I turned 44 this year, so I don't consider myself old but I'm far from young. I'm reminded of my lack of youth on a daily basis, whether it's from looking in the mirror at my bumper crop of gray hairs or in the little reminders I hear from coworkers. One of them in particular (I'll keep him anonymous, but his last name rhymes with "Fittaker") enjoys reminding me that he was only eight years old when I started working for this magazine, more than 17 years ago. Funny guy.
An even more painful reminder of my fleeting youth came about a week ago, when I played in my annual football game. While I failed to shed blood on the gridiron (that was my friend Jim) and didn't need to be carried off the field (that dubious honor went to my buddy Tim), going head-to-head with a stronger, faster, 27-year-old player left me with a misaligned shoulder. Pass the Advil, and forgive me if I don't raise my arms above my head for awhile.
So my body isn't improving with age. But cigars certainly do. I'm reminded of this fact as I puff on a Davidoff No. 1, a gran panetela that was rolled in Cuba way back in 1986, the year I graduated from high school and went on to college.
Back in 1986, my hair was jet black, my knees were sound and I would have bounced back from that football game in about 15 minutes, rather than needing weeks of physical therapy. The years have taken a bit of a toll, you might say. But the Davidoff I'm smoking has fared quite well. The cigar burns absolutely perfect, and has developed notes of caramel, honey and almond, with exceptional balance. It was 7 1/2 inches long when I started, and I've just removed the band to keep on smoking. I'm not going to tell you the score—I'm saving that for the Connoisseur's Corner page in the February issue, which will be out in early January—but I think you can tell it will be quite high.
There's a vibrant market for aged cigars, especially ones that have been properly stored, as this one was. In a recent London auction, these smokes commanded more than $100 apiece.
Those prices are certainly not for everyone, but you don't need a fat bankroll to smoke aged cigars, you only need patience. I wish more cigarmakers dated their products, but I make a point to write the date on the back of every box of cigars I come across. When I find a particularly great one, I try to lay some down to see how they mature. Age won't make a bad cigar good, but it can make a good cigar great, and can turn a great cigar into a classic.
Try it yourself.
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