Description

The Long Return: A Night with the Partagás 8-9-8 Varnished

The chips were clacking—that rhythmic, hollow sound that gets under your skin after a few hours at the table. It was Big Mike’s basement, the kind of place that smells like old wood, stale beer, and memories. For most of the guys, it was just another Friday night. For me, it was a comeback. You see, I’d walked away from the leaf three years ago. No big health scare, no dramatic vow—I just woke up one day and felt like I’d tasted everything there was to taste. The spark was gone. So, I put down the cutter and walked away.

But tonight was different. We were celebrating Sal’s promotion, and the air was thick with that “anything goes” energy. I’d been sitting there for two hours, nursing a club soda and playing a tight game, watching the blue smoke from the other guys’ sticks drift toward the rafters. Then Mike reaches into his cabinet and pulls out this box. Not just any box. It was a varnished 8-9-8. The wood glowed under the dim basement lights like a piece of high-end furniture. He didn’t even ask. He just slid it across the green felt toward me.

I ran my thumb over the lid. That smooth, lacquered finish felt cool, almost therapeutic. I knew what was inside. I knew the history. And I knew that if I was going to break a three-year fast, this was the only way to do it. I popped the latch, and that unmistakable scent of the Vuelta Abajo hit me—earth, cedar, and a hint of something spicy that whispered, “Welcome back.” I picked one out, felt the weight of it, and realized I’d been kidding myself for three years. I wasn’t done with this hobby. Not by a long shot.

The Transition

That smoke? The Partagás 8-9-8 Varnished. It isn’t just a cigar; it’s a statement of intent. It’s a Lonsdale that demands you sit down and pay attention for a good hour and a half, maybe more if you’re a slow burner like me. It’s part of the old guard, a vitola that survived the trends of “bigger is better” and stuck to its guns with a slim, elegant profile that packs more punch than most of the 60-ring gauge monsters on the market today.

Product Specifications

Construction: The Feel in the Hand

I gotta say, the first thing you notice about the 8-9-8 isn’t even the cigar itself—it’s the box. The name comes from how they’re packed: a row of eight on the bottom, nine in the middle, and eight on top. It gives the cigars a slight, very subtle press that isn’t quite box-pressed but feels intentional. The sticks themselves are gorgeous. The wrapper on mine was a Colorado Maduro—a deep, oily brown that looked like silk. It had that slight toothiness you want from a Partagás, but it was supple, not brittle.

Holding it felt right. It’s got a decent length at 170mm, but the 43 ring gauge makes it feel manageable, almost nimble. I gave it a gentle squeeze, and it was firm all the way down—no soft spots, no “plugs” waiting to ruin my night. The pre-light draw was exactly what I remembered: a mix of damp soil, white pepper, and a very distinct toasted tobacco aroma. It felt like I was holding a piece of history. I used a straight cut, took one last breath of the unlit foot, and struck the match.

The First Third: A Slow Burn

The first few puffs were surprisingly polite. You’d expect a Partagás of this reputation to kick the door down, but the 8-9-8 is a slow builder. The initial smoke production was a bit thin, which is common for this vitola until it gets some heat in the core. The flavors were dominated by a very clean, light cedar and a bit of dry hay. It was earthy, sure, but in a “morning in the forest” kind of way, not a “dirt in your mouth” kind of way.

I sat back, let the first few hands of poker go by without even looking at my cards. I was just focused on the retrohale. There was a tiny tingle of white pepper, but it was mostly smooth. If you’re looking for a flavor bomb right out of the gate, this might frustrate you. But for me, after three years away? It was the perfect re-introduction. It was gentle, inviting me back into the fold without overwhelming my palate.

The Second Third: The Partagás Soul

About twenty minutes in, the cigar decided it was done being polite. This is where the 8-9-8 earns its paycheck. The strength ramped up from a medium to a solid medium-full. The smoke became much denser, coating the mouth with a heavy, velvety texture. This is where those trademark Partagás spices started to dance. I’m talking about baking spices—cinnamon, maybe a touch of nutmeg—mixed with a very clear roasted coffee note.

I remember leaning over to Mike and saying, “Now we’re talking.” The leather note came through strong here. It reminded me of a new pair of boots or an old library chair. It was masculine, rugged, and incredibly consistent. There’s a reason this cigar is a “shining star” in the Habanos lineup. It doesn’t fluctuate wildly; it just deepens. I started picking up hints of roasted cacao and a mocha sweetness that balanced out the spicy wood. It was complex but not confusing. You knew exactly what you were smoking.

The Final Third: The Power Play

As we got into the final stretch, the 8-9-8 dropped the “medium” and went straight for full power. If you haven’t eaten a decent meal before smoking this, it’ll let you know. The strength hits you in the chest, but it’s a clean hit. The flavors turned darker—think dark chocolate, heavy cream, and a cereal-like graininess that kept things interesting. There was a slight acidity that crept in, but it wasn’t sour; it was more like the brightness you get in a good espresso that cuts through the richness.

The “punch” was real. I was feeling a bit of a buzz, which was a hell of a way to celebrate my return to the hobby. Even in the final inch, the cigar didn’t get hot or bitter. It stayed cool, allowing me to nub it until my fingers were at risk. The ash was a solid light gray, holding on in one-inch chunks, a testament to the Dalias factory’s craftsmanship. It’s a workout for your palate, but a rewarding one.

The Pairing: What to Drink

Since I was at a poker night, I stuck to what was on the table, but if I were doing this again at home, I’d be specific. You need something that can stand up to the leather and spice without getting lost. A peated Scotch might be too much—it would fight the cigar. I’d go with a aged dark rum, something with a bit of molasses sweetness to bridge the gap with those cacao notes. Or, honestly? A double espresso. The 8-9-8 has such a strong coffee/mocha profile in the second third that a good Cuban coffee would be a match made in heaven. On this night, I had a simple bourbon on the rocks, and the vanilla notes in the whiskey played very nicely with the cedar.

The Verdict

Look, the Partagás 8-9-8 Varnished isn’t a “casual” smoke. You don’t light this up while you’re mowing the lawn or distracted by a loud movie. It’s a 90-minute commitment. It’s a cigar for people who actually like the taste of tobacco and want to see how it evolves over a long session. It’s consistent, it’s powerful, and it’s got a pedigree that most other sticks can only dream of.

Is it for everyone? Probably not. If you like light, airy, “creamy” cigars that stay in the background, this will likely be too much for you. But if you want a cigar that tells a story, that starts with a whisper and ends with a roar, this is it. It’s the cigar that brought me back to the hobby, and for that alone, it’s got a permanent spot in my humidor. Just make sure you dry-box it for a day or two before you light it up—it helps open up that tight Cuban draw and lets those spices really sing.

Solid. Absolutely solid.

I ended the poker night down fifty bucks, but honestly? Holding that Partagás and feeling that familiar blue smoke around me again… I felt like I’d won the jackpot.