You hold it and know—this isn’t a trinket, it’s a weapon of taste. Five thick robustos dressed in dark, oily corojo, heavy in the hand, rich enough to close out a night like a final act. Then five more, cut from the lower primings, bright with coffee and sweet spice, the kind of smoke you steal at midday when the world hasn’t beaten you down yet.
Ten cigars, one story of corojo in two chapters. $49.95 while they last.