Ramon Allones Gigantes

Description

I remember the salt air most of all. I was tucked away on a stretch of sand in the Grenadines—the kind of beach where the tide does most of the talking and the tourists are just a rumor from another life. I’d been there for three days, mostly just me, a tattered paperback, and a cooler that was running dangerously low on ice. Before I left the mainland, an old friend of mine, a guy who’s forgotten more about tobacco than I’ll ever know, pressed a cedar-lined tube into my hand. “Don’t light this until the sun starts thinking about quitting for the day,” he told me. “And make sure you’ve got nowhere else to be.”

He wasn’t kidding. That afternoon, as the shadows started stretching across the white sand like long, tired fingers, I pulled it out. It was a Ramón Allones Gigantes. Sitting there, watching the turquoise water turn a deep, moody purple, I realized this wasn’t going to be a quick twenty-minute puff. This was a two-hour conversation with a piece of history. I felt the weight of it in my hand—solid, substantial, and demanding respect. You don’t just smoke a cigar like this; you host it. I spent a good five minutes just looking at the thing, feeling the oily sheen of the wrapper against my thumb, before I even reached for my cutter. There’s a certain kind of peace that comes with knowing you’re about to lose yourself in a smoke for the next couple of hours. No phones, no deadlines, just the rhythm of the waves and the slow burn of a masterpiece.

The Transition: That smoke? The Ramón Allones Gigantes…

I’ve had my fair share of Double Coronas, but there’s something about the way the Gigantes sits in the mouth. It’s a Prominente, a vitola that feels like it belongs in the hand of a tycoon or a guy who’s just successfully navigated a ship through a storm. It’s big, yeah, but it’s elegant. It doesn’t have that clunky, oversized feel of the modern “Gordo” sticks that look like you’re smoking a flashlight. This is old-school Havana through and through. It’s the kind of cigar that reminds you why the Ramón Allones name has been around since 1845. I gotta say, staring at that iconic band against the backdrop of a secluded beach, I felt like I’d finally figured out the secret to a life well-lived.

Construction: The Feel of the Vuelta Abajo

When I first picked it up, the first thing I noticed was the wrapper. It wasn’t that dark, chocolatey color you see on some Maduros; it was a beautiful, reddish-brown Colorado shade, smooth as a river stone. There were a few veins, sure, but they were fine, like the maps on an old piece of parchment. I gave it a gentle squeeze—firm, but with just enough “give” to tell me it was packed perfectly. You ever get a Cuban that feels like a tent pole? Not this one. The rollers at the Partagás factory clearly knew what they were doing with this batch. They’ve been making these since the brand was moved there in the late 20s, and that expertise shows in the hand-feel.

I nipped the cap with my straight cutter, and the pre-light draw was exactly what I was hoping for. It wasn’t too loose, which is the death of a Double Corona, and it wasn’t like sucking through a straw filled with sand. It had a perfect, rhythmic resistance. I got hit with the scent of dry hay and a very crisp, clean cedar. It smelled like a well-maintained humidor in a room full of old books. I spent a moment just drawing that cold air through the leaves, tasting the raw potential of that Vuelta Abajo tobacco. It’s the gold standard for a reason, and even before I struck the match, I could tell this was going to be a clean, sophisticated experience.

Flavor Profile: A Three-Act Play

The First Third: The Opening Salvo

Lighting a 49-ring gauge cigar requires a bit of patience. I toasted the foot slowly, making sure every bit of that Cuban filler was glowing before I took my first real puff. The initial smoke was surprisingly gentle. I expected a punch to the gut, but instead, I got a hug. The first few minutes were dominated by a rich, stewed fruit sweetness—think dried plums or black cherries—wrapped in a layer of new leather. It was sophisticated. Then, the creaminess kicked in. It wasn’t a sugary cream; it was more like a heavy, unsweetened velvet that coated the palate. Mixed in there was a hint of dark chocolate, the bitter-sweet kind that stays with you. It was a solid start, very balanced, and it set a tone of “relaxed power.”

The Second Third: The Heart of the Matter

As I moved into the second third, the Gigantes started to show its true colors. The strength crept up from a mild-medium to a confident medium-full. This is where the complexity really started to shine. The fruitiness took a backseat, and these beautiful floral notes started dancing around. It’s a weird thing to say about a cigar, but it felt “bright” for a moment. That was quickly grounded by a distinct nuttiness—I’m talking macadamia and toasted walnuts. But the real surprise? Green tea. I know it sounds crazy, but there was this herbal, slightly tannic note that cut right through the richness of the leather and cream. It kept the palate fresh. Every puff felt different from the last, evolving just enough to keep me leaning in, trying to catch the next nuance. The ash was a beautiful, solid grey, holding on for nearly two inches before I finally tapped it off into the sand.

The Final Third: The Grand Finale

By the time I hit the final third, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the stars were starting to peek out. The cigar was warm but never hot—you gotta smoke these slowly, or they’ll turn on you. The flavor profile shifted again, becoming much more “spicy” in a baking-spice sort of way. Cinnamon was the star here, followed by a resurgent chocolate note and more of that green tea bitterness on the finish. It was a heavy, satisfying conclusion. The leather was still there, but it was darker now, more like an old armchair. I found myself nubbing it, holding it with my fingertips until I couldn’t hold it anymore. It never got harsh, never got muddy. It just slowly faded out, leaving me with a lingering taste of vanilla and a bit of white pepper. Solid. Truly solid.

Pairing: What to Drink with a Giant

Now, look, if you’re going to commit two hours to a Ramón Allones Gigantes, you need a drink that can go the distance with it. On that beach, I was sipping on a local dark rum—nothing too fancy, just something with enough sugar and oak to stand up to the medium-full body of the tobacco. The sweetness of a good Caribbean rum plays perfectly with those stewed fruit notes in the first third.

If you’re not a rum person, I’d point you toward a peated Scotch, but something subtle. You don’t want the smoke of the peat to drown out those delicate floral and green tea notes in the mid-section. A Highland Park or maybe a Balvenie would be a great shout. And if it’s earlier in the day? A heavy, French-pressed coffee. The oils in the coffee and the oils in the Cuban wrapper are basically cousins. They belong together. Just avoid anything too acidic; you want something round and smooth to match the texture of the smoke.

Conclusion: The Verdict

The Ramón Allones Gigantes is not a cigar for the impatient. It’s not a cigar for a quick break at work or a walk around the block. It’s a cigar for the moments when you want to stop time. In a world where everything is getting faster and smaller, there’s something deeply rebellious about sitting down with a 194 mm Prominente. It’s a throwback to an era when “luxury” meant time, not just price.

Is it the most powerful cigar in the world? No. Is it the flashiest? Definitely not. But it is incredibly consistent and deeply rewarding if you give it the attention it deserves. It’s got a history that survived nationalization in 1960 and the “rationalization” of the 70s for a reason. People keep coming back to it because it delivers a specific, high-level experience that feels earned. If you’ve got a couple of years to let these sit in your humidor, do it. They age like fine wine, and that bit of time only smooths out the edges and lets those cinnamon and chocolate notes sing. For me, that evening on the beach was one of the best smoking experiences I’ve had in years. The Gigantes didn’t just provide a smoke; it provided a memory. And at the end of the day, isn’t that why we do this?

Verdict: If you have the time, this is a must-have. It’s a masterclass in Cuban blending. Just make sure your schedule is clear and your chair is comfortable.