Posted: Jun 1, 2012 12:00pm ET
I wrote an editor’s note for the July/August issue of Cigar Aficionado wondering about the implication of a proposed regulation for New York City apartments that requires them to have a written smoking policy. Of course, it opens the door for smoke-free buildings, and I suggested, given the track record of Mayor Michael Bloomberg’s three terms in office, that it was only a matter of time before this “optional” written policy outlining a building’s rules would lead to an explicit indoor smoking ban in all apartment residences. That’s just the nature of the fight against tobacco today.
But I also warned that there is a slippery slope in these kinds of umbrella regulations. If a government feels like it can get away with telling you what you can and cannot do inside your own home, even if the activity is completely legal, then where does it stop? Too much ice cream in your freezer? Excessive purchases of red meat? Haven’t gone to the gym in two weeks? Shame on you, you are a public health risk. Here comes government telling you how to live.
Yes, you could accurately chastise me for using some hyperbole in trying to make a point. Well, guess what. Since I wrote that article, Mayor Bloomberg has proposed a plan to limit the size of soda and other sugary soft drinks that can be sold in the city. And, again, if you think it stops with commercial establishments like restaurants and delis, think again—it’s only a matter of time before you won’t be able to find a soda or soft drink container anywhere larger than 16 oz. sold in New York City.
Now, we can all agree that obesity is a national crisis, and soft drinks may be one of the contributing factors, especially in young children. And, we can all agree that eating too much fat, in any form, leads to health problems that are becoming epidemic in this country. We also can all agree, too, that smoking three packs of cigarettes a day leads to health problems that affect us all, a fact that has been widely accepted for more than 50 years.
Posted: Apr 9, 2012 12:00pm ET
Spring’s early glories were in full bloom under a crystal clear blue sky. The forsythias, dogwoods and cherry trees dotted the landscape with their yellows, pinks and whites, and the first tinges of green laced the canopy of trees with small, just emerging buds. But the vibrant hues of spring clashed with the solemn blacks and grays of the suits and dresses worn by the men and women waiting in line at the small Episcopal Church in the rural community north of Philadelphia.
What set this weekday morning apart from the normal memorial service or funeral was the sweet aroma of cigar smoke filling the parking lot and wafting across the somber line of mourners waiting to pay their respects. The cigar world had gathered to pay respects to one of their own, Manny Ferrero.
I write this blog not just to pay my respects to Manny—yes, he was a friend of mine—but about the world that he moved in, the world of cigars.
Suzanne Levin, the wife of Robert Levin, the owner of Holt’s and Ashton Cigar Distributors where Manny worked, spoke eloquently about the moment of his death, on the dance floor at the Tobacconist’s Association of America annual meeting, twirling his wife, Rosemary, around him in a joyous celebration. “They gathered,” she said, talking about the place, a luxurious resort on Cabo San Lucas, and then relating how they sat in a small chapel the next day recalling the life of one of their own, and how he had touched each of them with his humor, his love of life and his often characteristically blunt way of speaking.
Those words have stuck with me now since the funeral, spending a few hours at a lunch and a reception with Manny’s fellow cigar cohorts, and people from other parts of his life—his private social world, his colleagues from his former life as a Philadelphia policeman and friends from his community. But also in the crowd were people in the cigar business I have known for 20 years—manufacturers, retailers, distributors and competitors, all gathering to pay their respects.
Posted: Mar 28, 2012 12:00pm ET
If you’ve ever been to, or heard about the IPCPR, you know there are endless aisles packed with booths from cigarmakers, pipe dealers, humidor and accessory manufacturers and various sundries that are essential to the operation of tobacconists around the country. The trade show at the Festival de Habanos is a mere shadow of that scene, and in truth, is a showcase for various Cuban government enterprises and a smattering of foreign companies conducting business in Cuba. A generous guess would put the number of booths at 50.
It is housed in the Palacio de Convenciones, or PALCO as it known to attendees. There are two small levels of booths, the majority of which are filled with artisan goods—paintings, wood products, some jewelry and a seemingly endless array of antique items. If you dawdle, the trip through them might take an hour.
The unavoidable centerpiece is a grand booth from Habanos, filled each year with the cigars being released for the Festival and beautiful photographs of factories, fields and other cigar-related scenes. We shot a little video of the fair (see below).
The Festival’s real draw is the seminars and programs that are held throughout the week. There are tastings of cigars with various spirits. There is a “Habanos Sommelier of the Year” contest with entrants from around the world; a Mexican won the prize this year.
