The Slow Burn:Twists, Turns, and the Culebra Connection
There’s something about catching up with an old friend that feels a little like lighting a cigar you haven’t smoked in years…you remember why you loved it, but you also notice the new notes that only time could bring.
This friend’s world had recently been flipped upside down with some heavy medical news about his wife. The situation was still fresh, with more questions than answers. He and his family are like family to us. We met at church, bonded over life’s ups and downs, vacationed together, worked together, prayed for one another. Our lives are intertwined like a Culebra cigar.
If you’ve never seen one, the Culebra is a beautiful piece of cigar history. Back in the day, rollers were only allowed to take one cigar home per day. But one clever soul twisted three cigars together like a rope and called it one. “Culebra” means “serpent” in Spanish, and it’s as eye-catching as it is unique. To smoke one, you unwrap the ribbon, separate the three sticks, and enjoy each one individually….just as you should take life’s tangled moments apart and address them one at a time.
That was my plan, to help “lay the spaghetti out straight” for my buddy. We were going to work through the emotional, spiritual, and mental knots, see where the loose ends were, and find some strength in the middle of the mess. There’s a rhythm to these moments…finding the right stick, cutting, lighting, letting the smoke curl upward as you settle in. It’s not just about the cigar; it’s about preparing the space for whatever the conversation needs to be.
I arrived early at a cigar lounge I’d never really settled into before. The humidor had a solid mix: heritage staples, a few boutique surprises, some house blends for the budget-conscious. I circled it a few times before my eyes landed on something I’d only ever read about….a La Flor Dominicana Andalusian Bull. In the wild. Finally.
Ecuadoran Corojo wrapper. Known for its mix of spices, leather, and a touch of sweetness. Cigar Aficionado’s #1 Cigar of the Year. It’s the kind of stick that, for many, is a bucket-list burn. I grabbed it for $23 and paired it with a $6 Charter Oak Habano for later.
I settled into a corner with a perfect view of the room. Ten or so gentlemen sat in the middle, and before my first puff, I caught an earful of their conversation.
"Look, I don't talk sh!t about people, BUT…"
And there it was, the “BUT” that always means someone’s about to let it fly. What followed was a pile-on of negativity about a brand and its local rep. Not constructive criticism. Not even an honest recounting of experience. Just trash talk. And leading the charge? The owner of the lounge.
The first third of the Bull? Meh. Overhyped. But the second third finally opened up, more depth, more complexity. Still, it wasn’t enough to salvage the experience. The combination of a mid-tier smoke, a conversation dripping in gossip, and the weight of what I was about to walk into with my friend left me knowing I’d never come back to that lounge. Or smoke another Bull.
Because a cigar lounge should be a retreat. A refuge for camaraderie and brotherhood. This one? It was a den of deceit. If you can speak that openly, that venomously, about someone behind their back without shame…count me out. That’s the antithesis of Brolo.
When my friend arrived, the cigar became background noise. We talked about his wife, his kids, his faith, and his fears. We unwound the tight coils of uncertainty, the knotted anxieties, the what-ifs and how-longs. We took the Culebra of his life and straightened it…one conversation, one prayer, one moment at a time.
And that’s the thing. Cigars, like life, are better when shared with people who care about you, who lift you up instead of tearing others down. The leaf itself is just a plant….it’s the people who make it meaningful. And in that corner of a bad lounge, with an overrated cigar in hand (IMO), I was reminded why I started Brolo in the first place:
Not for hype.
Not for status.
Not for exclusivity.
For connection.
P.S. I told my buddy about my recent bull experience, not the sh!t, the Andalusian. He encouraged me to let it age…that it’s the perfect stick after it’s been well kept. Maybe I’ll give it some time and revisit the cigar and that lounge. After all, first impressions don’t always reveal an accurate depiction.
