Discover Tokyo’s Best Alcohol-Free Cocktail Bars

The taxi dropped me a short walk from AC House, a new Tokyo restaurant tucked in the origami folds of a residential neighborhood near the Aoyama Cemetery. The location felt appropriate, as I suspected that another drink might lead to dire consequences.

Inside, AC House presents a space capsule of smooth white curves, with a sweeping 10-seat counter on the first floor. An open kitchen showcases chef Atsuki Kuroda, who deftly chars turnips on the robata grill and pairs squid blini with gingko nuts. The preserved open second story exudes a rustic charm, with every knotty timber plank intact. Anchored in Japanese ingredients yet influenced by Italy and Scandinavia, the layered cooking style intrigued me. Nevertheless, the thought of ten courses, each paired with wine, extinguished my enthusiasm like a bucket of cold water.

“Could I switch to the nonalcoholic pairing?” I inquired of my server, Haruna Sugiyama, who explained that the nonalcoholic option required advance notice. Her sympathetic smile suggested she questioned whether we could conjure a roster of compelling zero-proof drinks on the spot.

To my surprise, that’s precisely what happened, beginning with a fuchsia-colored effervescent drink. “Amazake,” she informed me, describing it as a cloudy, subtly sweet beverage made from koji-cultured rice. The vibrant hue came from shiso syrup, with diced pickled orange peel settling at the bottom like delightful boba. Tiny bubbles raced to the surface, and a large ice cube clinked against the glass, igniting my thirst.

Tokyo is undeniably a vibrant drinking city. The action unfolds at master-class cocktail bars hidden in unassuming office buildings, during shochu power hours electrifying izakaya, and within luxurious lobby bars elevated in the clouds. However, a noticeable trend is emerging: a growing preference for low-alcohol beverages.

According to Keita Saito, who picked me up from my hotel, the popular Trunk, for a bar crawl in Shibuya, “For my customers and many young people, low-alcohol cocktails and mocktails are increasingly popular.” Saito, a sparsely goateed gearhead adorned with tornado and lightning tattoos, owns Liquid Factory, a 10-seat cocktail workshop located just blocks from Trunk, though it was his night off, so we would not be visiting that establishment.

Our first stop was SG Club, where umami-infused bubbles danced across Parmigiano Sours, crafted from pisco and Sauternes. Neo-piña coladas arrived in charming pineapple vessels. Ferociously fizzy whisky sodas complemented a vibrant feast of iridescent sashimi and comforting oden stew at Shirubee, a lively restaurant-industry hangout. In Shinjuku, we squeezed into Open Book, pressed spine to spine like the volumes that adorned the floor-to-ceiling shelves, and indulged in the bar’s famous Lemon Sour—a refreshing delight. At one point, Saito candidly remarked, “It’s changing the stereotype of Japanese people drinking too much.”

Despite the night’s lively nature, Saito’s assertion holds merit. Alcohol consumption has experienced a two-decade decline in Japan, with the pandemic significantly accelerating this trend, particularly among Gen Zers and millennials. Lauren Shannon, an American expat and general manager at Arigato Japan, articulated this further over restorative miso soup the following morning: “I’ve lived in Tokyo for twenty-five years, and I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been to my Japanese friends’ houses.” She clarified that this isn’t due to a lack of hospitality, but rather the logistics of life in multigenerational households residing in small apartments, which often push socializing to izakaya and bars.

These preferred haunts faced challenges during successive lockdowns, when the government imposed strict limits on operating hours for bars and restaurants. With social-drinking spaces largely off-limits, consumption dropped, and establishments that wished to survive had to innovate. One such example is the Bellwood in Shibuya, where creativity flourished under lockdown. Here, I met chef Ayaka Terai behind the dark wood counter of a bar-within-a-bar, dressed in a linen smock that gave her the air of an artist.

