Two weekends ago, Manila’s nightlife acquired a pulse you could practically hear with a stethoscope, caffeinated, carbonated, and obviously intoxicated. The diagnosis, Philippine Cocktail Week 2026. The most compelling symptom presented itself at Banter and Jive in Poblacion, Makati — my so-called home bar, a dimly lit sanctuary where the tropical walls sweat charm and the music hums just loud enough to encourage poor decisions.
On takeover night, the place behaved less like a bar and more like a high school reunion. Three hours before service, there were already hopefuls orbiting the entrance, forcing management to commence 30 minutes early. A queue lingered outside for most of the evening, the kind of orderly impatience usually reserved for limited-edition sneakers and airport immigration gates. Inside, bodies pressed politely against the bar, elbows negotiating territory. Crowd control, I learned, pairs beautifully with Campari.
This leg of the festival belonged to Kathmandu. Barc Cocktails had taken over, led by founder Abishek Tuladhar and co-founder Adarsha Man Tamrakar. If Philippine Cocktail Week trades in cross-border exchange, these two arrived fluent. Abishek shook with monk-like concentration; Adarsha moved with the mystic authority of someone who understands that thirst does not negotiate. For one night, Poblacion felt gently annexed by Nepal.
The "Ayla Sour" opened proceedings, Monkey Shoulder and Barc’s Spiced Ayla folded through chai and lime, finished with a red wine float that bled into the foam like a well-rehearsed sunset. It was spiced, layered, faintly dramatic. The "Khattu Highball," Hendricks, Barc’s Khattu Mix, Campari, soda, stood tall and bracing, unapologetically bitter in the way grown-up drinks should be. Small talk sharpened around it.
Then came the provocations. "Mosambi Caffine," Glenfiddich 12, sweet lemon, coffee, yuzu, tonic, managed the improbable feat of being both bright and brooding, citrus colliding with caffeine like jet lag cured properly. "Orange Sandeko" fizzed in with sesame, spice, orange, triple sec and CO₂, aromatic and textured, a drink that insisted on a second, more attentive sip. These were not novelty pours drafted in for spectacle. They were structured, deliberate cocktails that knew their own architecture.
Yet the true intoxication was atmospheric. Banter and Jive glowed, low amber light, glassware catching reflections, bartenders in smooth choreography. Laughter ricocheted off the walls. Strangers leaned in closer than etiquette might normally allow. It felt less like a shift and more like a small, civilized riot.
“A full room is always exciting, but what stays with us is watching people reconnect with cocktails in a meaningful way,” said Banter and Jive owner Panjee Singleton. “Philippine Cocktail Week reinforced that thoughtful bartending still makes an impact, and that guests, whether new or experienced, are still open to being surprised by quality and intention.” Surprise, she admitted, ran both ways.
“Our guests came in with open minds and palates, not knowing what to expect from Nepalese cocktails. The bartenders, on the other hand, came in a little apprehensive on what flavors to bring since they knew beforehand that what they bring to the table is very different from what we Filipinos are used to. Safe to say that Abhishek and Adarsha were pleasantly surprised that the guests wanted to know more and wanted to taste more intense flavors from their menu. In the end, everyone just surprised each other and had a good time talking about cocktails!”
And that is perhaps the neatest summation of Philippine Cocktail Week 2026, not merely packed bars, but conversion. Regulars defected from their usual orders. First-timers asked about timur pepper as if it were an old acquaintance. The line outside refused to thin. Curiosity, given a platform and a shaker, showed up early.
If this is Poblacion at full tilt, crowded, ambitious, faintly unruly, then the city’s palate is no longer tentative. It is restless, and quite ready for its next pour.