One of the best-attended events was the rolling seminar, run by Arnaldo Ovalles Brinones, the general director of the El Laguito factory where the majority of the big sizes of Cohiba cigars are made. More than 400 people packed the room with the requisite tobacco leaves to make a cigar. (Most were making cañonazos, or Siglo VI cigars, as the schedule promised, while we found others who were making more diminutive Siglo Is).
Unlike some seminars that I’ve seen where the amateur rollers are given a completed bunch and just asked to put the wrapper leaf on, the participants here started with stacks of leaves to make the blend, a binder leaf and a wrapper leaf. If you’ve ever tried to roll a cigar yourself, you can imagine the results, most of which look nothing like a handrolled cigar. But the crowd was completely enthralled and did their best to duplicate Sr. Ovaldo Brinones.
Posted: Mar 5, 2012 12:00pm ET
Riveting! No other word describes Habana Compas, the dance troupe clad in black jumpsuits, long hair swirling, lithe bodies gyrating and the pounding percussion from their drumsticks on the wooden chairs they carried pulsing through the 1000-plus attendees in tuxedos and suits and flowing long gowns.
The dance group, one of the featured performances at the Festival de Habanos closing dinner last Friday night, highlighted an evening celebrating the brand Romeo y Julieta. Instead of the black on gold decor of several recent gala dinners, the banquet hall was vividly outlined with snow-white floors, bright red walls and splashy silver cursive lettering of one of Cuba’s signature brands.
A who’s who of the Cuban cigar universe joined in the festivities. Alison Cooper of Imperial Tobacco, Fernando Dominguez of Altadis S.A. Habanos, Habanos co-presidents Buenaventura Jimenez Sanchez Canete and Jorge Luis Fernandez Maique and vice president Ana Lopez Garcia, one of the longest serving executives of Habanos, and Javier Terres, also a Habanos vice president, were all at the head tables.
There were Habanos distributors from around the world, including David Tang from the Asia-Pacific region, Max Gutmann from Mexico and Jemma Freeman of the U.K’s Hunters & Frankau (who also received the Habanos Business Award of the Year). There were also Casa del Habano shop owners such as Christoph Wolters from Germany and Ajay Patel from England. In fact, they were joined by Casas del Habanos owners and Habanos distributors from virtually every country or region around the world.
One of Cuba’s leading political figures, national assembly president Ricardo Alarcon, also attended the dinner, and he was joined by several government ministers. Hirochi Robaina, one of the country’s most celebrated cigar tobacco growers, also was there. And, the crowd was filled with plain old cigar lovers, from the United States, Mexico Canada, South America, Europe and the United Kingdom, the Middle East and the Far East.
Posted: Mar 2, 2012 12:00pm ET
I feel like some super-conductor magnet, attracting just about every loose cigar in a country overflowing with a lot of cigars. When I arrived, there was the question in my mind about where I would find my first Cuban smoke, and what it would be. My friend, Max Gutmann from Mexico, answered that worry with an Edmundo Dantes Conde 54, a beautiful cigar made especially for the Mexican market. Quite a way to kick off the week.
Then, I passed through the Casa del Habano in the Meliá Cohiba, and figured I had better buy some smokes so I didn’t run out over the next couple of days. I bought two Montecristo No. 2s and two Romeo y Julieta Churchill Tubos to keep me stocked up.
After those purchases, it seems everyone is worried about me having enough cigars. First, there were two special house cigars given to me by Osmany Rios and Carlos Robaina at the Quinta Avenida store. Haven’t smoked those yet. Then, when I got back to my room, there was a gift box of 10 Cohiba Magico Maduros. I’ve had those in my pocket for the last 24 hours, but something keeps getting in the way.
At the 520th Anniversary dinner where Jim Belushi sang the blues, I decided to tackle the Cuaba Bariay, a huge diadema size double figurado. It turned out to be one of the best Cuban cigars I have smoked. Then, I moved on towards the end of the evening to light up the Montecristo Edición Limitada 2012, a big 55 ring gauge that is just at the beginning of its life—it will be much better after a couple years of box age.
Thursday starting slowly, but as we hit the Casa del Habano owned by Enrique Mons, I was starting to hanker after a smoke. After all, it was almost 10:30 in the morning. Out came a Monsdale, a pigtail head cigar that is made there at the shop. That lasted until lunch with Ajay Patel, the owner of London’s only Casa del Habano. We got through lunch, and then out came a 1992 Partagás Lusitania—read my tasting notes in last year’s May-June issue of Cigar Aficionado’s Connoisseur’s Corner. He also handed an old 1992 Cohiba and a Partagás Serie C No. 1, neither of which I’ve smoked yet, because … I kept running into other cigars.
