The art of handrolling cigars is one that’s easy to become blasé about. Once you’ve been around the cigar world for a while, you will get the privilege of seeing rollers quite regularly. While the travelling Havana expert roller itinerary, which used to see the best rollers from the city’s factories come over to regularly to showcase their talents in the UK, has been defunct for several years, if you’re lucky enough to hit the Cuban cigar shops, you’ll come across a roller soon enough.
There’s an old man who rolls cigars in a dilapidated barn on Hirochi Robaina’s finca. He’s now 83, and he’s been rolling cigars for more than half a century.
Cuba grows while you watch it. Everywhere you look, thick, green, verdant undergrowth; perhaps a rich slash of vermillion as a riot of flowers reaches for the sky. Tobacco is no different.
There are times in everybody’s calendar that world-weariness takes hold. It’s often around now, in the back-end of what has seemed an interminably long and grey-cloaked Winter.
The way cigars employs all the senses – including your sixth – is something to behold. Consider for a moment, how to select a cigar to smoke when the time is right. First, when you walk into the humidor, or open the lid, there’s that delicious waft of well-aged tobacco.
Named for the South American military man and lothario, Simon Bolivar, this mighty Cuban brand is rightfully a colossus among those who tend to reach for a strong, full-bodied cigar.
Are you a walk the dog sort of smoker – or a contemplative lounger, who prefers to be sitting down when he or she lights up We know we’ve discussed this in part before, but it’s worthy of a revisit at this time of year, for when it’s chilly and one fancies a handrolled special, optimum conditions may have to be compromised.
Sometimes perseverance is the key. There are times in this life that despite our previous efforts, despite our best intentions, despite every prayer, hope and faded dream – things don’t work out the way we wanted.
