Squeezed out by highballs and quality Japanese malts, the country’s sake breweries are trying to innovate to win back market share.
4 min
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OSAKA, Japan—The Japanese have been drinking sake since the eighth century. Back then, it was believed the rice-based liquor warded off ghosts.
Today, it has a stronger spirit to contend with: whisky.
Enter Nishiya, a bar in downtown Osaka, and you are given little choice of what to drink. You might fancy a glass of sake or a shot of the stronger, more bitter shochu. But regulars will insist you try another, less traditional Japanese delicacy, a highball.
“It was invented in the U.K.,” says the bartender, mixing a glass of whisky, which is spelled the Scottish way here, ice and soda. “But it was perfected in Japan.”
The cocktail has been gaining ground in the country since the late 2000s. It pairs well with the local cuisine, and provides momentary relief in neighborhood taverns, or izakaya , during the country’s hot and humid summers. Between 2015 and 2020, domestic whisky sales increased 50%. Japanese drinkers spent $3.5 billion on the spirit in 2023.
This has left sake producers struggling to find a way to keep the party going. By some measures consumption has fallen by more than 75% since the 1970s, and 30% in the past decade, displaced in part by invasive species—sometimes beer, but especially whisky.
The government in Tokyo has stepped in, introducing a network of brand ambassadors—or “sake samurai”—to help promote the ailing industry. Last year the beverage obtained Unesco world heritage status, like French Champagne or Belgian beer.
But resistance is also coming from the factory floor. Brewers have begun experimenting with new recipes of “craft” sake, adding unusual ingredients to hit hoppy, beer-inspired flavors and floral, gin-like notes. One brewery has developed an Italian-inspired “margherita” sake, blending the umami of sun-dried tomatoes with the amino acids produced during sake’s traditional brewing process.
All this to make the whisky-and-soda brigade look a little staid.
“We want to honor tradition but also create things no one has ever seen before,” said Shuhei Okazumi, founder of the Japan Craft Sake Brewers Association. This community of young, entrepreneurial toji want to upend sake’s image as the drink of a bygone era. Dedicated craft sake bars are now popping up around Tokyo. Festivals debuting new and unusual varieties from around the country are sold-out events.
“They’re like the young, punk-rock generation of sake brewing,” said Monica Samuels, one of roughly a hundred government-certified sake samurai. “For so long, mainstream Japanese culture has told people to blend in. You’re not supposed to be outrageous. The craft sake movement wants to change that.”
They could be in for a long, thirsty fight.
Whisky is now deeply entrenched in Japanese drinking culture. The country’s taste for the amber nectar can be traced back to Masataka Taketsuru, revered as the godfather of Japanese whisky, who traveled to Scotland in 1919 to serve an apprenticeship before returning to help found Japan’s first distilleries. The spirit has had its ups and downs since then, but consumption really took off when people began adding soda and ice.
Takeshi Niinami , chief executive of Suntory, Japan’s largest distillery, says shifting consumption patterns are partly demographic. Japan’s rapidly aging population means health considerations are to the fore of many drinkers’ minds, he says. Sake tends to have a high sugar content.
“When I go out for sushi, I’ll go for a highball. Because sake might be delicious, but I can’t afford the sugar. Sure I can have maybe just one glass, that’s fine. But sake is too good—you can rarely just have one,” Niinami says.
But it also speaks to a turn in local production. Many traditional sake brewers are now pivoting to whisky, attracted not only by strong domestic demand but the high prices premium varieties can command overseas. International awards , marketing campaigns and actor Bill Murray’s turn in “Lost in Translation” have whetted appetites for Japanese whisky to such an extent that a bottle of Suntory’s Yamazaki whisky, aged for 55 years, can set you back close to $1 million.
Yoichiro Nishi, an eighth-generation sake and shochu producer, opened Ontake Distillery in 2019.
Nestled in the foothills of Mount Ontake, Japan’s second-largest volcano after Fuji, the distillery strikes a blend between old and new. Dark timber panels, autumnal maple trees and natural springs recall the traditional tea houses of Kyoto, or the temples of Koyasan, but an angular, concrete walkway, echoing the masters of Japanese brutalism, suggests tradition might be taking a turn.