Posted: Mar 1, 2012 4:30pm ET
The sharp drum downbeat pounded out over the crowd, and the unmistakable chords of a Chicago blues song rattled the walls and shook the glasses on the tables. Jim Belushi, his Blues Brothers’ persona intact minus the hat and the dark sunglasses, but with a lit cigar between his fingers, wailed on his harmonica, belting out Little Walter’s She’s So Fine.
The central courtyard of the Museo de Bellas Artes, the setting for the 520th anniversary celebration of Columbus’s discovery of the Americas, was suddenly alive with the pulsing beat of an American blues standard. Within milliseconds, executives from Habanos S.A., the Cuban cigar monopoly, owners of Casa del Habano cigar shops worldwide and an army of cigar lovers from every corner of the globe were on their feet swaying to the music. They crowded around the stage, snapping pictures and shouting out encouragement.
Not once, but twice, Belushi asked the crowd if they wanted to hear one more, and each time, the crowd screamed “Yes!” Joined by Phil Manzanera of Roxy Music on guitar, Belushi, the Cuban cigar’s newest favorite fan, gave a great rendition of Let Me Love You Baby, a Buddy Guy tune; the crowd responded to the chorus in unison, especially when he tossed the word Cuba into the mix. Belushi ended the short set with a simple straight blues jam which he topped off with his trademark back flip.
The story behind Belushi’s performance began nearly 10 months ago when I asked my old friend if he’d be interested in being the international celebrity guest, officially hosted by Habanos, for the 2012 Festival de Habanos. We had talked several times over the years about arranging a trip for him on his own, but he jumped at the idea and immediately blocked out the dates on his calendar, even before an official invitation was issued. In short order, Habanos executives said they, too, were interested in having Jim attend the Festival. By early summer, the arrangements were being made and by the fall, the deal was done. Jim Belushi was going to Cuba.
Posted: Feb 29, 2012 4:30pm ET
He approached me with a smile, and a warm embrace. Enrique Mons, of the Casa del Habano at Club Habana in Miramar, looked like a man reborn after a lengthy bout with an illness. He was attending the morning seminars at the Festival de Habanos, which is taking place this week in Havana. He was walking around like a man in his domain, the world of Cuban cigars.
Mons said he was thinking about retiring, but used a term in Spanish that amounts to something more like a working retirement. He said he wanted to concentrate on the things now that really gave him enjoyment, like smoking cigars from all over the world.
“I say all the time that tobacco is tobacco. You have to smoke everything. I have respect for tobacco from everywhere,” he said, clearly drawing on his 50-plus years in the cigar business. “Each tobacco is different, and each has its own characteristics. But you have to try them all.”
He said one of his dreams is to visit Nicaragua and visit the tobacco farms there. We talked about the beauty of the tobacco lands there around Estelí and Jalapa, and he said he really wanted to see them first hand. I told him he would be pleasantly surprised by the beauty of the land, the richness of the soil, and by the tobacco.
Later, we stopped at the Casa del Habano at Calle 16 y 5 Ave, known by everyone as the Quinta Avenida shop. The shelves were packed with a great selection of cigars, everything from the three sizes of Behike (my favorite the Behike 52 for about $210) to Punch, Cohiba and all sizes of Montecristo. Carlos Robaina greeted us and said he had been signing copies of our November/December issue of Cigar Aficionado for customers from all over the world.
Robaina and the other prinicipal of the store, Osmany Rios, said sales had been brisk this week, with people wanting to try the great selection on the shop's shelves.
Posted: Feb 28, 2012 12:00am ET
The feeling is always the same, and it usually hits me at the same time. The plane leaves the dark greens and browns of the Florida Everglades, passes over the azure Florida Straits and then, on the horizon, a small brown strip appears—you know you’re headed back to Cuba.
The plane often zigzags across the straits—instructions I’ve been told from Cuban Air Traffic Control—and then, it crosses over the coastline, usually with the buildings of Havana out the right side of the airplane.
The feeling? It is a mélange of excitement, uncertainty, a little buzz in my gut. What causes it? Maybe it is knowing that things won’t be as they seem, or for that matter, for what they really are. But the familiar sensation means I am back in Cuba.
