puff, and others felt strong enough to dial a phone on.

The No. 4 is different. This one was the perfect example of that classic Cuban “rustic” look — not perfectly smooth, like some of those New World wrappers that look like they’ve been photoshopped, but authentic. It was a tad toothy, that rich Colorado-colored wrapper that might have been old leather under the subdued light of the jazz club.

I gave it a soft squeeze. It was solid, no soft spots and that is always a joy with a Mareva. Sometimes a draw from these thinner ring guages can be a bit of a crap shoot, but this one seemed well packed. The weight — around 8.5 grams — is light enough to dangle from your mouth while you’re fumbling with a lighter, but heavy enough for it to feel like you’re holding something real. The pre-light draw hit me with a smack of dry cedar and just a sweet note, almost of hay or dried flowers or something. This I didn’t need a torch for; just use a cedar spill or soft flame match anytime you’re in the mood I was. I roasted the foot very slowly, and watched the glowing orange cherry work its way down the Vuelta Abajo leaf.

The First Third: Coffee and Chocolate Commencement

It is always those initial drags that tell you the most. You have a smoke that comes on way too strong sometimes? This isn’t that. The No. 4 also opened with a nice oily-smooth smoke, and as it filled my mouth I was immediately struck by the roasted coffee/dark cocoa flavors in the profile. It wasn’t too sweet, more like a good dark chocolate bar. I will have to say, however, bare in mind it is a 42 ring gauge, but the smoke volume was very good. It floated in the air, with the blue light of the club’s smoking room surrounding it.

After about ten minutes some of the cedar notes from the pre-draw began to awaken as well. It’s a clean woodiness, not at all bitter. There’s a trade-off here that I like. I’ve puffed sticks that are overly ambitious in doing a lot of things in short order, but the Monte No. 4 proceeds at its own pace. It’s not full-bodied, but it is rich enough to feel fuller than what “medium-bodied” might imply. The ash was impressive — a good, salt-and-pepper-like grey that seemed to want to stick around for a while. I let it burn down about a third as the band shifted to a slower, more soulful cadence. The cigar, and the music, were obviously inebriated.

The Second Third: The Sweet Spot

In the center of the stick, as I smoked down, flavors began to band together. This is where I’ve typically found the “Montecristo magic.” But that cocoa note from the first third began to ape a sweet vanilla and cream. It’s subtle, though. You have to look for it. Puff too quickly and you’ll miss it. I took a long drag, held the smoke for a second. There it was — a whisper, I could describe it only as the citrus tang of orange peel, slicing through all that creaminess. It’s a nice little twist to keep things from getting monotonous.

The spice also began to tingle the back of my throat here. It’s not a “pepper bomb” by any means; more of a baking spice — nutmeg or maybe just a hint of cinnamon. It plays well with the cedar. The draw remained consistent as well, a tribute to the rollers at the Upmann factory (or wherever Habanos is having them roll these days). I have had No. 4s in the past as tight as a drum, but this one behaved itself. I believe it’s these two years of ageing for the leaves which really shines in the middle third. It all feels in sync, the bass and drums having finally located that sweet, perfect pocket.

The Dying Third: Earth and Intensity

I begun entering the final third as the band was removed and boy were they cooking, both arc suelos deliciosos. The creaminess was diminishing and those earthier notes were coming out. I mean that rich, loamy soil flavor that only comes from Pinar del Rio tobacco. It’s dark, it’s deep and there’s nothing bland about Castro. The spice got a little more ambitious, too; it wasn’t baking spice anymore, instead becoming something more aggressive — black pepper and leather.

Even close to the nub, it didn’t become too hot or bitter. I have smoked them down until they cooked my fingers, and this one was no exception. That’s why this is one of the best-selling vitolas in the world. It’s consistent. It’s not trying to show off; it serves a strong, medium-strength set that knows its way to the exit on a high. I ashed it in the tray with an inch left, watching the last curl of smoke drift to the ceiling. I experienced a heartfelt sense of pleasure. One year older, and I’d done exactly what I wanted for forty-five minutes of it.

The Pairing: Keep It Classic

In that jazz club, I was drinking a dark rum aged for years — not too fancy, just enough caramel and oak to hold its own against the cigar.

I believe a 7-year-old Cuban rum (for the curious, my answer is Havana Club — made in Cuba, if you can find it) to be the perfect companion to a No. 4. The sweetness of the rum draws out vanilla notes from the cigar, while the tobacco’s earthiness roots the spirit.

If you don’t drink, or if you’re gonna smoke this in the morning ( I highly recommend it ), then a double espresso is your friend. The coffee notes in the first third of the cigar will be singing when they meet your palate, complementing a properly pulled shot. I’ve had these with a plain old black tea as well, and the herbal notes of the Montecristo really come out in that situation. Stay away from anything that’s too sugary or carbonated — you don’t want the delicate Vuelta Abajo leaf to be muddied.

The Verdict

Listen, this Montecristo No. 4 is not a “unicorn” of a cigar. You can find them in most decent humidors that have a selection of Cubans. But there’s a beauty to that approachability. It’s a workhorse. It’s the cigar I give to friends who are beginners just starting out because it is not overwhelming and it’s the cigar that I keep for myself when someone special about when and why I started smoking in the first place.

Is it the weirdest thing I’ve ever smoked? No. But is it among the most good? Absolutely. It’s balanced, it tastes good and fits into pretty much any situation — from a birthday celebration at a secret jazz club or even just sitting on your porch watching the world go by. It’s a classic for a reason. If you haven’t had one in ages, do yourself a favor and buy one. It’s like popping on a favorite record; you know what you’re going to get, and it never fails to hit the right notes.

Final Thought: Buy a box or more and let them sit for a year or two. They’re good to go right out of the gate, but that extra trip to the humidor seems to smooth out a little roughness and allow that vanilla and cream profile really take over. Trust me on that one.

Solid. Truly solid.