Saint Luis Rey Regios

Description

I was on a balcony sixty stories above the grid of Manhattan, standing here at this particular elevation where yellow cabs appear no bigger than the product of plastic bits for a boardgame. It was my forty-fifth birthday, the first time after a decade that I felt like I’d actually won. I had just closed a deal that been eating my soul for eighteen months and the silence up there—absorbed by the glass, and sheer altitude— was the only gift I could of asked for. The wind was swirling around the corners of the penthouse, but I discovered a pocket of stillness near the outdoor heater. This is my tradition. I always find a place to quietly reflect on the miles I’ve put on my boots, no matter where I am in the world in that moment. Just because it is a special occasion, I’m not reaching for the flashiest stick in my humidor or even the most expensive. I reach for the one that seems right. The one appropriate for the weight of the moment.

Product Specifications

I dug into my travel case and pulled out something that’s not exactly on the tip of every casual smoker’s tongue, but for guys like me who have spent too many hours in some dusty discotheque it becomes part of the regular rotation. That smoke? The Saint Luis Rey Regios. It’s a Cuban that doesn’t have to shout. It just kind of sits there, a rustic, unprepossessing thing that bides its time until you understand how good it is. I snapped open the cap, felt the cold air against my face and struck a match. You know when everything just stops turning for an hour? This was it.

Construction: A Rustic Handshake

I must admit, the Regios isn’t out to win any beauty pageants. If you’re searching for a wrapper that’s silky smooth, like the blade of a silk tie, you might be dis­appointed. This thing is rustic. It’s got a chocolate-colored leaf that makes you think, huh, this one has seen some weather, with just a few obvious veins and little in the way of sheen to let you know all those oils are very much still alive within. It seemed to me, in my hand, solid — no soft spots, no lumps. Only a well-stuffed Hermoso No. 4. For those of you who don’t carry a vitola chart in your back pocket, that’s basically an half-inch-shorter, just-under-a-50-ring-gauge Corona. To me, it’s just the sweet spot for a mid-afternoon or early evening smoke. It’s not a commitment you’re going to have to spend three hours alone with or anything, but it’s thick enough you get this cool yeasty flavorful draw.

The triple- cap was placed on there with that good Cuban workmanship — not fancy, just functional. I cut mine straight and the pre-light draw was exactly what I wanted. It was not too loose, a risk with Habanos sometimes. It was the perfect amount of effort, like sucking a thick milkshake through a straw. I got some big notes of coffee beans and that heavy, toasted tobacco smell that makes me think of old libraries. Saint Luis Rey has a certain “old world” feel. The brand was founded in the 40s and up until recently, you could only get it over in the UK. It’s the air of exclusivity, except in this case it has nothing to do with price and everything to do with the fact that they’re just… well, different. They’re made at the Briones Montoto factory, where they also roll Romeo y Julieta, so you know the rollers knows their way around a leaf.

The First Third: The Awakening

When I finally lit the foot, however, the first few puffs were surprisingly punchy. I was expecting some mellow ones, but we (the Regios) woke them up right now. I got a big hit of dark honey and roasted coffee right off the bat. But the thing that really captured my attention was the gingerbread. It’s a unique taste — spicy, sweet and kind of bready. It was intermingled with the potent scent of cedar and more coffee. It was right at home in that New York penthouse, the smell of the smoke wafting into the city lights.

The burn was a line-straight burn. I didn’t find myself needing to touch it up at all, which is a win in my book. The ash was a little powdery, it held easily past the inch mark before I prematurely tapped it off. After maybe fifteen minutes or so, a leather note began to creep in and stabilize the sweeter honey flavors. It’s a middle-weight introduction, but you can sense that there’s some brawn as well. Is it “light” smoke by any means of the word? No, but it’s not trying to punch your goddamn teeth out, either. It’s balanced. Solid.

The Second Third: The Complexity Kicks In

When I directed the stick into midway, that’s when stuff started to happen. The honey’s sweetness began to recede in favor of some serious earthy notes. I mean cinnamon and nutmeg, that warm kitchen spice that makes you just want to sink deeper into your chair. But then, all of a sudden, I noticed some dark fruit notes. Think plums or black cherries. It’s an odd transition on paper, but in the smoke, it works. It adds that degree of complexity, so you don’t get bored.

The smoke meanwhile turned very creamy. You ever have one of those cigars, where the smoke just feels “thin”? This isn’t that. This is thick, velvety smoke that clings to the air and coats your palate. The heat remained present, but it wasn’t a “pepper” heat yet; it was more of a “baking spice” ambiance. I was sitting there, looking at the Chrysler Building, and I realized I hadn’t thought about that deal or my phone for 20 minutes. That’s the mark of a good cigar. It’s in-your-face without being obnoxious about it. The flavors were rich, leathery and unmistakably Cuban. There is a certain “funk” to Vuelta Abajo tobacco — a mineral, salty earthy quality — that seems impossible to replicate elsewhere. The Regios has it in spades.

The Final Third: The Great Finish

There was a little more strength kicked in by the time I made my way to the bottom third. We were solidly medium to full. The creaminess remained, but now it was being sliced through by a strong white pepper note on the retrohale. If you’re not accustomed to exhaling smoke through your nose, give it a rest here; the Regios packs quite a wallop at the close. The honey and coffee from the beginning returned, but darkened now, similar to burnt sugar and espresso.

I smoked it down to the nub and my fingers were getting hot. It never turned bitter or “hot,” even at the very end. In its city of origin, it remained cool and delicious as ever right to the end. It was about 75 minutes before I got through it, not bad for a five-inch cigar. I was calm and even a little buzzed from the nicotine, and so satisfied. It was the triumphant end of a triumphant day.

The Pairing

And now I was partying, so there was a glass of aged Ron Zacapa 23 in my hand. The rum sweetness — those notes of caramel and vanilla, the likes of them — are a natural to pair with the gingerbread and honey in the Saint Luis Rey. If you’re not a rum person, I’d recommend a creamy coffee that’s got lots of cream or an espresso. You’re looking for one that can hold its own against the earthy, spicy flavors of the cigar rather than overpower them. Would a peaty scotch be too much here; don’t want the smoke of the drink competing with the smoke in that cigar. Go with something sweetish or dark-roasted.

The Verdict

Is the Saint Luis Rey Regios the most well-known Cuban out there? No. Is it the prettiest? Definitely not. But it’s one of those cigars that rewards someone who scrambles for it. It has a history that’s kind of quirky, too: You won’t find the wheat it is distilled from anywhere else, certainly not in Poland, where this bottle is produced.But that flavor profile? It’s a connoisseur’s smoke. It’s for the guy who knows that often, under a rustic wrapper is the best tobacco.

If you’re in the market for a smoke that’s something medium-full, richly spicy and has an unusual dark fruit and gingerbread profile, look no further. It’s dependable, it’s well-made and it does at least have a bit of soul to make this birthday in a New York penthouse feel even more special. I’ll keep a box of these in my humidor for whatever the next victory is (or maybe just so I can recall what a real Cuban cigar is supposed to taste like). Solid. Absolutely solid.