The joy of hanging out in a cigar shop

[JohnS]

The following article, written for the on-line news site The Record, is a personal account of the simple joy of spending time at a Cigar Shop in Saratoga, New York from cigar enthusiast, Don Rittner.

The joy of hanging out in a cigar shop

By Don Rittner - PUBLISHED: November 15, 2025

Back in the ’60s and ’70s, I always had my go-to places.

There was The Boat (the Mayflower Restaurant in Troy), Cathy’s Waffle Shop, and the 8th Step Coffee House in Albany. Nowadays, I find my refuge at James & Son’s Tobaccanists in Saratoga.

In today’s fast-paced world, it feels like there are few spots left where you can actually take your time. With all the buzzing smartphones, flashing screens, and looming deadlines, life can feel overwhelming. But once you step into a cigar shop, all that noise just fades away. The air is filled with the rich scent of aged tobacco, and instead of stress, you find a relaxed buzz of conversation.

It’s not merely a place to smoke; it’s a sanctuary for camaraderie, ritual, and some quiet reflection. James & Sons is located in a former bank. I’m not really a smoker — I gave up cigarettes 30 years ago — but there’s just something special about enjoying a cigar.

As soon as you push open that heavy wooden door, the outside world starts to let go. Inside, shelves stacked with cigar boxes line the walls of the humidor, showcasing cigars like fine art, wrapped in beautiful shades of gold, chestnut, and deep mahogany. You can hear the faint hiss of a butane torch, the snip of a cutter, and feel the first curl of blue-gray smoke fill the air, setting the mood in the smoking room.

Unlike most modern hangouts, a cigar shop has its own laid-back rhythm. No one feels the need to hurry off. Conversations drift from politics to baseball, football, and family stories without any sense of urgency. Time seems to slow down, matching the leisurely burn of the cigar you hold. There’s an unspoken agreement among regulars that when you’re in this space, time doesn’t matter.

Smoking isn’t about finishing but truly experiencing it.

Cigars come with their own rituals. Picking one out is like an art form — checking out the wrapper, feeling its firmness, and inhaling the subtle scent of aged leaves. You might chat with the staff about your preferences, whether you like it mild or full-bodied (I prefer mild), Connecticut or Maduro, with hints of Nicaraguan spice or Dominican smoothness.

Then, the ritual continues with cutting, lighting, and that first draw. Each step is intentional and almost meditative. Honestly, I don’t know much about cigars, but I appreciate the process.

This whole ritual appeals to something deep within us, that human instinct to slow down and focus. In a world where everything is throwaway and instantaneous, a cigar teaches you patience. It offers a rewarding complexity of flavors that develop as you smoke: hints of cedar, coffee, cocoa, earthiness, or pepper. Each puff feels like a small achievement, and even if two cigars look similar, each has its own distinct character.

But maybe the best part of the cigar shop isn’t just the cigars themselves; it’s the amazing company you find there.

A cigar lounge brings together folks from all walks of life. Doctors, construction workers, teachers, lawyers, veterans, artists, and retirees share the same space, passing around cutters and lighters just as easily as they do stories. Whatever status people have outside melts away in the haze of smoke. What truly matters here is respect — for one another, the craft, and for those shared moments.

Inside a cigar shop, you actually engage in conversation — not the quick back-and-forth of social media, but real, thoughtful exchanges that meander through topics like a winding river. Someone might reminisce about a trip to Italy, while another offers advice about humidors or a new blend that just arrived. Debates can get heated, but they rarely turn hostile. There’s just something about savoring a cigar that makes it hard to be angry.

When you’re enjoying a Baccarat, it seems like you can’t shout; the smoke itself encourages civility.

Many cigar shops have an old-world vibe about them. You’ll find leather chairs that creak softly, a TV playing sports in the background, and décor that hints at mid-century America. Even the terms we use — like “torpedo,” “Churchill,” and “robusto” — carry a sense of tradition. Every puff is steeped in history. Cigars have been companions to writers, revolutionaries, and even presidents. They’ve been part of treaties, weddings, and victories.

Sitting in a cigar shop, you feel a connection to that legacy, that thread reaching back to the tobacco fields of Cuba and the Dominican Republic, to the skillful artisans who craft them as if they’re poetry in leaf form.

The regulars at a good shop get this. They might not openly discuss history, but they respect it in how they light up, the manners they show to newcomers, and the quiet pride they take when someone else appreciates the craft too. Over time, a sense of belonging develops, a fraternal bond without any formalities, tied together by smoke and mutual respect.

But not every visit has to be a social affair. Sometimes, it’s a perfect escape to sit quietly with your thoughts or even get some work done. I’m actually working on another Pine Bush book. The steady burn of a cigar provides a nice backdrop for reflection. You can ponder your day, your plans, your past, all without distractions.

A cigar gives you all the time you need; it’s there for as long as you want it. Many folks find that the act of smoking turns into a kind of meditation, a pause for the soul. For me, it’s also a moment to bond with my two sons.

Writers, thinkers, and dreamers have long sought out spaces like this. The cigar shop, with its low hum of conversation, offers that perfect mix of solitude and community. You can feel alone but not lonely, surrounded by people who, in their own way, are searching for the same peace.

Despite its vintage charm, the cigar shop thrives today because it meets a modern need for genuine human connection in an increasingly disconnected world. Regulars greet each other by name, swap cigar recommendations, and celebrate milestones together. Birthdays, retirements, even small work wins get toasted—not with champagne, but with a chosen cigar.

There’s laughter, there’s storytelling, and sometimes even a comfortable silence that can only happen among friends. Food often makes an appearance, too.

And, trust me, there are some interesting characters. I’ve met people from all over the world during track season and have stayed in touch with a few. I’m starting a history magazine with one of them and doing some archaeology work with another. Regulars are chemists, a lawyer who helps veterans, restaurant owners, and business owners, to name a few. It’s a wonderfully diverse and fascinating crowd.

The staff is friendly, remembers your name, and knows their cigars well. They prioritize service.

In a time when everything seems to be digital, the cigar shop stands as a proudly analog refuge. It’s a place where all your senses — sight, smell, touch, and taste — come alive. Here, conversations flow freely without interruption from notifications. Friendships are built the old-fashioned way: through time spent together and shared experiences.

Hanging out in a cigar shop reminds us of something that modern life often overlooks: the pure joy of slowing down.

It’s a space where smoke becomes a language of its own, where conversation lazily meanders like an ancient river, and where people from all walks of life share common ground in simple pleasures. The cigar itself is just the excuse; the real joy lies in everything that unfolds around it.

For an hour or two, the outside world can wait. Inside, time passes at the steady pace of a well-lit cigar — rich, serene, and unhurried.

Source: https://www.troyrecord.com/2025/11/15/rittner-the-joy-of-hanging-out-in-a-cigar-shop/

[El Presidente]

Excellent read