Trinidad Coloniales

Description

The smell of that 1956 Ford Thunderbird is as fresh in my mind today as it was then. It wasn’t just the old gasoline or the faint smell of wax, but also the red leather seats that for several hours had been steeped in the Havana sun. My amigo Miguel had spent three years resurrecting that car. Every nut and bolt, every piece of chrome trim, every stitch in the upholstery was a passion project. When he finally managed to kick over the engine and get it to run without sputtering, he didn’t just call me: He appeared at my door with the car still humming along in a soft, rhythmic growl that seemed more heartbeat than sound against the pavement.

“Get in,” he said, beaming like a child who had just gotten away with something. “We’re celebrating.”

I climbed into the passenger seat, feeling that old suspension give way ever so slightly to my weight. We began cruising toward the coast, wind slicing through the cabin and the breath of the ocean comingling with engine heat. Ten minutes or so into the drive Miguel pulled two cigars from his breast pocket. No cellophane, just that telltale pigtail-capped beauty I’d know anywhere. He handed one to me. It was a gift for the moment, an acknowledgment of shared triumph.

“Trinidad?” I inquired, turning it between my fingers.

“Coloniales,” he replied. “Keep the big ones for home. This is for the road.”

That smoke? The Trinidad Coloniales. It took a great drive and turned it into something I’ll probably never forget. I’ve smoked more than my fair share of cigars over the years, yet there is something about how a Trinidad holds itself – it doesn’t scream for your attention, but simply takes it. It was the right friend for a car with history and a longtime owner who’d finally pursued a dream.

The Specs: Trinidad Coloniales

Construction: The El Laguito Touch

I’ll tell you what, a Coloniales feels different than your run-of-the-mill Petit Corona, I canů pun intended.

It’s a little more meaty — that 44 ring gauge lends some heft to the hand without being overly weighty. It’s elegant. When I consider the construction, I see the lineage. You ever eye a cigar and just get the feeling that it came from someone who’s been rolling since they were basically still a teenager? That’s what you get here.

The wrapper on mine was a pretty Colorado-shade leaf—milk-chocolate in color, with a bit of red tint to it. It wasn’t oily, but it had this slick, matte feel that just felt luxurious. It’s the signature move for Trinidad, and the “pigtail” cap was swirled perfectly. I didn’t even want to clip it, but you gotta do what you gotta do. I gave myself a straight cut, just shaving off the very top to maintain that shoulder.

The pre-light draw was perfect. There have been Cubans where it feels like you are attempting to extract a milkshake through a pinhole, but these were open and breezy. I detected notes of dry hay, a little bit of floral sweetness and an unmistakable nuttiness I’ve also come to associate with the brand. It felt consistently firm — no softness, lumps or anything else. Just a properly rolled, handmade work of art from the Vuelta Abajo region. You can sense this stuff shares the same DNA as the early Cohibas too ‘ back when Trinidad was still the secret brand and only awarded as diplomatic gifts by el big man himself Castro. And although production shifted from the renowned El Laguito factory to Pinar del Río around 2004, in order to keep up with us thirsty smokers, they obviously stuck with tight quality control.

Flavor Profile: Traveling Through the Thirds

The First: The Nutty Greeting

Without it even touching the flame, I was hit with that old Trinidad aroma as soon as the foot caught._taboola.push( mode: ‘thumbnails-c’, container: ‘taboola-interstitial-gallery-thumbnails-10’, placement: ‘Interstitial Gallery Thumbnails 10’, target_type: ‘mix’ );_taboola.push( flush: true );Continue Reading

I didn’t let it touch the flame but saw (regurgitating smoker’s terms here) saw my first taste of smoke off and running.

It’s fragrant — almost like a perfume, but one that wants to make you eat the smoke. The first few puffs were all about that “rich, roasted macadamia nut”. It’s a particular taste: creamy and vaguely oily on the palate. I didn’t get a ton of spice, except for a low hum of white pepper tickling the back of my throat.