Inside, burnt-black sherry casks carry a single-malt whisky, now five years old. A first edition was released in 2023, taking gold at the San Francisco Wine & Spirits Competition.
Nishi acknowledges the jump from sake to whisky was far from straightforward. He recalls his fascination with the idea that a drink could improve over time, maturing for five, 10, or 20-plus years. “As a brewer of sake, a drink best consumed fresh, this was an intriguing concept,” he says.
But time is money, and whisky is by nature a waiting game. To get around this, Nishi sells casks before they have matured. While waiting, customers are invited to stay in the distillery, sample a few drams and sink a few holes in Ontake’s on-site golf course. The distillery is open to everyone—everyone who can shell out $50,000 for a cask, that is.
Nishi is one of many newcomers to the industry. In 2016, there were 10 whisky distilleries in Japan. Today there are nearly 130. But an increasingly vibrant market has come at a cost. From record highs in 2022, exports of Japanese whisky have now started falling. Many are worried that an explosion of distilleries is diluting authenticity, with blends of local and overseas whiskies commonly sold under the Japanese whisky brand.
Some are calling for tighter industry regulations. Others insist the rules are made to be broken.
“Creativity has always been vital to the Japanese spirit,” says Brian Ashcraft, an author who has written extensively on Japanese drinking culture. “Any regulation shouldn’t come at the expense of that.”
It is a sentiment shared by the craft sake movement, whose proponents hope new ideas will drive demand both domestically and abroad. Exports have roughly doubled since 2018, with sake breweries popping up around the world, from Taiwan to the U.S. and Mexico, each with their own take on the drink.
Okazumi, the craft brewer, said the new varieties could do for sake what the California roll did for sushi.
“Sometimes tradition needs to innovate to go global,” he said.
Early indications from several big regional real-estate boards suggest March was overall another down month.
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7 minMANALAPAN, FLA.— The Deal-Closer. That’s what real-estate agent Jack Elkins jokingly calls the Hinckley picnic boat he docks on the Intracoastal Waterway in the Florida community of Manalapan.
From the road, many of Manalapan’s mansions are shrouded by plantings and foliage, but they are clearly visible from the water, Elkins explained. A boat ride is often the best way to show properties to the wealthy buyers now flocking to the tiny town.
On a recent afternoon, Elkins cruised down the Intracoastal in the The Deal-Closer, passing mansion after mansion, most with their own docks. “When I was a little kid, almost all of this was jungle,” said Elkins, 46, who spent much of his childhood in the area. “There were foxes and parrots and all these wild animals.”
Manalapan, a roughly 2.4-square-mile town with a population of about 400, is just south of glitzier Palm Beach.
While Manalapan has long drawn moneyed residents such as the singer Billy Joel, it has historically lacked the prestige—and price tags—of Palm Beach. That has changed dramatically over the past five years, however, thanks to a series of major home sales.
In 2022, for example, Oracle billionaire Larry Ellison paid $173 million for a historic Manalapan estate. And David MacNeil, the founder of the automotive-accessories manufacturer WeatherTech, has spent a combined $94 million over the past year on a pair of neighboring sites, with plans to build a megamansion there.
“People like Larry Ellison and David MacNeil, these individuals can afford to buy real estate anywhere in the world,” said local real-estate agent Nick Malinosky of Douglas Elliman . “Manalapan is not a second choice for them. It’s their first choice.”
On South Ocean Boulevard, Manalapan’s most affluent corridor, about 21 homes have traded for more than $20 million each since 2020. At least six have sold for $40 million or more, up from only one in that price range during the previous five years.
In 2021, eBay billionaire Jeffrey Skoll bought an ocean-to-Intracoastal estate for $89.93 million, while Joel’s longtime home sold last year for $42.6 million.
Now, however, it is unclear whether Manalapan’s hot streak can continue. Like luxury markets across the country, the town is contending with stock-market turmoil and the fallout from President Trump’s tariffs.
