Partagas Lusitanias

Description

I was sitting at my cousin’s wedding reception last June, tucked away in a corner of a sprawling estate in Virginia. The sun was dipping low, painting the sky in these bruised purples and burnt oranges, and the mood was finally starting to settle. You know how weddings go—there’s that frantic energy during the ceremony, the stiff small talk during the cocktail hour, and then, finally, the “relaxed” phase where the ties come off and the real stories start coming out. It actually doubled as a bit of a quiet anniversary dinner for my wife and me, since our ten-year mark hit the same week. We’d managed to snag a small table near the edge of the patio, away from the DJ’s speakers.

I reached into my travel humidor, and I felt it. I’d been saving this one for five years. I’m not kidding—five years of checking the humidity, rotating the box, and just waiting for a window of time that was big enough to actually do the thing justice. My wife looked at the size of the stick and just laughed. She knows the drill. She said, “I guess I’ll see you in three hours?” I told her she was optimistic. I’ve had these go longer. I clipped the cap, felt the weight of it in my hand, and realized that for the next few hours, I wasn’t a guest, a cousin, or a husband on an anniversary date. I was just a guy with a very long, very brown piece of Cuban history.

That smoke? The Partagas Lusitanias. If you’ve ever looked at a cigar and thought, “That looks like it could double as a baton,” you were probably looking at a Lusitania. It’s a beast, but it’s a refined beast. It doesn’t shout at you; it just sits there and waits for you to realize how much you’re going to enjoy the next three hours of your life.

The Specs

Construction: A Lot of Tobacco in One Hand

First off, let’s talk about the sheer physical presence of this thing. Holding a Lusitania is a statement. It’s 194mm long. That’s a lot of real estate. When I pulled it out of the tube, I noticed the wrapper right away. It’s a rich, oily brown, like a well-worn leather chair. I’ve seen some Cubans that look a bit rugged, maybe a stray vein here or there, but the Lusitanias usually get the “A-grade” leaves. You need a big, pristine leaf to wrap a Prominentes vitola, and the torcedores at the Partagas factory—which has been around since 1845, mind you—don’t mess around with these.

I gave it a gentle squeeze. It felt solid, packed tight but with just enough give. I’ve had some big cigars feel like a wet log, but this felt balanced. The weight is about 17.86 grams, which sounds specific because it is. It’s a heavy hitter. The pre-light draw was exactly what I wanted: a bit of resistance, but smooth, tasting like cold cedar and a little bit of sourdough bread. I gotta say, just holding it unlit for five minutes while I watched the wedding guests dance was a vibe in itself. It’s a cigar that demands you slow down before you even strike a match.

The First Third: The Awakening

Lighting a cigar this long is a ritual. You can’t just blast it with a triple-torch and hope for the best. I used a single flame, toasted the foot slowly, and took my time. The first few puffs were surprisingly gentle. You might expect a Partagas to kick you in the teeth right away, but the Lusitanias are different, especially since they tweaked the blend back in 1995. It’s moved toward a more mid-bodied experience, focusing more on the aroma and the “richness” of the Ligero leaves from the Vuelta Abajo zone rather than raw power.

The first inch was all about cedar and baked bread. It was creamy, almost like a latte without the sugar. I caught these little hints of baking spices—think nutmeg or a very faint cinnamon—floating around in the background. It wasn’t overwhelming. It felt like a warm-up. The smoke output was thick and white, hanging in the humid Virginia air like a low cloud. My wife leaned over and said it smelled “actually good,” which is the highest praise a non-smoker can give. It’s got that classic Cuban aroma that’s hard to find anywhere else.

The Second Third: The Sweet Spot

About forty-five minutes in, I was finally hitting the second third. This is where the Lusitania really starts to show off. The flavors shifted from that bready, cedar start into something much deeper. I started picking up honey and caramel. It wasn’t “sweet” like a candy bar, but it had this natural, floral sweetness that played perfectly against a growing cocoa note. It’s a complex dance, man. One puff is almond and roasted nuts, the next is a bit of citrus zest.

I noticed the burn was staying remarkably straight, which is impressive for a cigar this long. Usually, with a Double Corona, you’re fighting a “canoe” effect at some point, but this one stayed true. The ash was a light grey, holding on for nearly two inches before I decided to tap it off. I was feeling that relaxed mood the prompt mentioned—just sitting back, watching the wedding party, and letting the honey and cocoa notes wash over me. It’s a very “meditative” smoke. You can’t rush it. If you try to puff too fast, it’ll get bitter, but if you treat it with respect, it rewards you with layers of flavor that just keep evolving.

The Final Third: The Power Move

By the time I got to the final third, the wedding reception was winding down. The older folks were heading home, and the “anniversary dinner” vibe between me and my wife had turned into a deep conversation about the last decade. The cigar seemed to sense the shift. The flavors got darker, heavier. The honey and cream faded out, replaced by leather, strong black coffee, and a kick of black pepper.

Now, here’s the thing about Lusitanias: if they’re young (less than five years old), this final third can be a bit of a bully. It can get punchy and a bit “hot.” But because I’d aged this one for five years, that transition was smooth. The spice was there, but it was refined. It felt like the cigar was finally showing its true Partagas DNA—that earthy, spicy Cuban soul. I was getting hit with roasted nuts and a woodiness that reminded me of an old library. It stayed cool almost until I couldn’t hold it anymore. I’m telling you, I smoked this thing down until my fingers were at risk.

Pairing Recommendations

Since I was at a wedding, my options were a bit limited to what the open bar had, but I made it work. If you’re going to sit down with a Lusitania, you need a drink that can go the distance. You don’t want something that’s going to burn out your palate in twenty minutes.

• Aged Rum: This is the classic choice. A good 12-year-old Cuban or Nicaraguan rum brings out that honey and caramel in the second third like nothing else.
• Black Coffee/Espresso: If you’re smoking this in the afternoon, a strong, dark roast coffee is solid. The sourdough and cocoa notes in the cigar love the bitterness of the coffee.
• Single Malt Scotch: Go for something with a bit of a Highland profile—nothing too peaty or it’ll fight the cedar notes. Something with a sherry cask finish is a winner.

The Verdict

Look, the Partagas Lusitanias isn’t an everyday smoke. Unless you’ve got three hours of free time every day (and if you do, I’m jealous), this is a “special occasion” stick. It’s a commitment. But it’s a commitment that pays off. It’s widely regarded as one of the top-tier hand-rolled cigars coming out of Cuba for a reason. Even with the shortages of wrapper leaves that usually plague the bigger vitolas, Partagas seems to keep the quality on the Lusitania remarkably consistent.

Is it worth the wait? Absolutely. If you buy a box, don’t touch them for at least five years. I know that’s hard to hear, but these things need time to settle, to let those honey and almond notes really develop. When they’re young, they’re good; when they’re aged, they’re a top-five experience for any serious smoker. It’s a solid, heavy-duty cigar that represents the best of what the Vuelta Abajo tobacco can do.

By the time I put the nub in the ashtray, the wedding was over, my anniversary “dinner” was a success, and I felt like I’d actually accomplished something. It’s not just a cigar; it’s an afternoon well spent. If you find one, buy it. If you have one, wait. And when the time is right, make sure you’ve got a comfortable chair and nowhere else to be.

Final Thought: It’s a marathon of flavor that never gets boring. Just make sure your lighter is full and your schedule is empty.