Walking the streets of Sapporo’s Susukino district in blizzard conditions is not for the fainthearted. Yet amongst the hostess bars of googly-eyed girls pressed up against the windows, looking to lure in the unsuspecting and those in the know alike, lies Bow Bar. 

A whisky bar filled with rare and old whiskies, this establishment has been around since the mid-90's and offers whisky fans a welcome respite from the cold. That said, safe havens certainly don't come free.

Sliding the traditional Japanese door open on level 8 of the Hoshi building, deep in Susukino, immediately the bar manager-owner exclaims, “Old and rare whisky only!” You would be forgiven for assuming this won’t be one of those warmth inviting experiences of small mahogany-clad single room bars, but the thought of venturing further outside compels you to sit regardless. Upon closer inspection, you notice those 70's bottles from yesteryear, like the White Horse Distillers Lagavulin and a Blair Athol solely for the Italian market. Not only Scotch as the manager explains, “This wall is Single Malt, that wall is Grappa, and that wall there is Brandies, Cognacs and others”. Feeling the initial trepidation subside, you begin scanning the shelves for the first round. “Let’s start with a Glenburgie and Glen Scotia”, you murmur. Once clear that you seemed to know something about whisky - or at least pretend to - the manager gets to work providing water on the side and some chocolates, along with the tasting glasses. 

Glenburgie and Glen Scotia, Bow Bar, Sapporo. (January 30th 2026)

“How did you find this place?” The manager asks. 

“Just a Google search for whisky bars in Sapporo… We spend quite a lot of time in Hokkaido for the winter, but not so much time in Sapporo”, I mentioned in reply. 

The manager offers a hot towel with a chuckle, “It’s cold outside right?” I explained that it’s not too bad for me, since I’m from Scotland - I always mention that in whisky bars for two reasons: first, because my accent has disappeared and I don’t want anyone to think I’m English, and secondly, I was hoping it would prompt some sort of reaction, at the very least to break the ice. Clearly the irony of his cold demeanor mirroring the weather I was trying to escape was lost on him. 

Old Armagnacs adorn the shelves of Bow Bar, Sapporo.

Instantly the manager asks, “Which city?” 

“Edinburgh”, I replied. 

He goes about his business returning to the Japanese customer at the bar, the only other there during this cold night. It seems that mentioning Scotland has not had the desired affect. Usually owners and managers in places like this are quick and excited to chat with patrons and fans about their collections, how they got started, what their favourite drams are - so far no luck. 

For the second round, I order the 8 Year Old Blair Athol and the Lagavulin. Immediately he proudly produces three different Lagavulin's. I select the 12 Year Old, 1978, bottled by the independent bottler White Horse Distillers. 

Lagavulin 12, White Horse Distillers and 8 Year Blair Athol, Bow Bar, Sapporo. (January 30th 2026)

“Don’t see many White Horse Distillers bottles anymore”, I unexpectedly remarked. 

The manager’s eyes twinkle. Finally it felt as though all the snow and ice in Sapporo had started to melt away, more metaphorically than literally. At first just a trickle of snowmelt as he tells me he lived and worked in Edinburgh for 10 months in the 90's and had visited as many distilleries as he could. Next thing we were floating away downstream as he explained that every year he goes to Bologna to find forgotten Italian-market bottles from the 70's. Clearly the manager-owner knows his stuff and is well connected, after all, the selection in the bar is well and truly vast and rare - on the shelf behind me is at least twelve different Port Ellen's. I also spied a Mortlach 22 Year Old that he won’t let me try since there’s only but one glass' worth left. He’s not tight fisted; he opened a new bottle of the Lagavulin after all. He’s just protective and wants to keep his bottles on the shelves for as long as he can. In some ways, I could relate, perhaps all of us could.

To finish, a Glenfarclas 22 Year Old from 1969. Rich, deep, lingering. The damage? US$300 for 7 tasting glasses of Scotch sporting 70's vintages. No menu. No price list. Expensive for your casual drinker, practically a steal if you’re a whisky nerd. 

The final lineup, Bow Bar, Sapporo. (January 30th, 2026)

You realise his exclamation upon entry was not out of rudeness but of honesty. He just wanted to make sure you knew what kind of place he’s running. And fair enough. What started with a welcome as icy as the streets of Sapporo, turned out to be a bar and a man filled with knowledge, history and most importantly that evening, warmth. 

Authored by Ross Garner.

Find him at @spiritsocialclub