What do I expect on every visit? First of all, I look for that signature cigar, one that will mark my visit and provide the experience for all Cigar Aficionado readers to appreciate. Will there be any new releases from Habanos? Will the same people still be running it. Then, there are the questions about what new restaurants and clubs have opened up. And, then, finally, there’s the realization that I still have so much to learn about this place, the people here, and that I will never have enough time on this trip to accomplish everything I want to do.
I learned as a young journalist that feeling never goes away. A veteran foreign correspondent, an award winner for a major U.S. newspaper, met me for breakfast one morning on his first day in Mexico. He was almost in a state of high anxiety, the result he said, of “Not knowing what the hell I’m going to write, what I’m going to find, what I’m even going to do.” He peppered me, a resident correspondent, with questions about everything from the local gossip about the government to the weather.
A few weeks later I saw his dispatches—a wonderful kaleidoscope of snapshots of what was happening in Mexico. And I thought that part of what made his stories so wonderful was driven by his anxiety about getting under the surface, of finding out the real story, of relaying the reality of where he was and what he was doing.
Posted: Feb 17, 2012 12:00am ET
Fire pits. The words conjured up images of Burning Man weekends in the desert, or Jean Auel scenes from novels about prehistoric man’s travails. Sure, in concept, I could see how they might be alternatives to a fireside lounger in a wood-beamed lodge in the mountains. But as a place to enjoy a cigar? Well, I was dubious.
It was an unusually warm January night in Naples, Florida. I’d been participating in two days of editorial meetings with the Wine Spectator crew, and we had just returned to the La Playa Beach Resort after a wonderful, wine-soaked meal. Marvin Shanken and I walked into the bar at the hotel, and asked the waitress where we could sit down and have a late evening smoke. She said, “I’m sorry. You can’t smoke inside, but there’s the fire pit.”
Through the windows and the open door, you could see the flames leaping up from the ring of stones, surrounded by wooden lounge chairs. Marvin and I looked at each other, and said, "Sure, let’s go." I had brought some cigars from New York; I don’t even remember now what they were, although I do recall I had some fugitives from a just-completed Cigar Insider tasting in my leather traveling case.
We settled into the chairs, lit up and leaned back, the Florida night sky above us, and the sound of the soft Gulf of Mexico surf in the background. The waitress came and took our orders, and as the smoke drifted up, I waited on my glass of Bacardi 8 on the rocks. We chatted, but the moment was as much about being outside and relaxing after a long day as anything else. A few people came and sat around the pit too, and began talking to each other, strangers getting to know each other through those innocuous questions seeking common ground. We listened, but on another night, it was easy to imagine people coming and going, talking, laughing and smoking cigars, all in a pleasant, convivial cocoon.
Posted: Jan 9, 2012 2:55pm ET
I wanted my first cigar of 2012 to be special. The last three months of 2011 had involved a lot of work smoking—yes, people, the editors of Cigar Aficionado receive compensation for smoking cigars. For many of you, that describes a work situation that resembles Nirvana.
I’m not complaining either, but when your humidor is constantly filled with cigars bearing white-numbered bands, and you have no choice other than a decision to smoke #35, or #56, or #11, it does temper the absolute pleasure I associate with a great cigar-smoking moment.
So, when I have the chance to smoke purely for pleasure, I consider all the possibilities; the taste I want to enjoy, the size of cigar, the setting and the people I’m with. Until the elements and the stars are in perfect alignment, I can delay my immediate gratification.
The moment came right after New Year’s in Queretaro, Mexico. I was with my wife and daughter, a couple from New York who are our closest friends and our friends of more than 30 years who are helping us renovate a house in the city on Mexico’s central plateau, about two hours north of Mexico City.
My wife and I had spent the day mulling over tiles and wood floors, and imagining the finishing touches on some of the house’s freshly plastered walls. We ended up on a hotel’s rooftop bar shortly after sunset, still in shirtsleeves following a sunny, 75-degree January day.
The margaritas arrived with the salt gleaming around the edges of the glass. I knew the stars were aligned because the constellation Orion was right in front of me, just rising up over the tops of the many cathedral domes that dot the Queretaro skyline—the constellation is one that I associate closely with winters in Mexico.
My friend Matthew offered me a 2003 Cohiba Robusto that he had received from a diplomat friend of ours for his 60th birthday; I traded him a Edmundo Dantes Conde 54, the new Mexican Regional Edition.