Bellwood’s founder and head bartender, Atsushi Suzuki, welcomed me with a refreshing cocktail of shochu and shiso topped with seltzer, while Terai introduced her unconventional Bell Sushi. “I draw inspiration from travel, conversations with people, and Netflix,” she shared. These influences coalesce into a jubilant, globally-inspired carnival, redefining traditional sushi-making norms. Using a blowtorch, she flash-broiled anago, transformed it into nigiri with delicately flavored rice, and applied a glossy coffee glaze and cocoa nibs in homage to Brazil, signaling a shift in the sushi paradigm.

On another evening, I ventured into a Ginza basement to meet two more innovative creators. Chef Tatsuya Suzuki and sake master Takafumi Doi awaited me behind the dark wood counter of their restaurant, Kion. As they partially emerged from the soothing shadows, they presented an impressive selection of sakes to complement Suzuki’s intellectually crafted Mediterranean-Japanese cuisine. Choices included Shikishima Junmai with a soft bouquet of peach blossoms and licorice, a tawny aged brew from 1988 that boasted acidity akin to Oloroso sherry, and a fragrant blond mango sake reminiscent of sweetly scented Juicy Fruit gum. Notably, a red-rice Kyokuko Rosso infused with sansho pepper and bergamot had been carbonated into a faux sparkling rosé.

Tokyo’s bar scene is in a constant state of flux. To illustrate, Kion closed in April, only for Suzuki and Doi to quickly launch Chord, a sake think tank and pop-up restaurant series. The venue may shift, but their mission remains steadfast: to reintroduce sake to a younger generation that often perceives it as “a drink for the elderly.” They also offer spirit-free alternatives, ensuring a diverse beverage selection for all.

Back at AC House, a series of distinctive, complex, and delightful nonalcoholic drinks were introduced: roasty hojicha, served both as a cold brew and infused with burdock and fermented into flavorful kombucha; the Gin-Apple Soda, a harmonious blend of fresh juice and juniper; and aged red rooibos transformed into an orange-wine lookalike, enhanced with plum syrup, pine oil, and pickled pine-leaf brine. None contained any trace of alcohol. Sugiyama, who revealed herself as both my server and AC House’s beverage director, presented the last drink, a mocktail mimicking mezcal, alongside dessert. The hazelnut ice cream melted away as I savored the captivating mix of plum, whey, and an enigmatic alt-agave fusion. It was a delightful combination of fruity, sharp, bittersweet, and smoky notes, reminiscent of a plum tarte tatin baked a touch too long and infused with lemon and cream.

Through the insights gained from the city’s new hospitality generation, I grasped that the balance between drinking and abstaining from alcohol could indeed coexist rather than represent an either-or situation. Later during my trip, I would experience this balance myself. At Liquid Factory, I opted for Flowers, a spirit-free basil-and-orange-blossom fizz, and One Pear, a gin and tonic infusion with pear liqueur. At the Tokyo Edition, Toranomon, I delighted in elegant bottled tea (a refined Taiwanese oolong) and a wine cocktail featuring Sauvignon Blanc with green rooibos and mint eau-de-vie, all at the exquisite Jade Room. And during a cocktail crawl with Shannon, I enjoyed the Blue Cheese Lore Martini at Folklore, a stunning blend of blue-cheese brandy, sweet-potato shochu, Sauternes, and honey.

At AC House, I later reflected on how Sugiyama achieved the ethereal smokiness of mezcal in her standout after-dinner creation. “Lapsang souchong,” she explained, referring to the ancient tea finished over a pinewood fire. While she offered to compare it to the actual mezcal version of the drink, I politely declined. “Do you not drink alcohol?” she ultimately inquired. My response seemed fitting for the Tokyo moment: I do, and I don’t.

Sugiyama has since moved on from AC House, a reminder of the perpetual motion in this industry, but her influence continues to be felt. Shortly after her departure, AC House fully embraced a nonalcoholic approach.

A version of this story first appeared in the September 2023 issue of iBestTravel under the headline “Lost in Libation”.