Partagas Churchill De Luxe

Description

Partagás Churchill de Luxe Review

Last Tuesday night I was sitting in the back corner of “The Velvet Note,” a cozy little basement jazz club whose air always smells like half part floor wax, half part history. The saxophonist had reached his middle point in a slow, sad rendition of

Autumn Leaves, and it was the first time in a month that my phone had not been on and I wasn’t in a fog. It was quiet—quiet of the sort you can only get with a roomful full of people who are all wandering the same tune. I began rifling through my leather breast-pocket notebook, searching for a blank page to take note of a thought, when a small, grainy photo escaped the binding.

Product Specifications

It was a Polaroid, its edges yellow and slightly curled like a dried tobacco leaf. It was me, twenty-something years ago, on a crumbling stone wall in Old Havana, squinting into the Caribbean sun. Behind me was the fabled Partagás factory, that grand cathedral of tobacco on Calle Industria. In the picture, I’m holding a long, slim-bum cigar while my face is filled with complete and total satisfaction.

Looking at that photo didn’t merely recall the memory; it recalled the taste. That smoke? The

Partagás Churchill de Luxe. The others mourn the loss of a legend.

It’s not quite backward, but it is certainly ghostly these days, a vitola that will only be remembered until we all die and half of us aren’t smokers anymore anyway. I happened to have one left in my travel humidor — a cigar I had been saving for a time that seemed right. And as I sat on that bench, the bass line beating through the floorboards, I knew it was time to burn one. The Specs

But before I dig into the nitty-gritty, let’s talk about what we have going on here.

And this isn’t the thick-gauge smoke that everybody enjoys these days. This is old-school elegance. Feature
Specification
Product Name
Partagás Churchill de Luxe (Cuban)
Vitola de Galera
Julieta No. 2 (Churchill)
Wrapper/Binder/Filler
Cuban Vuelta Abajo
Construction: The Feel of Havana

Holding a Churchill de Luxe is not the same as cherishing a Robusto contemporary.

It’s long, it’s lean and like precision tools you can have a itch for knives. My individual sample was coffee bean brown—not quite a maduro but a deep, oily Colorado and it felt like 55 over my especial’s soft box press too. I ran my thumb the length of it and found it was a bit toothy, albeit with those fine, delicate veins that you only get in good Vuelta Abajo leaf. It wasn’t soft and spongy; it had a firm and consistent pack from head to foot.

I applied the double-guilottine cutter and nicked the well placed cap. The pre-light draw was slightly tight, as I have learned to be typical for these older Cuban Churchills. You are not looking for a “straw” draw on the Molotov cocktail that is a seven-inch cigar; you would like there to be a little bit of resistance so that cherry doesn’t get too hot. Upon the cold draw, I received a punch of dry cedar and an extremely bold barnyard characteristic.

It had the odor of a rainy afternoon in a tobacco house. I gotta tell you, even just holding it unlit, I felt kind of like a statesman out of time. First Third: A Soft Landing

I toasted the foot gradually with a single-flame torch, and I made sure every millimeter of that 47-ring gauge was lit before I took my first puff. ( A version of this article appears in print on, on Page D1 of the New York edition with the headline: ‘Same Pig, New Wig’: The Best Brands Of Cured Meat Stick To Tradition) Cocktails emailed at 5 a. m, Suntory Whisky at noon and G. H.

Mumm Champagne not long after — it seemed like the good times would never end. And then we’d have to look up another pig fact and get back to work. isOpen: false2 Related Coverage Same Pig, New Wig: There were mountains of acrid dust by day and rivers of beer by night; someone set off firecrackers at 3 a. m.; an open field doubled as an impromptu bathroom; leftovers from abandoned camps adorned slick rocks throughout your country’s biggest bureaucratic circle-jerk since We started working our way through hundreds of pounds of them for this project six months ago, when I asked you all for help building a bespoke meat server fit for Instagram with the fancy phone number colored pantone tangerine so take no timeout you sappy banana farewell-style experience. There was a sweetness just on my lips — like, almost as if I’d had a little honey — but it was immediately underscored with such hit of nutmeg and toasted nuts. It wasn’t an aggressive start.

It was courteous, like the opening phrases of a jazz set when the band plays itself into a groove. An inch in, those cedar notes started to come alive. Not the sharp, biting cedar of a young cigar, but a mellow, old woodiness. The smell coming off the foot was something else, rich and florally with no doubt as to what marque it belongs to: Partagás.

