There’s an excitement running through Asia after dark – a sense that the bar is no longer an intermission between dinner and the dance floor, but the main event in its own right. In cities from Bangkok to Busan, bartenders are shouldering the same cultural weight once reserved for chefs, turning counters into stages and cocktails into storytelling. The result feels less like a trend and more like a recalibration of global taste: a region once cast as a diligent understudy now leading with effortless star power.
This is not a single scene; it’s a constellation. Tokyo’s austere devotion to craft now glints alongside Kuala Lumpur’s kinetic inventiveness; Guangzhou’s modernism sparkles against Hanoi’s irresistible warmth. The glare of international lists has helped, but the glow is homegrown – an alchemy of ingredients, hospitality, and narrative that’s unmistakably of Asia and increasingly, shaping what the world drinks next.
Why It’s Happening and Where It’s Headed
Part of Asia’s cocktail uprising is structural. A new wave of creative investment – accelerated by cross-border collaborations, cocktail weeks, and tourism that now plans trips around the itineraries of bars – has given bartenders the resources and runway to build distinct identities. Just as critically, the region’s culinary confidence has matured into cultural confidence. Drinks no longer “borrow” Asian flavours as novelty; they speak in a native register and invite the guest to listen closely.
Emma Sleight, Head of Content for The World’s 50 Best Bars, North America’s 50 Best Bars, Asia’s 50 Best Bars and The World’s Best Hotels, has spent the past few years watching this evolution up close. She captures, with a curator’s clarity, what makes Asia’s approach singular. “Asian bars stand out for their ability to weave rich cultural heritage into the fabric of their offerings,” she tells BurdaLuxury, noting how regionally sourced ingredients and locally anchored menus become living archives of place. “Hospitality in Asia is another defining factor… it’s about creating meaningful connections with guests,” she adds, invoking Japan’s omotenashi and the sincere welcome found across Southeast Asia as a baseline, not a flourish. This fusion of deep-rooted story and wholehearted service has made the experience “immersive and unforgettable,” she argues – and increasingly, impossible to ignore.
This shift in definition undergirds the momentum in cities beyond the usual titans. “The result is a vibrant, dynamic drinks scene that continues to push boundaries and attract global recognition,” Sleight notes.
The Protagonists
Every movement needs protagonists – those whose names become metonyms for the places they serve and the scenes they anchor. In Asia today, bartender profiles reads like a roll call of creative directors, culinary thinkers, and cultural translators.
In Hong Kong, Gerald Li, entrepreneur and co-founder of Leading Nation Hospitality, describes the shift bluntly. The region, he says, is finally giving its “main or key person” a proper coronation. “The term mixologist is no longer relevant,” he explains to BurdaLuxury. There’s no condescension in that statement – only a recalibration of who drives the experience. “They are the star of their own show now, not a supporting act of the chef or restaurant,” he adds, pointing to figures like Lorenzo Antinori (Bar Leone) and Jay Khan (Coa), whose bars and cult followings have helped pave the way. That star-making machinery is not accidental: Li credits talented expat bartenders who laid down roots and trained a generation of local talent, and he underscores how creativity now extends far beyond what’s in the glass – into culinary concepts, full-room storytelling, and bars literally built around a bartender’s creativity.
That full-spectrum authorship is as visible in the quiet concentration of Tokyo as the high-gloss verve of Bangkok. At The Westin Yokohama’s Code Bar, assistant manager Yuichi Shirao describes Japanese bartending as an “art of spirituality,” a philosophy that merges the precision of tea ceremony with the beauty of kado into modern service. He points to ichigo-ichie – the unrepeatable nature of a single encounter – as a guided principle, and to the Japanese aesthetics of ma and yohaku as anchors for restraint. In practice, it means each gesture – wiping a glass, cutting ice, shaking a shaker – becomes part of an intentional choreography whose purpose is to deliver not just a drink, but an experience composed across the five senses.
Across the South China Sea, Indonesia’s capital has a different kind of magnetism – one defined by play and pace. Indra Kantono of Singapore’s Jigger & Pony Group, which recently opened Cosmo Pony in Jakarta, frames it as conviviality above all. The bar’s signature Tequila Cosmo swaps vodka for the spirit Jakarta loves and cranberry for roselle, a local ingredient with similar tartness but a bolder hue, because it mirrors the city’s “chaotic energy” and taste. For Kantono, hospitality is the throughline. “Whether you are new to Asia or a long-time cocktail enthusiast, we welcome all with big smiles and energy,” he says. The drink might be clever; the connection is the point.
