Ramon Allones Gigantes

Description

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Ramón Allones Gigantes Review

What I remember most is the salt air. I was holed up on an island beach in the Grenadines — the kind of beach where the tide does most of the talking and the tourists are a rumor from another life. I’d been there for three days, mainly just me, a raggedy paperback and a cooler that was rapidly running out of ice. Before leaving the mainland, an old friend of mine — a chap who’s forgotten more about tobacco than I’ll ever learn — pressed a cedar-lined tube into my hand. “Don’t light this until the sun starts thinking about quitting for the day,” he said. “And be sure you have nothing else to do.

Product Specifications

He wasn’t kidding. One afternoon, as the shadows began to creep across the white sand like long, tired fingers, I took it out. It was a Ramón Allones Gigantes. Sitting there as I watched the turquoise water shift from a splash of color to porny deep purple, I realized this wasn’t a ready-for-a-quick-twenty-minute puff.

This was a two-hour chat with history. I sensed the heft of it in my palm: solid material, weighty enough to make its presence known and earn respect. You don’t smoke a cigar like this; you host it. I looked at the thing for a good 5mins, feeling that oily sheen of the wrapper against my thumb before I even reached for my cutter.

There’s a kind of peace to knowing that for the next few hours, you’re about to lose yourself in a smoke. No telephones, no deadlines, only the rhythmic pounds of the surf and the slow burn of a masterpiece. The Transition: That smoke? The Ramón Allones Gigantes.

I’ve smoked my share of Double Coronas, but there’s a way that the Gigantes sits in the mouth. It’s a Prominente, a size that you think should be dangling from the fingers of some tycoon or one of those men who just succeeded in steering the ship through the stormy seas. It’s big, sure, but it’s refined. And it doesn’t have that clunky, oversize feel of modern “Gordo” sticks that seem like you’re smoking a flashlight.

This is classic old-school Havana all the way. Because it’s that kind of cigar — the one that makes you understand why Ramón Allones has been on the market since 1. I’m gonna tell you, looking at that classic band under the light of a deserted beach, I felt like I’d finally unlocked the secret to living life good. Product Specifications: Ramón Allones Gigantes
Wrapper/Binder/Filler
100% Cuban Vuelta Abajo
Body
Medium-Full
Build: The Vuelta Abajo Feel

The packaging was the first thing I noticed when I got my hands on this for the first time.

It wasn’t that dark, chocolaty color you see on some Maduros; its reddish-brown Colorado shade was beautiful, smooth as a river stone. Sure, there were some veins; sure, they were fine — like the maps on some old piece of parchment. I applied firm yet gentle pressure to it, and it yielded just enough for me too know all that was packed inside but not so much that my fist hurt. Ever smoke a Cuban that seems to radiate tent pole?

Not this one. Clearly the rollers at the Partagás factory knew what they were doing with this one. They’ve been crafting these since the brand was relocated there in the late 20s, and that mastery comes through in your hands. I cut the cap of with my guillotine cutter, and it was perfect for me just where I wanted it.

It wasn’t too open, which is a mistake on the death of this vitola and it wasn’t like sucking through a straw packed with sand. It resistance was flawless and rhythmical. The smell blasted me in the face and it smelled of dry hay, creamy cedar. It was a rich scent of polished humidor in a room lined with old books.

I stood there for a moment pulling that cold air through the leaves and tasting the unformed potential of the Vuelta Abajo tobacco. It’s gold for a reason, and even before I struck the match, I could tell this was going to be a clean, elegant candle experience. Flavor Profile: A Three-Act Play
The Opening Salvo: The First Third

A 49-ring gauge cigar takes a few moments to get going.

I slowly toasted the foot, ensuring all that Cuban filler was lit before I took my first real puff. The first smoke was strangely mild. I thought it’d be a punch in the gut, but it was a hug. The first several minutes were a rich stewed fruit sweetness — think dried plums or black cherries, British style — wrapped in a period-style layer of new leather.