The burn was solidly, straight-as-a-line and the ash was a light, flaky grey that held to about an inch and a half before I tapped it into the crystal ashtray on the table. Solid start. THE SECOND THIRD: THE HEART OF THE CHARACTER

I started making my way towards the nub and the strength slowly began to increase. This is where Partagás DNA reveals itself.

The sweetness took a back seat at that point and developed into a deep, dark cocoa with an extremely prominent leather. It was weightier in the mouth with the smoke, viscous and velvety. I noticed myself slowing down, taking a puff approximately once a minute and enjoying the flavors on my palate. The earthiness was the main attraction this time.

If you’ve ever spent much time in the Pinar del Río region, you know that smell of the red soil after a storm; it’s earthy —rich, minerally heavy and ancient. That’s what I was tasting. “There was kind of a little spice that crept in as well — not a black pepper burn, but more like baking spice, say like cinnamon or clove, just tinged the back of my throat. The complexity was building nicely, layers of flavor added to the stack without any one note drowning out the rest. The Third Act: The Daring Climax

The “de Luxe” formality was out the door as I came to the last two inches, and the Churchill de Luxe had flexed hard enough to show me his true “Partagás” muscle.

The body entered full-strength territory. The spice went from baked goods to a straight forward white pepper especially on the retrohale. I had a tickle in my nose — but with the right guy. The leather and earth notes grew stronger, with some charred oak.

Even as the heat came nearer and closer to my fingers, however, the taste never grew bitter: proof of good aged tobacco. It was an exclamation point of a finish that kept me focused. The jazz band had entered into a frenetic bebop solo by this point, and the cigar was giving it cut for cut. I smoked it down to the nub, kept on puffing until warmth was biting at my fingers, loath to part with it.

Pairing: Keeping it Classic

You don’t want to put a cigar like this up against something that’s going to combat it.

I had a glass of 12-year-old Cuban rum, neat, and I was sipping it. The rum’s molasses sweetness was excellent for cutting the cigar’s earthy and peppery finish. If you don’t like rum, I think a shot of really strong black espresso would be my next-best option. And you want something that has the spine to stand up to that final third, but not so acidic that it spoils the creamy beginning.

A heavy peated scotch might be a bit too much here—you don’t want the smoke in the drink to overpower the subtleties of that oak leaf. The History: A Vanishing Act

It’s worth mentioning that the Churchill de Luxe has a somewhat tragic backstory. Don Jaime Partagás founded the brand in 1, and from the beginning, it has been known for these hearty, earthy profiles. But this particular vitola — the Julieta No. 2 — is a rare gem.

Although they still offer the legendary Lusitania (ironically a Double Corona), the Churchill de Luxe is all but discontinued with only limited production being produced as of 2. Finding one today typically involves scavenging an old-timer’s humidor or paying a premium at auction for a box made in 1. It’s a little hard to find, which makes the experience feel almost precious. Do not pass this along; it’s nothing to do with smoking, and yet it is: It’s not just a smoke; it’s a time capsule.

It’s a throwback to the time in Cuban production where what was coming out of Cuba then were these very long, slow burning formats that they had withstanding for an hour and a half.”
The Verdict

So, then, is the Partagás Churchill de Luxe worth tracking down?

If you’re that drinker looking for the old school, dirty, earthy Cuban profile then hell yes. It’s not a “pretty” smoke in the sense of subtle flavors — it’s a workhorse. It’s sophisticated but rugged. It’s a stogie that makes you want to sit in a dark room and think about what you’ve done with your life because it is great tool for reflecting; contemplating where you’ve been, and planning your next maneuver.

It lasted me a solid 75 minutes, precisely the duration of the band’s second set. By the time I set the nub down, I felt centered. The peace I’d stumbled upon early in the evening had been deepened through the smokescreen ritual. Such a pity they don’t make these the way they used to, but I’m really grateful I had that one last stick to join up those dots between that old Polaroid and man writing this today.

If you come across a box of these with a bit of age on them, don’t hesitate. Just buy them. You can thank me later. Final Thoughts:
A masterclass in Cuban earthiness.

Is it a commitment? Yes, an extended one; but every minute is worth it. Solid through and through.