Two blog entries in a single day, why not?Today was my 52nd birthday. To celebrate the event, to the extent that it deserved to be celebrated, I decided to smoke a cigar that somehow felt right for the moment. I had already removed the Cohíba from the humidor some days ago, and placed it into my traveldor, so I expected it to be in a perfect condition for smoking.
And indeed it was. The cigar was a joy to eyes: it is just as perfect a case of workmanship as one can hope to emerge from the El Laguito factory where Cohíbas are made. The roll density was uniform and firm, the wrapper seemed perfect, and the signature pigtail cap was just as cute as always. I almost felt sorry that I had to cut it.
The draw was just right, a bit resistive. After lighting, the cigar started its work in low key, but became alive after just a few puffs. I will not try to describe the sensations it launched: my mind was blown away, and I just sat and indulged. The aroma was discreet and intensive at the same time; dignified and sensual.
This CCE was dangerously close to being a perfect cigar. It gave me a good one hour cigar experience, spent in contemplation of the passage of time and life. For some reason, extremely good cigars often make me melancholy: perhaps it is triggered by the thought of how this small thing in my hands, made lovingly and with great skill by an unknown master of his or her art, is slowly turned to ash and a memory. Or is it just the extravagance, and ultimate uselessness, of the act? I don't know.
Ei kommentteja:
Lähetä kommentti