Like many Manalapan residents, local developer Stewart Satter, who is listing a yet-to-be-built spec home for $285 million, is a Trump supporter. During the 2024 election, Satter flew a giant Trump flag above the site.
But tariffs have “created a tremendous amount of uncertainty at the minimum, and that is not good for business,” Satter said. “It’s not good for real estate. People say, ‘Let’s wait. We’re not going to buy a house, we’re not going to build a house.’”
Elkins’ cuddly Native American Indian Dog, Bear, lounged on The Deal-Closer’s blue-and-white-striped seats as the boat zipped along the Intracoastal, passing glassy modern mansions and traditional Mediterranean estates.
To catch a glimpse of Ellison’s roughly 16-acre oceanfront estate, Elkins guided the Hinckley through the Boynton Inlet into the choppy Atlantic, where the sandy beach in front of Ellison’s property was visible.
Known as Gemini, the gargantuan mansion was once owned by the late publishing magnate William B. Ziff Jr., who brought in large plantings and trees from South America for the landscaping.
“When I was a little kid, barges were going by our house with these huge trees,” Elkins recalled.
Ellison has approved plans to add more homes to the estate. He also paid about $277 million last year for Manalapan’s Eau Palm Beach Resort & Spa, home to the members-only La Coquille Club, and talk is rife about how Ellison might upgrade the property. Ellison didn’t respond to requests for comment.
It’s a strange feeling, Elkins said, to see Manalapan hit the big time.
Before Covid, the town was often confused with its namesake: Manalapan, N.J. Tiny compared with Palm Beach, Manalapan developed much more slowly than its famous neighbour. It lacks the commercial infrastructure of Palm Beach, and its low-density zoning has kept it largely free of major condos or resorts.
When Satter, the developer, bought four empty lots in Manalapan in 2005, parts of the town looked like “just a mess of woods,” said his wife, Susan Satter. “I said, ‘Is this really how we want to invest our money?’”
Over the next decade, her husband built spec homes on three of the lots and sold them for a significant profit. He kept one, building a mansion there for himself and his wife.
“I thought I’d discovered a really special place,” said Stewart, who tested products for Walmart before turning to spec-home development. “If I had known what was going to happen, obviously, in the rear view mirror, I would have bought the whole town.”
The buyers of Satter’s projects include Ron and Cindy McMackin, who paid roughly $39 million in 2020 for a roughly 15,500-square-foot waterfront house with six bedrooms, then expanded it.
The couple, founders of the mechanical subcontracting company Pan-Pacific Mechanical, had relocated from Hawaii to South Florida during COVID.
“We knew nothing about Manalapan when we moved here,” said Ron, 78. He and Cindy were in the process of moving into a Palm Beach property they owned when their real-estate agent, Lawrence Moens , called. The actor Sylvester Stallone was searching for a home amid the Covid-induced real-estate frenzy, and wanted to see their house.
Before they knew it, they had agreed to sell to the “Rocky” star for $35.375 million, 33% more than the $26.65 million they had paid two years earlier.
This left them without a house. It was slim pickings in Palm Beach, and with five children, they needed plenty of space. Moens suggested Manalapan. At the time, the less-flashy choice was surprising to some of their Palm Beach friends. “I did hear a couple of times from people after that, ‘Why would Lawrence take the McMackins to Manalapan?’” said Ron.
But the McMackins love that it is quieter than Palm Beach, with less traffic. The couple have Sunday dinners with their neighbours, and Cindy has a small group of girlfriends who call themselves the “Manalapan mafia.” The McMackins like it so much that they are building a new, larger home along the same stretch.
Food-service entrepreneur Bob Carlucci and his wife, Aileen Carlucci, paid $11.63 million in 2020 for a roughly 13,000-square-foot Manalapan mansion on the Intracoastal, with a small beach house on the ocean. They are happy to have “discovered Manalapan early, ” Bob said.
Many buyers are tearing down older homes to build new mansions, Malinosky said. Before COVID, Manalapan was seen as more of a vacation destination, so buyers weren’t as choosy. Now that many are seeking full-time homes, however, “they want to make sure that it has the spa, it’s got the 12-car garage, it’s got the fitness centre, it’s got the wellness centre.”