Kuala Lumpur, too, is being defined by its auteurs. Four Seasons Hotel Kuala Lumpur’s Bar Trigona’s Rohan Matmary talks about the city’s “dual heritage,” where locally trained bartenders and those shaped abroad converge in a single ecosystem. The result is not homogeneity but an uncommon scope – an audience that chooses bars by mood and intent, not mere trend. It’s a city where a week’s worth of guest shifts and festivals is a curriculum. “These encounters… open doors to meaningful conversations, fresh perspectives, and new standards to aspire to,” Matmary says, and it’s precisely that porous, networked culture that keeps the scene self-renewing.
And then there are the standard-bearers whose rooms have become shorthand for their cities. Bangkok’s BKK Social Club, located at the Four Seasons Hotel Bangkok on the Chaophraya River, led by Philip Bischoff, champions a distinctly Asian kind of attentiveness: the ritual of remembering, the personalisation that feels less performative than genuinely present. Bischoff ties Asia’s edge not just to hospitality, but to the region’s pantry – pandan, lemongrass, tamarind, teas, spices – and to a culinary approach that borrows the kitchen’s techniques (fermentation, smoking, aging) in service of texture and depth. “Put all of that together – the warmth of the welcome, the depth of the ingredients, the speed of innovation – and you’ve got a cocktail culture that feels alive, constantly changing, and deeply connected to its roots,” he says.
The Map: Cities and Regions in Full Bloom
What’s most intoxicating about Asia today is the sheer number of epicentres – and how distinct they can be.
Bangkok’s status as a “must-visit” destination is now affirmed nightly. It’s not just about marquee rooms; it’s the cross-pollination Bischoff describes, where bartenders spend their nights off in one another’s bars, a tipping point for continuous improvement. Seoul is, by most measures, beyond ascendent . What’s newly thrilling is the spillover: a coastal Busan tasting like salt and vinyl, Jeonju’s no-menu bars distilling mood, Gyeongju’s historical gravitas refracted in modern glassware. Each is an argument for a national identity that can hold multitudes.
Kuala Lumpur’s rise has proved durable, too. It’s not merely an awards story; it’s a community one, where KL Cocktail Week and a calendar of guest shifts have made the city feel like a residents-only residency – every week, a new set, a new insight, a new technique absorbed and made one’s own. The effect is a loop of excellence: inspired bartenders retaining their ambition locally because the world comes to them.
Vietnam is closing the gap with astonishing speed. From Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh City, a bar lattice has formed across luxury lounges, inventive speakeasies, and clubs with range. “Vietnam’s bar scene has rapidly evolved from a hidden gem into one of Asia’s most exciting nightlife destinations,” says Kevin Danet of Sofitel Legend Metropole Hanoi’s Angelina, noting that the country’s combination of youthful ambition and hospitality warmth is an accelerant. Pho-inspired infusions and Vietnamese gin aren’t novelties; they’re modern expressions of an existing vocabulary. Affordability is a secret weapon: world-class experiences at prices many regional capitals can’t match, making loyalty – and experimentation – part of the everyday.
China’s next act is also widening beyond its giants. In Kunming, SUMA’s Frankie Zou sees cities like Wuhan, Changsha, and Chengdu adding gravity to the country’s bar map precisely because they allow more creative freedom and lower operating pressures. Here, biodiversity is an omnipresent muse; Yunnan’s pantry of pu’er, wild truffle, golden berries, and sawtooth coriander is not just ingredient but identity. As Zou frames it, Chinese guests return from award-winning bars abroad “wanting something world-class that still speaks to their own culture,” while international guests get a primer in terroir. The middle-tier city becomes a first-tier experience.
Japan remains sui generis. Its capital and beyond show the coexistence of opposites: a renewed global appetite for creative cocktails alongside a domestic reverence for classics that is unshakable. As Royal Bar at Palace Hotel Tokyo’s Manabu Ohtake observes, martinis never left; they endured. Post-pandemic, however, trends like low- and no-alcohol drinking have been absorbed even here, and inbound travel has helped bars thrive anew. In Osaka, Norihoko Furuse points to “hyper-localisation” as a durable current: cocktails as vehicles for regional stories, whether or not those stories are native to the bar’s own address, a philosophy that explains why a Hong Kong bar like COA can celebrate Mexico with sincerity and success.
And in South Asia, India’s cosmopolitan pulse is reframing the bar as a social emblem. In Mumbai, Four Seasons Hotel Mumbai’s Director of Food and Beverage, Noel Mendes, sees AER as more than a view: it’s a “stage in the sky,” where curated music, signature cocktails, and sunsets become a single narrative. The city’s youth, he notes, aren’t drinking “just to drink” – they’re collecting experiences that confer both personal pleasure and social currency. Mindful drinking is a piece of that posture, with low-ABV and no-ABV options on the menu.
