Diplomático Rum: Honouring old-world craft while quietly plotting a little trouble in every pour.

Many rums are content to disappear beneath cola. Diplomático was crafted to be savoured, not concealed. This Venezuelan heavyweight belongs to that rarefied species of spirits that insists on a proper glass, a sliver of stillness, and preferably an audience willing to debate oak tannins and the politics of sugarcane. Ranked consistently among the world’s finest rums, Diplomático has built its reputation not just on a gleaming trophy cabinet but on an almost obsessive devotion to blending. If most rums swagger about like party crashers, Diplomático is the immaculately tailored guest leaning against the wall, sipping slowly, quietly aware that sooner or later everyone will want to know their name.

The secret, of course, is in the alchemy. Rum-making is often romanticised as a breezy Caribbean pursuit, but Diplomático approaches it with couture-level intensity: every stitch, cut, and seam refined until the final fabric drapes across the palate just so. It begins with Venezuelan sugarcane coaxed by the country’s sultry climate into yielding molasses lush enough to anchor the magic that follows. Fermentation isn’t hurried either - at least 24 hours of coaxing sugars into alcohol, a gestation that births the aromatic compounds responsible for Diplomático’s trademark perfume. This isn’t the slapdash spirit that ends up hidden under a mixer - it’s liquid conversation starter.

Distillation is where Diplomático flexes its eccentricity. Where most distilleries pledge loyalty to a single method, Diplomático refuses to be monogamous - juggling pot still, batch kettle, and column with equal finesse. Imagine calling in a jazz trio, a string quartet, and a full symphony to interpret the same piece of music.

One system might be enough for most, but Diplomático thrives on excess – pot still, batch kettle, and column, each lending its voice to the chorus. By the time this symphony meets oak - mostly ex-bourbon and ex-whiskey casks - the groundwork for greatness is already set. Ageing here isn’t about spreadsheets and checklists but patience, wood, and chemistry sketching layers of vanilla, spice, tobacco, and dried fruit.

And then comes the house obsession: blending. This is where Diplomático becomes less spirit producer, more magician. Their blenders shuffle and splice rums of varying ages and intensities like card sharps, with a signature profile always in mind. Consistency matters, yes, but so does resonance - the kind that seduces both seasoned rum fanatics and whisky loyalists who thought they’d sworn fealty elsewhere.

Presiding over it all is Don Juancho, Diplomático’s icon and patron saint of curious hedonism. Inspired by 19th-century Mantuanos - Venezuelan noblemen known for their diplomatic tact and obsessive collecting of exotic tastes - forv Don Juancho, amassing rums and spices was never about vanity – it was about the joy of sharing them across the table.

Call him the original influencer, long before hashtags and hard launches.

The kind of spirit that starts conversations…and finishes arguments.

All of this explains why Diplomático refuses to be relegated to the soda aisle. It’s not just rum - it’s a manifesto in liquid form, proof that sipping slowly can be the most decadent rebellion of all. Which brings us to Sydney’s Old Love’s - the quintessential den of irreverent hospitality that staged the intervention none of us knew we needed: The Cola Break Up.

Australians have long clung to the belief that rum and cola are star-crossed lovers - seven in ten, according to Old Love’s, still swear by the combo. Diplomático, naturally, disagrees. And frankly, it’s hard not to side with them. Why settle for syrupy codependency when you could have nuance, elegance, and a bit of cheek?

Old Love’s didn’t just serve drinks, they staged theatre. Four cocktails, each paired with a bite calibrated to echo or disrupt the rum’s profile, turned the evening into something closer to edible philosophy. Café Venezuela was a bittersweet duel of coffee and citrus that made cola seem hopelessly one-dimensional. Una Noche was the smooth-talking linen-shirt-at-dusk expression of tropical warmth and spice. Monte Exclusiva played the intellectual, nutty and savoury with enough complexity to hush the table. And Love Boat - fruity, bright, and flirtatious - transformed under its pairing from breezy fling to near-commitment material.

But what truly set it apart was the way Old Love’s treated each pairing as a story. Guests weren’t just drinking cocktails - they were circling their “rum rebound” on scorecards, speed-dating with Diplomático’s personality in different guises. Behind the playful veneer, though, lay serious craftsmanship. Old Love’s has long thrived on that tension - rock ‘n’ roll energy wrapped around precise, almost scholarly hospitality.

And that’s why this partnership mattered. Diplomático needed a venue that could embody its philosophy - half tradition, half mischief - and Old Love’s delivered. Their knack for making chaos feel curated elevated a tasting into a cultural statement: cola isn’t your soulmate, it’s just a bad habit you’re finally ready to ditch.

By the end of the night, glasses were empty but minds were recalibrated. Rum didn’t just survive its breakup - it walked away sharper, more seductive, and a lot more interesting. Exactly how Diplomático likes it.

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Words by AW.

Photo courtesy of Diplomático Rum.