The Hinoki Martini at Katana Kitten in New York City’s West Village is a beautiful amalgamation of Japanese and American drinking traditions. Born of the classic Martini framework, with a split base of gin and vodka to appeal to both crowds, co-owner Masahiro Urushido’s drink replaces vermouth with sherry, sake and a tincture made from hinoki, the Japanese cypress wood traditionally used to make temples, bathing tubs and sake serving vessels called masu. Presented in a custom-made masu on a bed of crushed ice and garnished with cypress leaf, kombu-brined olive and a pickled Japanese scallion bulb, the drink stirs up my own memories of the exacting Martinis that anchor the intimate cocktail bars of Tokyo’s Ginza neighborhood.

But Urushido’s contemporary take on the classic is more than mere echo. It speaks to the underlying ethos of his genre-defying bar, which he has described as: “Not a Japanese bar in New York, not a Japanese-inspired or -themed bar, but rather a hybrid of two formidable drinking cultures, with each given equal respect and prominence.”

Bartenders from these two formidable drinking cultures have engaged in a dialogue about cocktails since the late 1800s, when the Meiji Restoration led to the opening of Japan’s borders to foreigners. Among them was a German-born American bartender named Louis Eppinger, who introduced cocktails like the Martini, Manhattan and Old-Fashioned to whisky and beer drinkers at the Yokohama Grand Hotel, just south of Tokyo. Japanese bartenders quickly embraced these classics, filtering their construction through the lens of omotenashi (hospitality) and monozukuri (craftsmanship). Eventually, this idiosyncratic approach—which included the development of specialized tools, practiced techniques and reverent attitudes—became known as uniquely “Japanese,” and has endured almost entirely uninterrupted during the two centuries since.

The original trappings of American cocktail culture, which Eppinger brought with him to Japan, were largely left by the wayside in the States from Prohibition through the early aughts, when pioneering bars heralded the return of “craft” cocktail culture. In the decades since, a seemingly clear line has existed between the way the two countries approach making cocktails, with American bartenders frequently looking at what’s going on in Japan for inspiration, adopting tools and emulating techniques in an attempt to raise the bar. A deeper read will reveal that the lines between the two have actually been intertwined the entire time. Either way, there’s no arguing that the latest boom of Japanese-style bars has begun to blur the edges in a way not yet seen before.

While this is playing out from coast to coast (see: Kumiko in Chicago, Watertrade in Austin, Bar Kamon in San Diego and the now-closed Tongue-Cut Sparrow in Houston, to name a few), New York City has undoubtedly become an epicenter. Angel’s Share, Katana Kitten, Bar Goto, Shinji’s, Martiny’s, Bar Moga, Sip & Guzzle: All of these bars, all within walking distance of one another, tell a remarkably different story about what it means to be a “Japanese-style” bar today. In these spaces, a new chapter of the centuries-old conversation is taking shape.

When Japanese expat Tadao Yoshida (known as Tony) opened Angel’s Share in the East Village in 1993—a time when New York City’s bar scene was awash with Cosmopolitans, Appletinis and Lychee Martinis—he created a space that “represented Manhattan’s first taste of the Tokyo style of cocktail bar: all formality, intimacy and meticulous service,” wrote Robert Simonson in this 24-year retrospective.

Yoshida introduced the city’s drinkers to many of the hallmarks of Japanese cocktail culture and, in turn, unwittingly sent up a flare for America’s once-forgotten cocktail culture to return to its bars. “The way people view Japanese cocktail bars is as establishments that are timeless, with careful attention to detail and technique and quality. The hospitality mentality is also very crucial—that is the creation of harmony between the moment a customer comes through the door to when they leave,” says Yoshida’s daughter, Erina, who took over operations when the bar moved from the original location, hidden behind a second-story izakaya, to its new subterranean sanctuary in Greenwich Village. “The creation of a drink is a process and an art form.”

