How Holly Graham went from covering Asia’s bar scene to running one of its best

After you left Time Out as its food and drink editor, The Old Man offered you a position behind the bar. Standing behind the stick after years of covering the industry—what did it teach you that writing about bars never could?

It was like a hands-on approach, meaning I could write about bars and booze and bartending in so much more depth going forward because I wasn’t an observer anymore; I was proactively doing and learning. It’s like taking a method actor’s approach. I’ve always been good at talking to people, but it also taught me that I really enjoy hospitality and taking care of people. It feels like it’s innate, but I just needed to be in the right position to tap into it.

You had the journalist’s eye, the critic’s palate and a decade of knowing what great bars look like. Did any of that actually prepare you for owning one?

Nothing ever prepares you for the long hours, the rollercoaster extreme highs and lows. I went from working from home writing for the best part of six years, to managing a team and managing a room full of people. This is all coupled with the exhaustion of the physical labour of bartending as well as the mental labour of talking to people. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but it is tiring, and nothing can prepare you. Even if peers and friends warn you, it’s still never enough because you’re inevitably going to go and do it yourself anyway!

Read more: Meet Me at the Bar: Rian Asiddao of The Jury and Bar by East

You’ve described Tokyo Confidential as “Hong Kong energy translated into Tokyo”, and plenty of Hong Kongers have walked in and said exactly that back to you—and you’ve said it’s the highest compliment you could receive. What is Hong Kong energy, exactly, and why did you want to bring that to Tokyo?

I think it’s easy to call Tokyo Confidential a “Western-style” bar because I am originally from the UK, but I’ve been gone so long and didn’t come up in the UK bar industry, so I don’t really have a frame of reference other than occasionally visiting bars when I’m back to see family. Hong Kong is where I “grew up” in regards to the bar industry, so in reality, it’s most of what I know. I moved to Hong Kong because it truly is electric, and it’s a frequency I am in tune with, and wanted to bring a piece of that with me to Tokyo. 

You appointed Waka as Tokyo Confidential’s head bartender because of a Champagne tower photo—you sent her a message on Instagram, flew her to Hong Kong for a Champagne brunch, and knew within hours that she was the one. That’s not a conventional hiring process. How much do you trust instinct over CV in this industry—and what does a great bartender actually look like to you?

That’s an abridged version for sure (Laughs). There were lots of “getting to know you” bits in between, but I always had a great gut feeling about Waka from the jump. For me, a great bartender has hospitality as an innate talent. I believe it’s genuinely not instinctual for some people, but if you have baseline talent and passion, it can be honed. Bartending is a physical skill and can be taught; interpersonal skills cannot.

Related: Jigger and Pony: How a hospitality-first mindset made this Singapore bar one of the world’s best

I read somewhere that one of the reasons you left journalism was because publishing had changed—SEO, listicles, smaller teams, less room for the kind of first-person writing you were known for. Is that a fair characterisation, and what do you think that shift has cost food and drink journalism specifically?

It’s going to sound like a grumpy rant, but the problem began when people started listening to social media influencers and bloggers with no formal education in the field, and—to be honest—very little passion in the field. A lot of it is superficial, for-the-clicks viral nonsense that doesn’t possess any backbone and very little use other than being Instagrammable. However, sometimes when things swing so wildly in one direction, they have to swing back, and I believe that it means that quality journalism is even more respected and yearned for, as it is few and far between. 

Now, you’re on the other side of the story. Has owning a bar changed the way you write (or would write, if given the opportunity) about the industry—what you notice, what you let through, what you’re no longer willing to say?

This is a tough one, but one reason I left the world of critiquing is that I was friends with so many bar and restaurant owners, and I could see how hard they worked and how heartbreaking it was for them to receive a silly complaint or bad review. It’s so easy for someone to get behind a keyboard and write a takedown without ever knowing what goes on behind the scenes. Also, hospitality is a very human business; we can’t all be perfect all the time.

See also: Wine etiquette crimes: 10 controversial things people do with their wine

Cocktails of Asia, was, as you put it, your love letter to the industry that gave you a home. The follow-up second book is in the works and set to come out this winter. What’s changed in Asia’s bar scene in the four years since you wrote the first edition?

So much! We’ve grown leaps and bounds with global recognition now, and markets like Hong Kong and Singapore are seen as leaders. When I first started out, I felt our counterparts in the West often thought of Asia as “behind”, and that’s why I pushed so hard through my channels to show how awesome it is. Bar Leone (Hong Kong) being number one on World’s 50 Best Bars is a testament to Asia’s standing.

Your guiding philosophy in running a bar is, “You may not always remember the drinks, but you’ll always remember how you felt.” So—how do you want people to feel when they leave Tokyo Confidential?

I want them to feel like they found a home they never knew they needed.

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