Another prized amenity is a tunnel that runs underneath Highway A1A. Portions of the town are on a barrier island, and some homes sit on the ocean, requiring residents to cross the busy road to reach their docks on the Intracoastal.
Other estates are on the Intracoastal but have small beachhouses on the ocean. A tunnel allows residents to easily go from one side to the other.
Construction of these tunnels has become a rare point of contention between residents. In January, one couple asked the town commission to stop their neighbors from digging under the highway during the tourist season, claiming it was causing traffic to back up.
Building on the coast comes with challenges. Florida building code now requires roofs, windows and doors in high-risk areas to withstand winds of up to 170 miles an hour, according to builder Robert Burrage, who is building MacNeil’s home and four others in Manalapan.
Satter said the property insurance on his personal residence in Manalapan doesn’t include coverage for hurricane damage because it was too expensive. In addition to the annual premium, which was about $150,000 a year, he would have faced a deductible on hurricane damage of about 10% of the assessed value of the house.
He isn’t concerned with rising sea-levels, however. “When I bought my first oceanfront lot, my late father-in-law said, ‘What the hell are you doing? Don’t you know about global warming?’” Satter said. “I sold it at a huge number [in 2016] and made a lot of money. It’s been sold again and again and again—and the water hasn’t done anything.”
Manalapan’s proximity to Mar-a-Lago has added to its popularity since Trump’s election to a second term, Malinosky said. Many residents support Trump. In the McMackins’ home, a bedazzled MAGA purse hangs in Cindy’s closet and a photo book in the living room shows her attending a Trump event at Mar-a-Lago, where they are members.
But the trade war and stock-market volatility have injected uncertainty into the real-estate market.
Until recently, Hamptons home builder Joe Farrell was considering paying more than $30 million for a building site in Manalapan, he said. He has decided to hold off on any acquisitions for now, however, because of the tariffs and resulting stock-market fallout.
“The market seems to still be pretty good, but people are maybe a little more cautious about parting ways with liquidity,” Farrell said. “I want to see things stabilize before I commit to that kind of capital outlay.”
Elkins said one of his clients considered backing out of a $10 million deal over the last few weeks on Point Manalapan, but decided to move ahead to avoid forfeiting the deposit.
Malinosky said he still sees significant demand for big-ticket properties in Manalapan, especially since many wealthy people are taking money out of the stock market. He said he has closed more than $150 million in deals in the greater Palm Beach area over the past two weeks.
Even with the uncertainty, “there is no shortage of buyers that will spend $100 million right now in Manalapan,” he said.
Shelly Newman, an agent with the Corcoran Group, said she recently sold a piece of land to a spec-home developer for $25 million. And the McMackins are moving ahead with plans to complete their new house, though tariffs have been “the talk of the town,” Ron said.
“I do have a stock portfolio and it is down,” he said. “But I don’t let that affect what I’m doing. We’re very fortunate with resources.”
While Satter agrees with efforts to bring manufacturing back to the U.S., he said he has been blindsided by the extent of the trade war. “I’m not sure about how they’re rolling it out,” he said.
A handful of potential buyers have expressed interest in his $285 million listing, he said, but he realizes the prospective buyer pool is tiny. “There are going to be three or four people who ultimately show real interest and have the capacity to pull the trigger,” he said.
Ultimately, he said he isn’t too worried about the prospects for sale, since he can afford to sit on the property long-term.
Still, real-estate agents said Satter’s property and others may be priced too aggressively, even without tariffs.
British hedge-fund billionaire Chris Rokos is listing his 3-acre Manalapan estate for $150 million, more than triple what he paid for it in 2017. And real-estate investor Vivian Dimond recently cut the price of a Manalapan home by $14.5 million, to $64.5 million. It’s been on the market since September 2024.
For some Manalapan residents, home values are beside the point. Bob and Aileen Carlucci, for example, have no intention of moving.
“We look at each other and we say. ‘This is it,’” Bob said. “You can’t get anything better, we don’t believe—in this country, at least.”