Now, more than two decades later, the program still features many of the same values and follows many of the same practices. For example, the bar employs an apprenticeship program where employees start as busser before they graduate to server, then barback, then bartender—a process that can take anywhere from six months to several years. As is also the case in Ginza-style cocktail bars, the ice is taken as seriously as liquid ingredients, carved to perfectly fit inside shakers and glassware; soft jazz croons through the speakers at a respectable volume; and hosts do not allow for standing at the bar, or parties bigger than four, to keep the atmosphere hushed and service orderly. “It’s still an intimate space where people feel like they have escaped from New York,” Erina Yoshida says, though a few Western-style updates have recently been implemented to better cater to the clientele, such as a waiting room for arriving guests, and bartenders who are encouraged to have conversations with those sitting in front of them as they mix. “I wouldn’t say we are Japanese-American, because it’s all based on Japanese culture, but I would say we are Japanese-style, because we’re in New York and things have to change because this is where we are located.”

Angel’s Share’s faithful representation of the Ginza-style cocktail bar helped shape a new generation of New York cocktail bars. For bartenders like Sasha Petraske, the tenets of the genre—small spaces, quiet music, a serious and technique-driven approach to mixing—inspired him to open Milk & Honey with similar principles on display, fueling an early aughts revival of the American speakeasy. For bartenders with Japanese roots, like Angel’s Share alumnus Shinichi Ikeda, the bar’s success prompted the opening of concepts built upon their heritage, like B Flat in Tribeca. The bar opened under Ikeda’s ownership in 2007 with a detailed ice program, a steady soundtrack of soft jazz and “a discernible devotion to the art” of making cocktails. In an interview with The New York Times, then-manager and bartender Kenny Chin called it “a secret type of bar similar to the kind you can find in Japan.”

In 2015, the conversation began to shift in a new direction when Pegu Club alum Kenta Goto opened Bar Goto on the Lower East Side. The intimate space looks and feels distinctly Japanese compared with other places in the neighborhood, with reflections of Goto’s heritage woven throughout: His grandmother’s kimono is framed prominently on the wall, and bottles of Japanese whisky line the backbar. But the atmosphere wasn’t quite as rigid as that which defines traditional Japanese cocktail bars. “While we take our job seriously, I like that our team can be themselves at work, and that we create a comfortable, relaxed environment,” Goto says of the more American style of service. “The same is true for not taking reservations. We want to be accessible and fair to everyone, both regulars and first-time customers.”

With its menu of paradigm-busting food and drinks featuring Japanese ingredients like sake, shochu, shiso and ume, Goto broke free of the classics-only model of Ginza-style bars. The Sakura Martini—now considered something of a modern classic—debuted with sake and a salted sakura (cherry blossom) in addition to maraschino liqueur and gin, transforming the classic Martini into something that communicated the essence of both American and Japanese cocktail cultures. Dishes like the Miso Wings, which slather one of Japan’s most famous culinary ingredients onto the framework of the typical American lowbrow bar food, followed the same directive. In some cases, like the okonomiyaki, Goto says the inclusion feels extra personal, because “growing up in Japan, I have many memories of helping my mom at her okonomiyaki restaurant, [which] we ran out of the first floor of our house.”

Shortly after opening, Goto told Grub Street that all of this differentiation was intentional. “I don’t consider ourselves like Angel’s Share Part Two,” he said. “Angel’s Share is more like an authentic Japanese bar.” Goto, instead, sought to build a bar with a “Japanese soul” that intentionally broke from the mold his predecessors established. “Bar Goto is a bar in New York, opened by a bartender who is Japanese,” Goto says. “What we do is a reflection of that.”

Three years later, Masa Urushido built on this ethos with Katana Kitten, a Greenwich Village spot that presented a raucous, divergent perspective on what it means to merge the Japanese and American cocktail bar aesthetics. “We wanted to be a neighborhood bar, so everyone can come by any day or for any occasion—someplace casual,” says managing partner Urushido of the concept. “It’s not fusion—that is a very confusing word—but it does have a Japanese point of view. It really is a Japanese American bar.”

