Partagas Salomones

Description

I was sitting on the veranda of this little boutique resort tucked away on the coast of the Caribbean—the kind of place where the humidity feels like a warm hug and the salt air does things to your skin you didn’t know you needed. It was my fifteenth wedding anniversary. My wife was sitting across from me, looking radiant in the candlelight, and we’d just finished a dinner that consisted mostly of grilled lobster and far too much vintage rum. I felt a profound sense of pride. Not just because I’d managed to keep a beautiful woman interested in me for a decade and a half, but because of the life we’d carved out. I felt like I’d finally reached a point where I could slow down and actually taste the air.

I reached into my travel humidor, the leather worn soft from years of trips just like this one. I wasn’t looking for a quick smoke. I didn’t want something I could finish before the coffee got cold. I wanted a commitment. I pulled out a stick that looked more like a piece of heavy artillery than a cigar. It was thick, tapered at both ends, and had that dark, oily sheen that tells you it’s been waiting for a night exactly like this one.

That smoke? The Partagás Salomones. It’s a beast of a cigar, an LCDH (La Casa del Habano) exclusive that doesn’t just ask for your attention—it demands your entire evening. I’ve smoked a lot of things in my time, but there’s something about the weight of a Salomón in your hand that makes you feel like the king of your own private island.

The Specs

Before I get into how this thing actually treated me, let’s look at the numbers. This isn’t a cigar for the faint of heart or the short of time.

First Impressions & Construction

You ever look at a cigar and just wonder how the hell someone rolled it? The Salomón shape—that double perfecto with the tapered head and the nipple-like foot—is widely considered one of the hardest vitolas to master. I’ve heard stories about the torcedores at the Partagás factory in Havana; they don’t let just any rookie touch these. Only the most skilled hands get to work on the Salomones. When I held it there on the veranda, I could feel that craftsmanship. It was firm, no soft spots, but it had a slight “give” that told me the draw was going to be spot on.

The wrapper was a deep, chocolatey brown, typical of the high-quality leaves they pull from the Vuelta Abajo region. I gave it a sniff before I even thought about the cutter. I got a heavy hit of what I call “the farm”—that classic Cuban barnyard aroma, mixed with a bit of dry hay and a hint of baking spice. It smelled like old-world Cuba. It smelled like history. I clipped the head with a straight cut, just enough to get a good flow without losing that elegant taper. The pre-light draw was a bit tight, which is expected with a tapered foot, but the flavors were already popping: cocoa and a bit of cedar.

The First Third: The Slow Burn

Lighting a Salomón is a ritual in itself. You can’t just torch the end and go. You have to be patient with that little nipple foot. I used a single-jet flame to gently toast it, watching the foot glow as the cherry slowly expanded. The first few puffs are always a bit restricted until the burn reaches the widest part of the bulb, but man, those initial flavors were worth the wait.

Right out of the gate, I got hit with a blast of spice and cedar. It wasn’t an aggressive spice, more like a warm greeting. There’s a certain woodiness to Partagás that you don’t find anywhere else. It’s rugged but refined. As the burn line hit the 57 ring gauge, the smoke volume just exploded. Thick, creamy, white clouds started swirling around my head, mixing with the humid Caribbean breeze. I felt like I was finally settling into the night. My wife was telling a story about our first trip together, and the cigar was providing the perfect rhythm to the conversation.

The Second Third: The Heart of the Beast

About forty minutes in, the Partagás Salomones really started to show its true colors. The spice from the beginning didn’t disappear, but it took a backseat to a beautiful nuttiness. I’m talking rich cashew and a deep, dark espresso note. This is where the full-bodied nature of the cigar really starts to kick in. You can feel it in your chest—a solid, grounding strength that tells you this tobacco was aged properly.

I gotta say, the complexity here is something else. One puff would be all cream and nuts, and the next would give me a sharp tang of citrus or a bit of leather. It kept me on my toes. The construction remained flawless; I didn’t have to touch up the burn once, even with the sea breeze trying to mess with it. The ash was a light grey, holding on for nearly two inches before I finally decided to tap it off. I felt proud just watching it burn. It’s a “show-off” cigar, no doubt about it.

The Final Third: The Grand Finale

By the time I got to the final third, we’d been sitting there for over an hour and a half. The lobster was long gone, and I was on my second glass of rum. This is where a lot of big cigars start to get bitter or overly hot, but the Salomones stayed remarkably cool. The flavor profile shifted again, moving into a much darker territory. I started picking up heavy cocoa and a sweetness that reminded me of burnt caramel.

The intensity ramped up, too. The spice returned, but it was more of a black pepper kick now, mingling with that espresso base. It was a heavy-duty finish. I found myself slowing down even more, savoring every last bit of that Vuelta Abajo tobacco. I smoked it right down to the nub, until I could feel the heat on my fingertips. I didn’t want it to end. It felt like the perfect punctuation mark to a perfect day.

The Pairing

If you’re going to smoke a Partagás Salomones, don’t pair it with something weak. A light beer or a delicate white wine will get absolutely steamrolled by this cigar. I went with a heavy, aged Cuban rum—Havana Club 7 Year Old. The sweetness of the rum cut through the spice of the cigar beautifully. If you’re not a drinker, a double shot of espresso or a very dark roast coffee would be my go-to. You need something with enough backbone to stand up to that 57 ring gauge power.

Value and Usage

Now, let’s talk brass tacks. These aren’t cheap, and they aren’t easy to find. Being a La Casa del Habano exclusive means you’ve usually got to hunt for them or know a guy who knows a guy. They come in these gorgeous 10-count boxes, and if you find one, you buy it. You don’t ask questions.

Is it an everyday smoke? Absolutely not. Unless you’re retired and living on a porch in Havana, you probably don’t have two hours to dedicate to a cigar every afternoon. This is for the anniversaries, the promotions, the “I just survived a hell of a year” moments. It’s also a cigar that benefits immensely from age. The ones I was smoking had about two years on them, and they were singing. If you get a box, try to let them sleep for at least a year or three. It rounds off the edges and lets that caramel sweetness really develop.

The Verdict

I’ve had a lot of “big” experiences in my life, but smoking that Partagás Salomones on my anniversary is right up there. It’s a cigar that makes you feel the weight of tradition. From the history of the Partagás factory—which has been cranking out world-class sticks since 1845—to the revival of this specific 19th-century shape in 2008, you can taste the heritage in every puff.

It’s not a “smooth” smoke in the sense that it’s light or easy; it’s a “smooth” smoke because it’s balanced, complex, and incredibly well-made. It’s got the grit of a Partagás and the elegance of a Salomón. If you’re looking for a quick hit of nicotine, look elsewhere. But if you want a cigar that tells a story, that evolves as you smoke it, and that stays with you long after the ash is cold, this is the one.

Solid. That’s the only word for it. It was the highlight of my trip, and every time I see a Salomón now, I’m transported back to that veranda, the smell of the sea, and the feeling of a life well-lived. If you get the chance to grab one, don’t hesitate. Just make sure you’ve got a comfortable chair and nowhere else to be.

Final Thoughts: A heavyweight champion of the Cuban world. Rich, spicy, and deeply satisfying. It’s a masterpiece of rolling and a testament to why we smoke cigars in the first place.