Partagas Serie D No. 5

Description

Partagas Serie D No. 5 Review
I recall the heavy quiet of my father’s study more than I do our conversations inside it. It was a room that smelled of old bindings, floor wax and a faint, ghostly tobacco sweetness long since settled in the drapes. I had just a few years before signed the phone-booth deal of my life — it was like wrestling a bear in a phone booth! — a win at last myself noticed that put me on the map. I didn’t want a party.

Product Specifications

I didn’t want a crowd. Well, listen, I wanted to sit in that thing — that big chair, and you know what (it) made me feel like as a kid out here playing dress-up? … And I wanted to see what Godzilla was hiding in that desktop humidor.”
I was curious, mostly. My father wasn’t much for excess, but he could sniff out the real thing. I recall lifting the lid — there was that hiss as the humidified seal was broken, like a delicious secret being whispered in your ear — and finding a row of red bands.

They were not those long, terrifying Churchill sizes that you see in movies. They were strong and bristly, and they meant business. I grabbed one and felt the oily sheen of the wrapper and knew that here was something that didn’t require two hours of my time to tell its tale. I needed only forty-five minutes of shutting people up.

That smoke? The
Partagas Serie D No. 5
. It’s that cigar that doesn’t ask for your attention, it dictates attention from the moment you light it. It was the perfect accompaniment to a man who had just won a fight and wanted to savor the quiet before starting the next one.

The Specifications
But before I get into the weeds of what this thing actually does when you’re sitting in a dark room and contemplating your life choices, let’s check the vitals.

This is not a distance runner; it’s a sprinter packing solid muscle. Feature
Details
Vitola de Galera
D No. 5
Factory Shape
Petit Robusto
Wrapper/Binder/Filler
Vuelta Abajo, Cuba
Weight
10.34g
Construction and Feel
When I pick up a D No. 5, I’m always amazed by how heavy it feels.

It’s a real chunker for being a Petit Robusto. It doesn’t feel delicate or dainty. The wrapper is that classic Cuban Colorado shade—a reddish-brown akin to a well-worn leather saddle. There’s a little bit of tooth to it, a roughness that tells you this was made by human hands in a factory that has been doing so since 1845.

Partagas isn’t all about that shiny, plastic perfection you find on some new world smokes. It’s got character. I squeezed it gently, and it was firm but yielded just a bit, like a properly aged steak. For me everything starts at the pre-light draw.

Ever breathe in a barn filled with drying hay and weathered wood? That’s what I got. Some chocolate, some hazelnut and that signature “Cuban twang” (more on that later) everyone can identify if they’ve had it. It is earthy, a touch salty and very promising.

The cap was well done—a nice, well applied triple that I managed to cut straight off with not a fleck of loose tobacco. I stopped talking for a second and raced to catch up, dragging on the corona furiously as I listened while pulling rich smoke in my mouth – solid construction is not something I ever take for granted and Partagas mostly delivers here.

The First Third: The Awakening
Lighting this bad boy in my father’s study was an initiation.

I touched it off the end of a wooden match, running the flame across the foot until a cherry would glow. The first few puffs? They’re a wake-up call. At the outset you’re hit with a blast of cedar and leather.

It’s not shy. But as the smoke clears, there’s this sweet-salty cocoa thing that begins inching its way forward. They’re like a dark chocolate bar with sea salt. The smoke production is thick.

I mean, you could chew on the stuff. It’s creamy and it sits on the palate, tasting of roasted dark coffee for at least 5 minutes. I have to say, for a reasonably short cigar, those first ten minutes pack in a lot of flavor. It’s medium-to-full out of the gate, but it’s so smooth.

You are not biting your tongue; it is simply shaking hands. The Sweet Spot: The Second Third
When I got to the center of the cigar, it wasn’t that the strength subsided as much as it transformed.

The cedar remained in the background, but the profile became a lot creamier. I began to detect traces of vanilla and hints of caramel. It’s a beautifully off-putting counterpoint to the heavy leather notes at the opening. You ever eat a burnt slice of toast with honey?

It’s that sort of toasted, charred, but still with a sweetness so it isn’t briny. There’s also a slight spice here. It’s not a “pepper bomb,” like some Nicaraguan sticks I’ve had, but it’s a smooth spicy — think nutmeg or a dash of cinnamon. The burn was primarily even, perhaps slightly wavy, but an easy touch-up level of disturbance.

The ash was a light grey and it hung on for a good inch before I flicked it off into my father’s heavy glass ashtray. The smoke stayed somewhat cool for a smaller stockier vitola, which is always remarkable to me. Occasionally small ones tend to get hot in the middle, but the D5 behaved itself.

The Last Third: The Big Stick
But by my final third, I was feeling the effects of that “win” back early

.

The nicotine was there — but not so much it made me sink even farther into that leather chair. The flavor moved towards the dark side again. The coffee notes were pushed to the fore, from a latte now to straight-up espresso. The cedar returned with authority, and the finish was dense and creamy.

I detected a tiny amount of almond and honey toward the very finish, peeking out from the clouds of smoke. It’s a complex little beast. When I reached the nub — where for most cigars they would start to taste like a campfire that’s been rained on — the D5 still held together. It became richer and more savory by the time it was almost too hot to hold.

I didn’t want to put it down. That’s the sign of a good cigar to me: when you’re staring at your scorched fingertips and wondering if you can milk just one more hit out of it. Pairing Recommendations
If you’re going to smoke something as muscular as this, you want a drink that can match it.

I took mine in my father’s study with a generous pour of aged Cuban rum — Havana Club 7 Year. The sweetness from the rum works beautifully with the salty cocoa and cedar of the Partagas. They’re old friends who don’t have to talk in order to know and affirm each other. If you drink coffee, the choice is double espresso.

The middle third of the cigar is enhanced by the bitterness of the coffee highlighting the caramel and vanilla flavors.

If you’re in a slightly more, ahem, “celebratory” mood, peaty Scotch can also work — though tread lightly; the smoke of the whisky should gently sing to the subtle honey and nut notes of your tobacco (in other words, you don’t want that there to drown it). Personally? I’d go for the rum or a heavy, dark coffee. Solid.

The Verd