Partagas Serie D No. 5

Description

I remember the heavy silence of my father’s study more than I remember the conversations we had there. It was a room that smelled of old bindings, floor wax, and that faint, ghostly sweetness of tobacco that had long since settled into the curtains. A few years back, I had just closed a deal that felt like wrestling a bear in a phone booth—a win that finally put me on the map. I didn’t want a party. I didn’t want a crowd. I wanted to sit in that oversized leather wingback chair, the one that always made me feel like a kid playing dress-up, and I wanted to see what the old man was hiding in that desktop humidor.

I was curious, mostly. My father wasn’t a man of excess, but he had a nose for the genuine. I remember lifting the lid—the hiss of the humidified seal breaking was like a secret being whispered—and seeing a row of red bands. They weren’t the long, intimidating Churchill sizes you see in the movies. They were stout, rugged, and looked like they meant business. I picked one up, felt the oily sheen of the wrapper, and realized I’d found something that didn’t need two hours of my time to tell its story. I just needed forty-five minutes of quiet victory.

That smoke? The Partagas Serie D No. 5. It’s a cigar that doesn’t beg for your attention; it demands it from the second you strike the match. It was the perfect companion for a man who had just won a fight and wanted to savor the silence before the next one started.

The Specifications

Before I get into the weeds of how this thing actually performs when you’re sitting in a dark room reflecting on your life choices, let’s look at the vitals. This isn’t a long-distance runner; it’s a sprinter with heavy muscles.

Construction and Feel

When I hold a D No. 5, I’m always struck by how dense it feels. For a Petit Robusto, it’s got some serious heft. It doesn’t feel fragile or dainty. The wrapper is that classic Cuban Colorado shade—a sort of reddish-brown that looks like a well-worn leather saddle. There’s a bit of tooth to it, a rustic texture that tells you it was made by human hands in a factory that’s been doing this since 1845. Partagas isn’t about that polished, plastic-looking perfection you get from some New World sticks. It’s got character.

I gave it a gentle squeeze, and it was firm but had a slight give, like a properly aged steak. The pre-light draw is where the magic starts for me. You ever take a breath in a barn full of drying hay and old wood? That’s what I got. A little bit of chocolate, a hint of hazelnut, and that unmistakable “Cuban twang” that’s hard to describe but impossible to miss once you’ve had it. It’s earthy, slightly salty, and incredibly promising. The cap was applied cleanly—a solid triple cap that took my straight cut without a single flake of tobacco jumping ship. Solid construction is something I don’t take for granted, and Partagas usually delivers the goods here.

The First Third: The Awakening

Lighting this thing up in my father’s study felt like a rite of passage. I used a wooden match, letting the flame dance across the foot until it was glowing like a cherry. The first few puffs? They’re a wake-up call. You get a face full of cedar and leather right out of the gate. It’s not shy. But as the smoke settles, there’s this sweet, salty cocoa note that starts to creep in. It’s like a dark chocolate bar with sea salt.

The smoke production is thick. I mean, you could practically chew on it. It’s creamy and coats the palate, leaving a lingering taste of dark roasted coffee. I gotta say, for a cigar that’s relatively short, it packs a lot of flavor into those first ten minutes. It’s medium-to-full right from the start, but it’s smooth. It doesn’t bite your tongue; it just gives it a firm handshake.

The Second Third: The Sweet Spot

As I moved into the middle of the cigar, the intensity didn’t necessarily drop, but it shifted. The cedar stayed in the background, but the profile turned much creamier. I started picking up notes of vanilla and a bit of caramel. It’s a weirdly beautiful contrast to the heavy leather notes from the beginning. You ever have a piece of burnt toast with honey? It’s got that kind of vibe—toasty, charred, but with a sweetness that keeps it from being bitter.

There’s a mild spice here, too. It’s not a “pepper bomb” like some Nicaraguan sticks I’ve had, but it’s a smooth, refined spice—think nutmeg or a bit of cinnamon. The burn was mostly straight, maybe a little wavy, but nothing a quick touch-up couldn’t fix. The ash was a light grey and held on for a good inch before I decided to tap it off into my father’s heavy glass ashtray. The smoke remained cool, which is impressive for a shorter vitola. Sometimes these small ones get hot toward the middle, but the D5 stayed well-behaved.

The Final Third: The Heavy Hitter

By the time I got to the final third, I was feeling that “win” from earlier in the day. The nicotine was present but not overwhelming—just enough to make me sink a little deeper into that leather chair. The flavor profile shifted back toward the darker side. The coffee notes became more prominent, moving from a latte to a straight-up espresso. The cedar came back with a vengeance, and the finish was thick and creamy.

I noticed a bit of almond and honey peeking through the clouds of smoke toward the very end. It’s a complex little beast. Even when I got down to the nub—where most cigars start to taste like a campfire that’s been rained on—the D5 kept its composure. It stayed rich and savory until it was almost too hot to hold. I didn’t want to put it down. That’s the hallmark of a good cigar for me: when you’re looking at your burnt fingertips and considering whether you can get just one more puff out of it.

Pairing Recommendations

If you’re going to smoke something this rich, you need a drink that can stand up to it. In my father’s study, I went with a heavy pour of aged Cuban rum—Havana Club 7 Year. The sweetness of the rum plays perfectly with the salty cocoa and cedar of the Partagas. They’re like old friends who don’t need to talk to understand each other.

If you’re a coffee drinker, a double espresso is the way to go. The bitterness of the coffee brings out the caramel and vanilla notes in the middle third of the cigar. If you’re feeling a bit more “celebratory,” a peaty Scotch can work, but be careful—you don’t want the smoke of the whisky to drown out the subtle honey and nut notes of the tobacco. Personally? I’d stick with the rum or a very dark, rich coffee. Solid.

The Verdict

The Partagas Serie D No. 5 is a fascinating creature. It started its life as a 2008 Edición Limitada, and it was so popular that they had to make it a regular production item in 2011. I can see why. It’s the “busy man’s Robusto.” You get all the complexity and power of the legendary D4, but in a format that fits into a forty-five-minute window.

Is it for everyone? Maybe not. If you like light, airy, floral cigars, this is going to feel like a punch in the gut. But if you want something that feels substantial, something that tastes like the history of Havana and the dirt of the Vuelta Abajo, this is it. It’s got significant aging potential, too. If you can buy a box and tuck it away for a year or two, those flavors are only going to get more integrated and smoother. But honestly? It’s pretty damn good right off the shelf.

In the end, as I sat there in the fading light of that study, the D5 was exactly what I needed. It was a celebration in a small package. It didn’t overstay its welcome, and it left me feeling like the win I’d just secured was worth every bit of the struggle. If you’re looking for a short, intense, and deeply satisfying Cuban experience, you really can’t go wrong here. It’s a staple in my humidor now, and it should probably be in yours, too.

Final Thought: It’s a powerhouse in a small frame. Not a “starter” cigar, but a “finisher’s” cigar. Solid all the way through.