Lost Cuban Gems

Let us imagine opening the door to an old, humid humidor somewhere in Havana. The wood smells faintly of rum, the boxes creak as if ready to whisper their stories, and the air is so dense with smoke it seems to retain the conversations of those who once passed through.

If these cigars could speak, they would tell tales of presidents and revolutionaries, ageing bohemians and forgotten smoking clubs, perhaps even the odd pirate gazing out at the waves with a lit cigar in hand.

Here, in this shadowed corner of Havana, lie Cuban brands that once enjoyed remarkable success. So well known in their time that today they feel like old friends, lost somewhere along the way. Why did they disappear? History, after all, is not always smoke and mirrors. Politics, shifting markets and the quiet weight of time gradually consigned them to the shelves of memory.

What follows is an attempt to bring them back to life. With a touch of humour, a great deal of affection, and the particular nostalgia of those who understand that some things are not meant merely to be smoked, but remembered.

So let us step into this journey through time and rediscover the Cuban cigars that left behind smoke, myth, and a small but enduring legend.

Davidoff (1968–1991)

If the story of Davidoff were a film, it might well be titled From Havana with Love.

In 1967, Zino Davidoff, the consummate gentleman of the cigar world, received a phone call from Cubatabaco, Cuba’s state tobacco company.

The proposal was disarmingly simple.
“Shall we create a line of cigars bearing your name?”

And so, amid the atmosphere of the late 1960s, a legend was born.

The first cigars were rolled at El Laguito, Havana’s almost mythical factory, where the cigars smoked by Fidel Castro himself were produced, namely Cohiba. At the time, Cohiba was made exclusively for Castro and a small inner circle, long before it ever reached the wider market. If the walls of El Laguito could speak, they would smell of history, tobacco and perhaps a trace of revolutionary rum.

In 1968, the first cigars to carry the Davidoff name were released: No. 1, No. 2 and Ambassadrice. And, as so often happens when something proves truly successful, Swiss hands soon took notice. In 1970, Oettinger AG of Basel acquired the rights to the Davidoff brand, marking the beginning of its next chapter.

In 1977, the iconic Dom Pérignon appeared, alongside other so-called “mythical vintages”. Yes, the cigar famously took its name from the champagne, part of Davidoff’s deliberate dialogue with the world of fine wine. And those attending the upcoming FNL Iconic Cigar Dinner are in for a rare treat, with a Davidoff Château Margaux (1977) set to be enjoyed on the night.

In 1986, the Anniversario line was released, created to mark Zino Davidoff’s 80th birthday. It was a time when smoking was not merely a habit, but a way of life, and Davidoff had become one of its defining symbols.

But, as with any great story, conflict eventually followed. After prolonged disagreements over quality control and brand rights, Zino Davidoff and Cubatabaco decided to part ways. The defining moment came in August 1989, when Zino, in one of the most dramatic gestures in cigar history, ordered the destruction of more than 100,000 Cuban Davidoff cigars he deemed unworthy of his name. It was an uncompromising act, part principle, part theatre, and a statement that still resonates today. By 1991, the relationship with Cuba had ended for good. Cuban Davidoff cigars passed into history, like a fine old rum no longer produced.

The brand would go on to rebuild its future outside Cuba. Yet for romantics, the Davidoff cigars of Havana will always remain something special: cigars that carried the scent of elegance, revolution and just a hint of magic.

La Corona (1845–1999): Havana’s old aristocracy

If there were ever a cigar that walked with a cane, wore a white linen suit and addressed you as “my dear friend”, it would be La Corona.

One of the oldest pre-Revolution Cuban brands, La Corona was founded around 1845, at a time when Havana was often described as the Paris of the Caribbean, and the United States its most devoted customer.

Before the Revolution, La Corona enjoyed particular popularity in the American market. After the embargo, production continued in limited quantities, quietly and without fuss. It survived until around 1978, when it was discreetly withdrawn, in the manner of all good things that never felt the need to make noise.

But history, as we know, has a fondness for comebacks.

