In the wake of the pandemic and political upheaval, a quiet evolution is taking place in one of Asia’s loudest cities - By Craig Sauers
For many years, I was paid to be a snob. A cynic, even. I was an editor with an expense account, and I was expected to anoint the best bars and restaurants. So it goes when you work for a city magazine.
In 2019, I spent some time working as the food and drinks editor for Time Out Hong Kong. It was like a fever dream. I ate and drank (for free) better than any person deserves to.
I no longer write bar and restaurant reviews, but some residual skepticism is still coded in my DNA. When I revisited Hong Kong in early 2025, I knew I was going to visit Bar Leone, because it was named the best bar on the continent by Asia’s 50 Best Bars two years running. I assumed something would awaken my inner critic. Nothing did. Bar Leone was fantastic. The prices were fair, the service exceptional, and the smoked-olive martinis and mortadella focaccia even better.
In a city where trends often burn fast and bright, Bar Leone represented a turning point. As I barhopped in the Sheung Wan and Central districts, the beating hearts of Hong Kong nightlife, I found places more interested in building identity than generating buzz. It felt like a quiet evolution had occurred in one of Asia’s loudest cities.
“You can’t just open anything and survive anymore,” says LeighAnn Luckett, owner and co-founder of Crushed, a wine bar known for low-intervention bottles. “People are much more careful about where they’re spending their money.”
Hong Kong has changed a lot in six years. When I lived there, the market moved at a breakneck pace. New projects would open and close within three months. Bars and bottle shops were spinning off second and third branches. Trends came and went with astonishing speed. It was capitalism on steroids.
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