rectifythis
CP; may cause dependency
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- Oct 24, 2006
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For those of you in Arizona with more disposable income than myself, the 4 Seasons hotel in Scottsdale is selling 1956 Partagas cubans. Included with your $500 price tag is 2 glasses of Remy Louis XIII. The link and quote below from the East Valley Trib.
LINK
"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar," Sigmund Freud is reputed to have said after a particularly relaxing smoke.
Maybe so, but would the father of psychoanalysis have struck the same level-headed tone if the stogie in question was 52 years old and cost, oh, roughly the same as a round-trip plane ticket to New York? To quote another prominent thinker: "schwing!"
To be sure, the 1956 Partagas is not "just" a cigar. It's also a delightfully infuriating status symbol and a marvel of preservation. And then there's the eye-popping price tag: $500 at the Four Seasons Resort Scottsdale at Troon North.
"I like to equate it to a perfectly preserved, classic sports car," Four Seasons food and beverage manager Bill Ellis says, fondly eyeing four of the precious cigars. "Except you light it on fire."
Nestled in a plush humidor - like sleeping children oblivious to their fiery fate - the cigars aren't particularly remarkable to look at. At least, not $500 remarkable. But looks hardly tell the whole story. Raised and rolled in Cuba, the cigars were grandfathered after the 1960 U.S. trade embargo of that tobacco-rich island nation. This makes them a rare commodity. And completely legal.
Described by Ellis as a "medium, mellow smoke" with a dense ash that keeps its shape until the very end, the Partagas cigars came to the Four Seasons by way of a well-regarded tobacco purveyor, complete with a rock-solid certification of their provenance. These aren't knockoffs, rolled at the Partagas plantation in the Dominican, but proven artifacts - mummies, in a sense, preserved in a humid environment neither too wet (which invites fungus) nor too dry (which leaches their flavor).
"That's what I like about cigars," Ellis offers. "Each one of them has a unique history."
Some histories are more colorful than others. According to cigar lore, President John F. Kennedy dispatched an aide to Cuba to procure 1,200 Petit H. Upmann cigars, his favorite brand, just before he signed the trade embargo into effect. One imagines that a handful of those Upmann cigars might have survived to the present day - sequestered in some dark, cool corner of Hyannis, Mass., perhaps.
One does not order, or smoke, a 1956 Partagas lightly, Ellis insists. Last year, the resort sold "about five" of the pricey cigars to well-heeled patrons, and all of them "knew their cigars." The $500 bill also includes two glasses of premium cognac. The cigar alone is $425.
Unfortunately, on this placid early summer evening in north Scottsdale, there aren't any cigar smokers in the lounge - and Ellis is reluctant to light up a Partagas for a mere journalist and his photographer.
"I'm afraid I'd have to answer for that in the morning," Ellis demurs, with all the apologetic grace he can muster.
So this is what it's like to feel cigar envy. Papa Freud would understand.
LINK
"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar," Sigmund Freud is reputed to have said after a particularly relaxing smoke.
Maybe so, but would the father of psychoanalysis have struck the same level-headed tone if the stogie in question was 52 years old and cost, oh, roughly the same as a round-trip plane ticket to New York? To quote another prominent thinker: "schwing!"
To be sure, the 1956 Partagas is not "just" a cigar. It's also a delightfully infuriating status symbol and a marvel of preservation. And then there's the eye-popping price tag: $500 at the Four Seasons Resort Scottsdale at Troon North.
"I like to equate it to a perfectly preserved, classic sports car," Four Seasons food and beverage manager Bill Ellis says, fondly eyeing four of the precious cigars. "Except you light it on fire."
Nestled in a plush humidor - like sleeping children oblivious to their fiery fate - the cigars aren't particularly remarkable to look at. At least, not $500 remarkable. But looks hardly tell the whole story. Raised and rolled in Cuba, the cigars were grandfathered after the 1960 U.S. trade embargo of that tobacco-rich island nation. This makes them a rare commodity. And completely legal.
Described by Ellis as a "medium, mellow smoke" with a dense ash that keeps its shape until the very end, the Partagas cigars came to the Four Seasons by way of a well-regarded tobacco purveyor, complete with a rock-solid certification of their provenance. These aren't knockoffs, rolled at the Partagas plantation in the Dominican, but proven artifacts - mummies, in a sense, preserved in a humid environment neither too wet (which invites fungus) nor too dry (which leaches their flavor).
"That's what I like about cigars," Ellis offers. "Each one of them has a unique history."
Some histories are more colorful than others. According to cigar lore, President John F. Kennedy dispatched an aide to Cuba to procure 1,200 Petit H. Upmann cigars, his favorite brand, just before he signed the trade embargo into effect. One imagines that a handful of those Upmann cigars might have survived to the present day - sequestered in some dark, cool corner of Hyannis, Mass., perhaps.
One does not order, or smoke, a 1956 Partagas lightly, Ellis insists. Last year, the resort sold "about five" of the pricey cigars to well-heeled patrons, and all of them "knew their cigars." The $500 bill also includes two glasses of premium cognac. The cigar alone is $425.
Unfortunately, on this placid early summer evening in north Scottsdale, there aren't any cigar smokers in the lounge - and Ellis is reluctant to light up a Partagas for a mere journalist and his photographer.
"I'm afraid I'd have to answer for that in the morning," Ellis demurs, with all the apologetic grace he can muster.
So this is what it's like to feel cigar envy. Papa Freud would understand.