Beyond these hubs, Southeast Asia continues to reveal depth. In Singapore, Nutmeg Collective’s Colin Chia taps a maturation curve: the market’s appetite now spans intimate, bespoke rooms and kinetic, experience-led spaces, with guests demanding quality across service, story, and sip. In Malaysia, a “glow-up era” is how AVAI at W Kuala Lumpur describes the present – concept-forward openings rooted in folklore, heritage, and technique, with Penang joining KL in attracting some of the region’s most ambitious liquid talent. In Bali and across Indonesia, The St. Regis Bali’s Giovanni Catania maps a future of experiential, research-driven menus: turmeric, tamarind, pandan, and forest herbs reimagined with clarified juices and botanical distillates, zero-waste philosophy as method, not marketing.
“We work closely with local farms and fruit stalls in Taichung, ensuring our ingredients are fresh, seasonal, and sourced with minimal transportation impact,” explains a rep from Vender Bar. “In our cocktail programme, we focus on maximising the use of each ingredient – from techniques like super juice, which extends the life and flavour of citrus, to incorporating garnishes, infusions, and house-made components that reduce waste and highlight the full potential of Southeast Asian produce.”
Even Nepal, often outside typical regional roundups, is speaking clearly. At Barc in Kathmandu, founder Abhishek’s Tuladhar’s Orange Sandeko – vodka washed in spiced curd and sesame, finished with a burnt sesame tuile – reads like a postcard from winter: a drink that tastes like a tradition of curd, spice, and citrus eaten in the sun. Here, collaboration with chefs, artists, and mixologists is not a trendline but a truth, and authenticity is not an aspiration but a baseline.
What Sets Asia Apart
The most obvious separation is sensory. Asia’s pantry is heroic. Pandan, lemongrass, turmeric, tamarind, osmanthus, pu’er, makgeolli, shochu, arak, baiju – these are not just ingredients but lexicons, enabling flavours to carry not only taste but time and place. In Guangzhou, Hope & Sesame articulates this perfectly: a bar can be a cultural ambassador when it infuses spirits with local dishes and spices, when a menu is built as a map. However, there are some challenges when it comes to global visibility for up-and-coming destinations like Guangzhou. “While many Asian countries like Singapore and Japan are well-known, bars in emerging markets such as Guangzhou, Changsha, or Chengdu, often struggle with international recognition due to limited global travellers,” says a rep. “To overcome this, many of us collaborate with global brands, travel a lot to other countries for guest bartending events and festivals, and leverage social media to showcase our work.”
At Bar Sanyou in China, the devotion to Chinese spirits and ingredients – sticky rice wine, fermented teas – moves the needle beyond “Asian-accented” into “Asian-authored,” a meaningful distinction that carries through the glass.
The second separation is service – less “service” as transaction than hospitality as ritual. Asian attentiveness has long been celebrated in dining rooms; at the bar, it sheds starch and becomes intimacy. “Guests here will tell you they feel truly looked after,” says Bischoff, noting how personalisation and memory shape not just what’s poured, but how it’s presented and received.
Emma Sleight says that, “Today’s best bars go beyond just creating great drinks,” she says, pointing to venues like Singapore’s Native and Hong Kong’s Penicillin as benchmarks for zero-waste innovation that coexists with excellence. This is not puritanism but precision: an insistence that the story must be meaningful as well as memorable, and that how a drink is made – waste avoided, communities supported, cultures represented – is as much a signature as what it tastes like.
A third separation is structural and stylistic. In Asia, the culinary brain is in the barroom. Quinary in Hong Kong, early to integrate lab equipment into mixology, still captures this with the Earl Grey Caviar Martini – a five-sense manifesto whose foam, aroma, “caviar” pop, and visual drama wear technique lightly, for pleasure. “Don’t be afraid to experiment and add your personal touch, but always respect the roots and flavours of your culture,” says owner Antonio Lai.
At Café Quenino in Singapore, senior mixologist Sathya’s “Lucky Laksa” and ondeh-ondeh toddy cocktail thread nostalgia through modern methods (pandan-infused vodka; toddy balanced with syrup; gula melaka and toasted coconut on the rim). The effect is emotional: drinks as conversations with memory. “It’s no longer just about sleek hotel bars and fancy cocktails served in hushed rooms; it’s become more personal, playful, and proudly local,” says Sathya.
Even the classical canon gets reimagined with regional soul. At Island Shangri-La Hong Kong, King Tau extols a “Baijiu Sour,” where the spirit is combined with yuzu and egg white – a reminder that Asia’s cocktail language can expand by shifting the base note, not just the garnish.
Values, Trends, and the Headwinds
If the last five years were an explosion of creativity, the next five will be an exercise in intention. Across the region, you can feel values being codified – not as press-release virtues, but as design principles.