In 1989, the brand returned in a very different guise. La Corona was relaunched as a more “popular” incarnation of itself, an inexpensive, machine-made cigar, aimed at everyday consumption. These cigars were distributed primarily in the Soviet Union, Bulgaria, Hungary and more broadly across Eastern Europe. It was an odd but telling transformation, like seeing an old aristocrat make a guest appearance at a decidedly proletarian gathering.

This revival lasted until 1999, when La Corona was finally discontinued for good. Traditionally, the brand was known for producing mild-strength cigars, made with long filler tobacco from the legendary Vuelta Abajo, widely regarded as Cuba’s finest growing region.

Today, a non-Cuban version of La Corona still exists. But those who remember know that the true La Corona was something else entirely. A cigar that smelled of old Havana, quiet elegance and a faint sea breeze drifting in from the Malecón.

San Luis Rey (late 1980s–2000): the “gentle dynamite”

If any cigar brand could be described as quiet yet dangerously charming, it would be San Luis Rey.

One of Cuba’s post-revolution creations, it appeared in the late 1980s, a time when shirts were boldly coloured and the smoke still carried the allure of its era.

Its story is almost diplomatic in nature. At the time, the classic Saint Luis Rey brand could be exported only to the United Kingdom. To serve other markets, Cuba opted for a pragmatic solution and created San Luis Rey, a separate brand intended primarily for Germany and Switzerland.

German smokers embraced it, the Swiss followed suit, and today it is remembered with that particular nostalgia reserved for things quietly lost.

Production gradually declined, and in 2000 the brand was placed into the archives, not with fanfare, but in the gentle manner of a cigar slowly extinguishing in an ashtray.

Until 2002, a Long Panetela continued to circulate in Europe, manufactured within the EU but using 100 per cent Cuban tobacco, under the supervision of Habanos S.A. A small tribute to a brand that had slipped away.

Today, a non-Cuban version exists under the same name. But those who know understand the truth: the real San Luis Rey remained in Cuba, somewhere between humidors, rumours and the soft aroma of cocoa.

La Escepción (discontinued in the 1980s – ghostly returns in 2011 and 2015)

If there were a cigar that smelled of old Havana, Cuban elegance and a hint of mystery, it would be La Escepción. Born in the mid-19th century, at a time when men wore hats, women carried fans and tobacco was a way of life, La Escepción was among the pre-Revolution brands that helped establish Cuba as a paradise for cigar smokers. Often considered a sister brand to Hoyo de Monterrey, it carried a heavier, more assertive character. This was not a cigar for beginners. It was for those who wanted a cigar that met their gaze head-on. The Gran Gener and Longos were the stars of the era. The former imposing and declarative, the latter slender and refined, like a whispered plume of smoke over an evening coffee.

During the 1980s, production gradually declined, and in 1989 La Escepción was quietly laid to rest. It exited history with the discretion and manners of another age.

But like any legend worthy of the name, it returned briefly. In 2011 and again in 2015, La Escepción reappeared as limited Regional Editions for Italy, fleeting moments when the door to the past opened just long enough for a fragrant cloud of smoke to pass through before closing once more.

This is where one cannot help but recall, and how could one not, the remarkable La Escepción Selectos Finos enjoyed at last year’s FNL Iconic Dinner.

Today, a non-Cuban brand exists under the same name. But those who know understand the truth. The real La Escepción remained in Havana, where smoke is said to have a soul. And so, amid the shadows of an old humidor and the lingering scent left on one’s fingers, we have unearthed a few of the treasures of Cuban cigar history. Because these cigars, and those still waiting patiently on the shelves of time, are not simply discontinued products. They are small stories trapped within tobacco leaves. They are the memories of those who enjoyed them. They are moments that do not return.

If we could take one last walk through Havana, we might sit on an old balcony, open a box no longer in circulation, and let the smoke rise slowly, like a quiet salute to a bygone era. 

And perhaps we would whisper: You never truly left. You merely hid, waiting to be rediscovered. Because great cigars, like good stories, are never truly lost. They simply wait for the next person who remembers them.