Partagas Churchill De Luxe

Description

I was sitting in the back corner of “The Velvet Note” last Tuesday, a little basement jazz club where the air always smells like a mix of floor wax and history. The saxophonist was halfway through a slow, mournful rendition of Autumn Leaves, and for the first time in a month, my phone was off and my head was clear. It was peaceful—the kind of quiet you only find in a room full of people who are all lost in the same song.

I started digging through my leather breast-pocket notebook, looking for a blank page to jot down a thought, when a small, grainy photo slipped out. It was a Polaroid, edges yellowed and curled like a dried tobacco leaf. It was me, twenty-odd years ago, sitting on a crumbling stone wall in Old Havana, squinting against the Caribbean sun. Behind me was the iconic Partagás factory, that majestic cathedral of tobacco on Calle Industria. In the photo, I’m holding a long, slender cigar with a look of pure, unadulterated contentment on my face. Seeing that photo didn’t just bring back the memory; it brought back the taste.

That smoke? The Partagás Churchill de Luxe. It’s a ghost of a cigar these days, a vitola that carries the weight of history and the heartbreak of a discontinued legend. I happened to have one left in my travel humidor—a stick I’d been saving for a moment that felt right. And sitting there, with the bass line thumping through the floorboards, I knew it was time to light it up.

The Specs

Before I get into the grit of the experience, let’s look at what we’re dealing with here. This isn’t your average thick-gauge smoke that’s popular today. This is old-school elegance.

Construction: The Feel of Havana

Holding a Churchill de Luxe is a different kind of experience than holding a modern Robusto. It’s long, it’s lean, and it feels like a precision tool. My particular specimen had a wrapper the color of roasted coffee beans—not quite maduro, but a deep, oily Colorado. I ran my thumb down the length of it, and it felt slightly toothy, with those fine, delicate veins you only see in high-quality Vuelta Abajo leaf. It didn’t feel soft or spongy; it had a firm, consistent pack from the head to the foot.

I took my double-guillotine cutter and nipped the cap. The pre-light draw was a bit snug, which is something I’ve come to expect from these older Cuban Churchills. You don’t want a “straw” draw on a seven-inch cigar; you want a little resistance so the cherry doesn’t get too hot. The cold draw gave me a hit of dry cedar and a very distinct, barnyard earthiness. It smelled like a rainy afternoon in a tobacco warehouse. I gotta say, just holding it unlit, I felt a bit like a statesman from another era.

The First Third: A Gentle Introduction

I toasted the foot slowly with a single-flame torch, making sure every bit of that 47-ring gauge was glowing before I took my first puff. The initial smoke was surprisingly creamy. There was a sweetness right on my lips—almost like a touch of honey—but it was immediately backed up by a hit of nutmeg and toasted nuts. It wasn’t an aggressive start. It was polite, like the opening bars of a jazz set where the band is just finding their groove.

About an inch in, the cedar notes started to wake up. It wasn’t that sharp, biting cedar you get with younger cigars, but a mellow, aged woodiness. The aroma coming off the foot was incredible—rich, floral, and unmistakably Partagás. The burn was straight as a line, and the ash was a light, flaky grey that held on for a good inch and a half before I tapped it into the crystal ashtray on the table. Solid start.

The Second Third: The Core of the Character

As I moved into the middle of the cigar, the strength started to ramp up. This is where the Partagás DNA really shows its face. The sweetness faded into the background, replaced by a deep, dark cocoa and a very pronounced leather note. It felt heavier in the mouth, the smoke becoming thicker and more velvety. I found myself slowing down, taking a puff every minute or so, just letting the flavors sit on my palate.

The earthiness became the star of the show here. If you’ve ever spent time in the Pinar del Río region, you know that smell of the red soil after a storm—it’s rich, mineral-heavy, and ancient. That’s what I was tasting. There was a bit of spice creeping in, too—not a black pepper burn, but more of a baking spice, like cinnamon or clove, that tickled the back of my throat. The complexity was building beautifully, layers of flavor stacking on top of each other without any one note drowning out the others.

The Final Third: The Bold Finish

By the time I reached the final two inches, the Churchill de Luxe had dropped the “de Luxe” formalities and was showing its “Partagás” muscle. The body moved firmly into the full-strength category. The spice transitioned from baking notes to a more direct white pepper, especially on the retrohale. My nose was tingling, but in a good way.

The leather and earth notes intensified, and a bit of charred oak made an appearance. Despite the heat getting closer to my fingers, the flavor didn’t turn bitter—a testament to the quality of the aged tobacco. It was a bold, punchy finish that demanded my full attention. The jazz band had moved into a high-energy bebop solo by then, and the cigar was matching that intensity puff for puff. I smoked it right down to the nub, until I could feel the warmth on my fingertips, reluctant to let it go.

Pairing: Keeping it Classic

You don’t want to pair a cigar like this with something that’s going to fight it. I was sipping on a glass of 12-year-old Cuban rum, neat. The molasses sweetness of the rum did a great job of cutting through the earthy, peppery finish of the cigar. If you’re not a rum person, a strong, black espresso would be my second choice. You need something with enough backbone to stand up to that final third, but nothing so acidic that it ruins the creamy start. A heavy peated scotch might be a bit much here—you don’t want the smoke of the drink to hide the nuances of the leaf.

The History: A Vanishing Act

It’s worth noting that the Churchill de Luxe has a bit of a tragic history. Partagás was founded in 1845 by Don Jaime Partagás, and they’ve always been known for these bold, earthy profiles. But this specific vitola—the Julieta No. 2—has become a rarity. While the brand still produces the legendary Lusitania (a Double Corona), the Churchill de Luxe was largely phased out or discontinued around 2006. Finding one now usually means digging through an old-timer’s humidor or paying a premium at an auction for a box from 1998.

The fact that it’s hard to find makes the experience feel a bit more precious. It’s not just a smoke; it’s a time capsule. It represents an era of Cuban production where the focus was on these long, slow-burning formats that allowed the blender to really tell a story over the course of an hour and a half.

The Verdict

So, is the Partagás Churchill de Luxe worth the hunt? If you’re a fan of that classic, gritty, earthy Cuban profile, then absolutely. It’s not a “pretty” smoke in terms of delicate flavors—it’s a workhorse. It’s sophisticated but rugged. It’s the kind of cigar that makes you want to sit in a dark room and think about where you’ve been and where you’re going.

It lasted me a good 75 minutes, which was exactly the length of the band’s second set. By the time I put the nub down, I felt centered. The peace I’d found at the beginning of the night had been reinforced by the ritual of the smoke. It’s a shame they don’t make these like they used to, but I’m glad I had that one last stick to bridge the gap between that old Polaroid and the man I am today. If you ever stumble across a box of these with some age on them, don’t hesitate. Just buy them. You can thank me later.

Final Thoughts: A masterclass in Cuban earthiness. It’s a long commitment, but every minute is earned. Solid through and through.