Sustainability leads, not as rhetoric but as workflow. In Hong Kong, Penicillin’s closed-loop ethos has become a regional touchstone; in Singapore, Nutmeg & Cove talks more about structured training and community support than content marketing, while still quietly reducing waste behind the stick. Vender in Taichung shuttles ingredients and ideas between bar and kitchen: super juice to extend citrus life; leftover infusions folded into dishes; a Peranakan-inspired interior built to last, not to trend.
Low- and no-ABV drinks are no longer the polite page at the back of a menu. Qura’s team in Hong Kong notes a genuine rise in low-ABV offerings and the inclusion of no-alcoholic spirits with intent, not apology. Mumbai’s Mendes sees a generational preference for balance that’s not at odds with sophistication; it’s redefining it. In Japan, Ohtake observes the same shift post-pandemic: a global current adapted to local ritual.
Community, too, is being formalised. KL Cocktail Week makes an entire city feel like a classroom; in Bangkok, bartenders’ night-off pilgrimages creates an informal guild; in Guangzhou, Hope & Sesame leverages collaborations with cultural institutions like the HEM museum to design menus that speak to architecture as well as flavour. Qura’s team highlights cross-industry collaborations – such as art, music, and fashion – as a way to centre bartenders as cultural figures, not mere facilitators.
All of this, of course, meets the pressures any growing scene encounters. Visibility remains uneven, especially. for emerging markets and non-English-speaking bartenders. Bar Us frames the challenge plainly: global platforms don’t always reach the cities that most deserve them, and language can be a barrier to fully conveying creativity and passion. “Not all bartenders feel confident communicating in English with international guests, which can impact their ability to fully express their creativity and passion,” says a rep from Bar Us. “but with training and technology, this barrier is breaking down and becoming easier to cross.”
Rising costs – rents, spirits, raw materials – are a shared constraint. Qura’s team notes a sobering math: more brands and bars opening, a static or shrinking pool of bar-hoppers. “This creates a highly competitive market where everyone is vying for the attention of a limited audience,” says Pucci. “To overcome these challenges, bars need to be flexible, focus on good service and quality, and find innovative ways to stand out while ensuring guests have a great experience.”
And then there are the challenges of translation – cultural and sensory. In China, Hope & Sesame acknowledges that some local flavours – say, bitter melon – require education to be appreciated; tasting notes and snack pairings can serve as scaffolding for unfamiliar palates.
“Cultural differences act as a significant barrier for each country,” says Palm Supawit Muttarattana, co-founder of Dry Wave Cocktail Studio. “We really need to understand and respect these differences.”
Even collaboration has a tension. As Gerald Li observes, when chefs step into a bar context with figures like his bar director, John Nugent, the mood relaxes. Jackets come off; creativity loosens without losing rigor. The experience becomes “more down to earth,” guests see what chefs cook when off-duty, and bartenders become co-authors of flavour. But such ease requires intent – a shared language built across kitchens and counters so that novelty never drifts into gimmick and respect never calcifies into rigidity.
“Trying to strike a balance is one of the most difficult challenges in modern bartending,” says a rep from Three X Co. “Push too far into novelty, and drinks can feel gimmicky; cling too tightly to tradition, and the experience may seem stale.”
The good news is that these headwinds have had the counterintuitive effect of crystallising Asia’s sense of self. Constraints are forcing clarity. Rather than imitate successes abroad, bars are setting their own beliefs and building their own vernaculars – in Nepal’s sensory memories at Barc; Jakarta’s roselle pink; Kunming’s truffle earthiness; KL’s trigona honey terroir; and Tokyo’s quiet revolution of shochu and sake cocktails finding new fans without losing their souls.
BurdaLuxury’s Lens
If the 2010s were the decade of proving parity – of demonstrating that Asia could match the West in technique and taste – the 2020s have been about moving the goalposts. The most interesting drinks in the world are now speaking multiple languages: culinary and cultural; local and global; rigorous and romantic.
For those mapping their next journey, the coordinates are multiplying. Seoul’s side stories are becoming centre stage. Kuala Lumpur’s calendar is becoming a syllabus. China’s second cities are writing first drafts of the future. Vietnam is no longer “emerging” so much as arrived. Singapore remains a lodestar, recalibrating with every menu turn. Hong Kong continues to set the bar for cross-genre elegance and savoury ambition. Tokyo and Osaka are showing how classical and contemporary can harmonise without dissonance. Bali and Jakarta are reminding the region that play is a discipline.
Ultimately, the most modern aspect of Asia’s bar scene is not its techniques or trends. It’s that it knows where it comes from, knows where it wants to go, and invites you – kindly, attentively, and deliciously – to come along.