The smoke texture was thick. You ever smoke a cigar that just feels “thin” when it comes to the smoke? This isn’t that. It’s chewy. There is a slight herbal element that first started to show up maybe halfway through, perhaps some green tea or fresh cedar. It’s medium-bodied, for sure. It’s not that it kicks you in the teeth; it pulls up a chair and begins a conversation. I picked up a little hint of orange zest on the finish too, which kept things bright and interesting as I sat there in that Thunderbird watching the pall trees blur by me.

The Second Third:   Coffee and Leather

Halfway into the stick, its flavors began to turn just a little darker, like a sunset. The macadamia remained, but it was accompanied by a very distinct leathered coffee flavor. Not bitter like an espresso, not by a long shot, but something more along the lines of a creamy latte if those beans were just past their prime. So, this is where the “Coloniales” vitola really sings to me – the burn was perfect, razor-straight even; and the ash was a light grey that held on for almost an inch before I got nervous and tapped it.

There’s a floral note in the retrohale that is just beautiful. If you’re not retrohaling this cigar, you’re only getting half the story. That’s where the nutmeg and the walnut flavors are kept. It’s complicated, but it’s not confusing. Every flavor has its place. I suppose I was slowing down, lingering a little. You don’t rush a Trinidad. It’s a medium-strong experience, but with high flavor density. I was so busy thinking about how this blend had once been a dignitary’s preserve. I could see why. It’s sophisticated. It’s the sort of smoke that, even if you’re just wearing a t-shirt and jeans, makes you feel like you ought to have on a linen suit.

The last part: The earthy end

As we headed into the home turn, I’d say the wood and earth stepped up to the plate. A currently creamy first half gave way to a robust, woody profile with lots of cedar. But it never got harsh. And as the ring gauge heated up toward the nub, those flavors remained clean. I began getting a slightly heavier grip of that orange peel again, which was a pleasant surprise. It sliced through the weightier earth tones and prevented the palate from wearing out.

Everything came to a close with that walnut bitterness — you know, the good kind, as of the nut’s skin. It was a satisfying conclusion. I hit that baby until my fingers were heating up, and I still didn’t want to let go. It’s an even smoke from the first light to the last puff. No wild jumps and jolts that leave you scratching your head, just a consistent line of development from one source of top quality Cuban tobacco.

Pairing: What to Drink?

When I was in the car with Miguel it wasn’t like that, I didn’t have a drink in my hand — if I held onto anything it was for dear life while he took a corner. But if I were sitting on my patio, I’d have some ideas.

I am going with a light, aged Cuban rum. Kind of like a Havana Club 7. And the flourish of sweetness in the rum matches up wonderfully with the macadamia and coffee high notes of the Coloniales. If you don’t like spirits, a nice cup of black coffee — perhaps something in the middle, on the light to medium side? You are looking for something that supports the creaminess but doesn’t stomp on the floral and herbal nuance. I would avoid high peated scotch or big, tannic red wines. They are simply going to bully the cigar, and the Trinidad is far too polite to fight back.

Conclusion: The Verdict

So, are Trinidad Coloniales worth the hunt? I gotta say, yeah. It is.

It’s not the cheapest smoke in the History books, and since they killed off Roli T and Robusto Extra, has had to bear a lot of the brand’s Gravitational pull by itself.

But it does it with grace. It’s a “thinking man’s” cigar. It’s for times when you’re trying to celebrate something, anything — even if it’s just the fact that your friend’s aging car finally managed to sputter back to life.

It’s got that secret in the mix that the brand is famous for. It is elegant, it’s medium-bodied, and there’s something consistently well made about it. If you’re in the market for a monster that will make your head spin, look elsewhere. But if you’re looking for a fragrant, aromatic and deeply satisfying Cuban experience that might feel somewhat more “boutique” than your run-of-the-mill Montecristo or Romeo y Julieta, the Coloniales is your play.

Not when I see that yellow and gold band anyway – now, it’s not just the tobacco I think about. I think of red leather, the thunder of a V8 motor and the heat from the Cuban sun on my face. That’s what a good cigar does — it seizes a moment. And the Trinidad Coloniales is 100% on target with this technique.

Solid. Truly solid.