It was sophisticated. Then, the creaminess kicked in. And it wasn’t sugary cream; rather, like heavy, unsweetened velvet that clung to the palate. In there mixed was a little bit of dark chocolate, the bitter sweet kind that lingers.

It was a good beginning — solid, balanced — and it set a note of “relaxed power.”
The Second Third: Matter of the Heart

As I entered the second third, the Gigantes began to reveal itself.

The strength grew from mild-medium to solid medium-full. Here is where things got really complicated. The fruitiness got pushed down and the beautiful floral notes started dancing around. It’s a strange thing to say about a cigar, but for one moment it felt “bright.” It was just as swiftly put in its place by a different kind of nuttiness — macadamia and toasted walnuts.

But the real surprise? Green tea. I realize it probably sounds nuts, but there was this herby, slightly tannic element that all but sliced through the richness of the leather and cream. It kept the palate fresh.

Each puff was distinct from the last, shifting ever so slightly to keep me on edge, sniffing in search of the next nuance. The ash was fantastic as well and stayed on for close to 2″ before I tapped it off in the sand. The Last Third: The Big Finish

I reached the last third as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, and stars began to pop out.

It was warm the whole time but never hot — you gotta smoke these slowly, or they’ll chew your face off. The flavor profile changed yet again to one that was far more “spicy,” in a baking-spice kind of way.

Cinnamon was the standout, but there was a nice comeback note of chocolate that you may have been expecting after stopping at green tea bitterness on the finish. It was a weighty, satisfying ending. The leather was still present, but it was darker now, more worn like an old armchair. I started to nub it, gripped it just with my fingertips, until I could not hold on any longer.

It was never harsh, never muddy. It dissipated, like a slowly dying breeze, leaving me with the aftertaste of vanilla and some oh so subtle white pepper. Solid. Truly solid.

Pairing: What to Drink with a Giant

Now, if you are going to spend two hours with a Ramón Allones Gigantes, you want something that can keep up.

On that beach, I drank a local dark rum: nothing too froufrou, just some sugar and oak to match the medium-full body of the tobacco. The sweetness of a nice Caribbean rum is a great complement with those stewed fruit flavors in the first third.

If you’re not a rum person, I’d steer you to a peated Scotch, but something lithe. You don’t want the smoke of peat to smother those gentle floral and green tea notes on that mid-palate. A Highland Park or perhaps a Balvenie would be an excellent shout. And what if it’s early in the day?

A heavy, French-pressed coffee. The oils that are in the coffee and the oils that are in the Cuban wrapper, they’re kind of cousin essentially. They belong together. Just steer clear of anything too acidic and you’ll be fine; you don’t want anything to detract from that lovely roughness or shape in the same way, so you’re going round and smooth.

Conclusion: The Verdict

The Ramón Allones Gigantes is not for the hurried.

It’s not a lunchtime or after-dinner cigar. It’s a cigar for those occasions when you wish to halt time. In an age when everything is speeding up and shrinking, there’s something deliciously rebellious about sitting down to a 1 mm Prominente. It’s a throwback to a time when “luxury” was a measure of time, not just pricing.

The most powerful cigar in the world? No. Is it the flashiest? Definitely not.

But it’s incredibly consistent and also extremely rewarding if you pay the proper attention. It exists now for a reason, having outlasted nationalization in 1 and the “rationalization” of the ’70s. There’s a reason people keep coming back to it: It delivers a certain high-level experience that feels earned. If you have a few years to let these age in the humidor, go for it.

They age like fine wine, and that little bit of time only rounds off the edges and lets those cinnamon and chocolate notes sing. That night smoking on the beach was one of the finest smoking moments I’ve had in years, and one that quite perfectly created by an unexpected bud light. The Gigantes didn’t just offer a smoke; it offered a memory. And at the risk of sounding corny, isn’t that why we do all this?

Verdict:
If you can afford the time, this is a must.

It’s a Cuban-style blending masterclass. Just be sure to carve out time and have a comfortable chair ready.