Ramon Allones Specially Selected

Description

The engine of the Sea Sprite gave a low, rhythmic thrum that I felt more in my teeth than in my ears. It was 4:45 AM, and the Atlantic was doing that thing where it looks like hammered lead—grey, heavy, and indifferent to whether you live or die. I was sitting on a plastic crate, a thermos of black coffee between my boots, watching the mist roll off the coast of Maine. It’s a lonely kind of cold out there, the kind that gets under your skin and starts reminding you of every mistake you’ve made since the second grade. I’d lost a good friend the week before, and the silence on the boat felt like it was taking up physical space. I needed something to anchor me. I needed something that tasted like the earth and felt like a solid piece of history in my hand.

I reached into my travel humidor and pulled out a stick that looked as rugged as the coastline. I didn’t want something delicate or floral. I wanted something with some grit. I wanted a smoke that could stand up to the salt air and the bitter dregs of my coffee. That smoke? The Ramón Allones Specially Selected. You ever have one of those moments where the world is falling apart, but the cigar in your hand is the only thing that feels correctly put together? That was me on that boat.

The Transition: The RASS

I’ve gone through a lot of boxes of these over the years. They call it the “RASS” for short, and if you’ve been around the humidor a few times, you know it’s got a reputation for being one of the beefiest Cubans on the market. It’s not trying to be a fancy, limited-edition showpiece. It’s a worker’s cigar, even if it’s gained a bit of a cult following among the high-society types lately. I clipped the cap with my teeth—don’t judge, my cutter was buried in my tackle box—and felt that familiar, dense resistance. This isn’t a light, airy smoke. It’s a commitment.

Construction: Built Like a Tank

Looking at the RASS in the dim, pre-dawn light, I noticed the wrapper was a dark, oily Colorado shade. It wasn’t perfectly smooth—there were some veins, a little toothiness—but that’s what I like about Ramón Allones. It looks handmade. It looks like someone actually rolled it in a factory in Havana rather than it being spat out by a machine. The feel in the hand is solid. There are no soft spots, no “squish” that suggests a lazy roll. It’s packed tight with that premium Cuban leaf.

The pre-light draw gave me exactly what I expected: a heavy dose of barnyard, damp earth, and a bit of dried hay. Some people hear “barnyard” and think I’m insulting the cigar. I’m not. If you know, you know. It’s that rich, fermented aroma that promises a deep, complex experience. It smelled like a rainy afternoon in the Pinar del Río. I toasted the foot with a cedar spill I’d tucked into my pocket, the flame flickering in the sea breeze, and let the first clouds of smoke drift into the fog.

Flavor Profile: The First Third

The first few puffs are always a wake-up call. While some Cubans start off creamy and polite, the Specially Selected comes out swinging. There’s a spice right at the front—not a stinging black pepper, but more of a warm, baking spice mixed with a heavy nuttiness. Think toasted walnuts and maybe a dash of nutmeg. I took a sip of my coffee, the steam hitting my face, and the combination was solid. The bitterness of the bean played perfectly with the sweet earthiness of the tobacco.

About an inch in, a chocolate note started to creep in. It wasn’t milk chocolate; it was more like a dusty cocoa powder. It balanced out the “barnyard” funk that stayed present in the background. The smoke output was thick and white, hanging in the damp air like a ghost. For a medium-to-full-bodied start, it felt surprisingly smooth on the retrohale, though I wouldn’t recommend pushing too much of it through your nose if you aren’t used to Cuban strength.

The Middle Stretch: The Second Third

By the time the boat was a few miles out, the RASS had settled into a groove. This is where the cigar really shows its character. The spice backed off just a hair, replaced by a deep, rich leather flavor. It’s the kind of taste that reminds you of an old library or a well-worn saddle. There’s a certain “roundness” to the flavor here. Everything is balanced. The earthiness intensified, becoming darker, like rich potting soil after a storm.

The construction held up beautifully against the wind. The ash was a mottled grey and stayed on for nearly two inches before I tapped it off into the Atlantic. I noticed a subtle sweetness—almost like a dark honey or molasses—that would pop up every few puffs. It’s a complex little beast. One minute you’re tasting charred cedar, and the next, you’re getting a hit of creamy espresso. It kept my mind off the melancholic fog and focused on the transition of flavors. I gotta say, for a cigar that’s been around since 1837, they haven’t lost the recipe for keeping things interesting.

The Bitter End: The Final Third

As the sun finally started to crack through the grey horizon, I reached the final third. This is where the “Specially Selected” earns its “Full Strength” badge. The flavors got much darker. The cocoa turned into a heavy espresso, and the spice returned with a vengeance. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was definitely present. The leather notes stayed strong, but they were joined by a charred wood flavor that felt very traditional, very “Old World.”

The heat didn’t get to be too much, even as I got down to the nub. Sometimes these shorter robustos can get “squishy” or bitter at the end, but this one stayed firm. The finish was long and earthy, staying on my palate long after I let the smoke out. It’s a rich finish, the kind that makes you want to just sit there and contemplate life for a while. I smoked it until my fingers were flirting with the cherry, not wanting to let go of the warmth or the distraction.

Pairing: What to Drink?

On the boat, I had black coffee, and honestly, it’s a top-tier pairing. The acidity and bitterness of the coffee cut through the oily richness of the Cuban tobacco perfectly. However, if I were sitting on my porch back home, I’d reach for a dark, aged rum—something like a Havana Club 7 or a Diplomático. You want something with enough sugar and body to stand up to the RASS’s strength. A peaty Scotch might be a bit much, as the smoke-on-smoke could mask some of those subtle chocolate notes, but a nice bourbon with a bit of caramel sweetness would be a home run.

History and Heritage

You can’t talk about the Ramón Allones Specially Selected without acknowledging where it comes from. This brand is one of the oldest in the game, second only to Por Larrañaga. Back in the day, they were the ones who pioneered the idea of decorating cigar boxes and using colorful lithography. They were innovators. But like anything old and good, it went through a rough patch. By the late 50s, the brand had almost faded away. It was considered a “local brand” for a long time, something only the locals in Havana really bothered with.

But then, people started realizing that the Specially Selected was consistently outperforming the “global” brands in terms of flavor and punch. It got a massive boost when it started showing up in Regional Editions, and when it hit the number two spot on those big “Cigar of the Year” lists a few years back, the secret was officially out. Now, it’s rolled at the Partagás factory, which explains that signature power and earthy profile. It’s a survivor, just like this old boat I was sitting on.

The Verdict

Is the Ramón Allones Specially Selected for everyone? Probably not. If you like light, Connecticut-shade cigars that taste like hay and sunshine, this is going to kick your teeth in. It’s a bold, spicy, and deeply earthy smoke that demands your attention. It’s not a “background” cigar you smoke while mowing the lawn. It’s a cigar you smoke when you’re thinking about things, or when you’re out on a boat trying to find some peace in the middle of a grey morning.

The value is there, too. For a Cuban robusto of this quality, it usually sits at a price point that’s more accessible than your Cohibas or your Montecristos, though prices are always a moving target these days. It’s a reliable, honest smoke. It doesn’t pretend to be something it’s not. It’s 50 ring gauges of pure Cuban heritage that’ll give you a solid hour of complexity.

As I tossed the nub into the wake of the Sea Sprite, I felt a little better. The melancholy hadn’t totally lifted, but the RASS had given me a moment of clarity. It’s a heavy hitter, a classic, and in my book, it’s one of the most consistent experiences you can get out of a Havana box. If you haven’t tried one, you’re missing out on a piece of history that still knows how to put up a fight.

Final Thought: Solid. Just plain solid.