A New Appreciation for the Art of Cigar Rolling
Until last week, the closest I'd been to the cigar rolling process was to see on-site demonstrations at cigar shops. Even then, I understood that it wasn't easy, and that the speed with which the rollers worked was the result of years invested in their chosen career. My appreciation for this activity multiplied, however, when I stepped onto the rolling floor at Pepin Garcia's My Father Cigars factory in Esteli, Nicaragua and saw what felt like endless rows of cigar rollers, each taking a specific piece of the process: filler and binder, wrapper and cap. They worked quickly and quietly, each completing hundreds of cigars a day.
To see the operation at work was impressive, but to feel it was totally different. Even trying something as seemingly simple as wrapping and capping a cigar, I learned just how much craftsmanship goes into what we cut, light and smoke.
The leaf for the wrapper is delicate. Every cigar smoker knows this, but when it's waiting to be wound around the binder, the tobacco feels downright flimsy. I worried, appropriately, that the slightest stupid move would tear it and force me to start over. As I sat in the seat belonging to Jaime Garcia, Pepin's son, to roll a cigar, I was a little nervous. So many people around me were making it look so easy, and I knew that the reality, for me at least, would be far different.
To wrap a cigar, you have to roll and pull simultaneously, keeping the wrapper taut – dangerously close to the point of tearing but without crossing that threshold. Slowly, I applied the leaf, which a pro had cut to the appropriate size for me. When I reached the top of the cigar, I stumbled a little but got some guidance on where to cut the wrapper. Capping the cigar wasn't too difficult (use lots of glue, the Garcias advise), but I didn't attempt the triple cap for which Pepin's cigars are known. That step requires a more extensive cut, and the leaf has to be wrapped around the top of the cigar, followed by a traditional cap.
I have to admit, I learned first-hand just how easy it is to screw up the wrapper: it took more than one attempt. Once I slipped my cigar into my pocket, I could only stare with wonder at the craftsmanship around me, realizing just why it takes six months of work to be promoted to that particular room of the My Father Cigars factory.
Below, you'll see the master at work.
I have to admit, I learned first-hand just how easy it is to screw up the wrapper: it took more than one attempt. Once I slipped my cigar into my pocket, I could only stare with wonder at the craftsmanship around me, realizing just why it takes six months of work to be promoted to that particular room of the My Father Cigars factory.
Below, you'll see the master at work.
