My best cigar ever

I’ve been smoking cigars at one time or another for 16 years. It’s only been since 2009 that I began to dive into the hobby with gusto. In the early days, having no clue what to smoke, I would walk into a random cigar shop and then fumble around in the humidor for 20 minutes in complete terror because of the sheer amount of choices. Most of the time I was too embarrassed to ask for help in making a selection and when I did ask, it was if the tobacconist was speaking greek. I would tell him I was new to the hobby and could he point me in the direction of something good. Most of the time back then I felt as if they were suggesting what was on sale. The rest of the time I picked up cigars based merely on the band, of course further cementing the case that branding works. Honestly, I couldn’t have told you the the difference between a Connecticut shade wrapper or a maduro wrapper. Light brown or dark, I just grabbed it. At the time I did not have a humidor at home so I was buying and then smoking right away. Often I would smoke them too fast, thus the cigar would get hot and my experience with it would be ruined. A practice that I now know better than to do.

I had always been one to hop from cigar to cigar, not settling on any one as my favorite. I have since found a few that I like that I would say are my “go to” sticks. Recently, I tried to think back to my first cigar and couldn’t. I have no idea what it was.  It was so long ago and I never thought to take note of it. So I then turned to my favorite memory with a cigar. I thought about my best cigar ever. It was easy. A Bolivar 2009 Edicion Limitada petit belicoso. Ah yes, the forbidden fruit, a Cuban! (a gift from a trusted friend) It was, in a word, “outstanding”. The reputation that cigars from Cuba have is well earned and that Bolivar was no exception. Right off the bat I was hit with a creamy sweet flavor. It was if the cigar was made of vanilla! It was smooth and the smoke was plentiful. I decided right then to smoke as slow as possible. The ash held on for a good inch and half, the burn was straight and never needed a re-light. I sat there in a wonderland of enjoyment. That cigar tasted like no other cigar before it, or since. It was that good. Since then I’ve smoked countless cigars, a cuban or two, most non-cubans. While I’ve had great stogies from then until now, none of them have compared to my first stick from the island south of Miami. How could they live up to it? My memory of that great moment is so etched in my mind, at times I feel as if I can still taste it.

I could wax nostalgic about it again and again, over and over. But I digress…

 As my knowledge of cigars grows so does my love for it. The mistique of it all still gets to me. I have never come across another one of those Bolivars and I suppose that I won’t ever again. After all, they say it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. I’ll take that deal.