The footprint of Katana Kitten is huge compared to most Japanese-style places, spanning two floors with the capacity to entertain more than 100 people. Instead of jazz played at a subdued volume, a steady stream of Japanese and American rock and pop sets a rambunctious tone, one that gets amplified by a noisy décor. This is in no way a quiet bar. On any given night, the bartenders feel more like party hosts, pouring boilermakers of Japanese whisky and lager with as much vigor as the high-volume sports bar down the street. The food and drink menus also turn the volume up to 11 with tongue-in-cheek highballs like the Melon-Lime Soda, made with lime vodka, lime juice, Midori, matcha and lime leaf. The teriyaki smash burger is similarly over the top, made with green shiso, pickled pineapple, charred onion and miso mayo, served with nori-dusted fries.

Almost every element at Katana opened the aperture on what most Americans have come to expect from a Japanese-style bar. No longer are these bars strictly reverent recreations of their Ginza counterparts. Instead, they have evolved to be expressions of their owners’ unique POVs and, in turn, are becoming spaces where a new exchange of ideas and experience is unfolding in real time.

At Shinji’s, the team behind Michelin-starred omakase Noda channels a bombastic spirit similar to the one that underlies Katana Kitten, filtered through a postmodern lens. Named after Shinji Nohara, known to many as the Tokyo Fixer, the menu features cutting-edge cocktails inspired by pop culture. Among them: the ultra popular Tropicana, a madcap take on the Screwdriver made with 10 ingredients, including liquid shio koji and a vacuum-macerated orange liqueur, that’s served inside a frozen, hollowed-out orange. By contrast, a more reserved approach can be found at Martiny’s in Gramercy Park, which opened in 2022. There, Angel’s Share alum Takuma Watanabe has cultivated an elegant, reserved program driven by omotenashi and sprinkled with traditional Japanese touchpoints like elegant Kimura glassware, a relaxed jazz soundtrack, oshibori—scented hand towels offered to guests upon arrival—and diamond-cut ice. Situated in an 1800s-era carriage house, the subdued but inviting atmosphere is relaxed enough to feel American but detailed enough to stand out as Japanese-inspired.

Sip & Guzzle, which opened in January 2024, is perhaps the most literal expression of where this cross-cultural handshake stands today. The newest concept from internationally acclaimed Japanese bartender Shingo Gokan (also an Angel’s Share alum) and former Employee’s Only bartender Steve Schneider is made up of two distinct concepts under one roof: One is meant to showcase American cocktail culture (Guzzle) and one hews closer to Japanese traditions (Sip). The tie that binds the two is the story of the 77 samurai who visited New York City for the first time in 1860 to open a diplomatic relationship between the two countries. “I feel like when you’re [at Sip], you are aboard the Kanrin Maru and drinking amongst the samurai who, after visiting NYC for the first time, have taken a liking to this new American, New York style of bartending,” Schneider says, citing Japanese cobbler shakers, Japanese glassware, hand-cut ice and more prep-intensive cocktails as signals of Japanese style at the downstairs bar.

Upstairs, on the other hand, “represents the bustling docks of New York City. Pop in, pop out, come as you are. Standing room allowed and encouraged. It’s a bit louder in there and the bartenders are a bit more chatty. It has that neighborhood bar vibe,” Schneider says. In the pub-like space, casual classics and riffs on classics are featured on the menu alongside highballs, beer and wine.

While the bar is certainly concept-driven, Schneider is quick to remind me that, like many of its more recent Japanese-style brethren, it’s personal, too. “In short, I would say Guzzle is a New York bar with a little Japanese influence while Sip is a Japanese bar with a bit of New York influence, because,” he says, “that’s what Shingo and I are.”

The experience of popping in for a quick Bamboo upstairs at Guzzle then descending below deck to the candlelit Sip for technique-driven drinks like the Tomato Tree, made with the sap, leaf, flower and fruit of the plant, naturally prompts an examination of how both concepts reflect their respective cultures. There are obvious differences that ring out like a bell, like the tenor and décor, the glassware and demeanor of the bartenders, but there are also moments where the two dovetail seamlessly—nothing feels out of place about drinking simple Japanese classics upstairs at the bustling New York bar, or a progressive “American” cocktail in a Japanese-style room below. Perhaps more than ever, the intersections all seem to meet without friction.