Despite the back-to-office plotting of corporate overlords, some measure of hybrid work has finally been normalized for legions of us worker bees.
Even for those forced into a full-time cubicle-land commute — and the productivity theater that goes with it — many folks really are just clocking out earlier. The paradigm had been creeping into pre-pandemic work culture for some time, and the Covid inflection point secured the scenario as the modern modus operandi.
The knock-on effect for the hospitality industry? A disruptive shift toward early-bird everything: drinks, dining, dance parties. What it even means to be a bar or restaurant in any major market appears to be undergoing a generational transformation.
But while this early-bird and hybrid-work drift may be antagonistic to traditional post-dinner pours and late-night lingering, is all this frontloading really that bad for business?
From the heartland to the coasts, the answer to that depends on whom you ask, where they are, and what they’re doing to survive the shift.
The National Early-Bird Landscape
While a change in after-work drinking culture seems to be universal across the U.S., it varies depending on the town, vibe, and venue.
Once a sleepy Rust Belt city, the American crossroads of Indianapolis has seen a staggering renaissance in its drinks and dining scene over the past two decades — thanks in no small part to its booming reputation as a top-tier sports town. In addition to the expected wing-slinging and beer-chugging of countless sports bars, sophisticated dining and cocktail operations have taken root throughout Indy.
But Blake Fogelsong, owner and director of operations for Clancy’s Hospitality and its polished Art Deco supper club The Fountain Room, has felt a disruptive early-bird shift sweep in over the past few years.
He describes the pre-pandemic evening structure as driven by the classic weekday 9-to-5 commuter crowd and weekend revelers. Now, with altered work days and fewer commutes, the energetic spike of the evening has shifted dramatically. “Four to 7 has become the new social golden hour. Thursdays are the new Fridays,” he says. “Guests aren’t waiting until 8 to eat anymore — they’re easing into their evenings with a cocktail, a snack, and a conversation before heading home.”
It’s not that the traditional dinner and drinks hours are dead, per se, but he describes them as “steady,” as opposed to buzzing. What has fallen off substantially, though, is the late crowd. “[It’s] far softer than pre-Covid. The 9 and 10 tables don’t book out like they used to,” he says. “So Fridays aren’t dying — they’re compressed.”
“People definitely come out for happy hour — or in our case aperitivo hour — which we run from 3 p.m. to 5 p.m. But that business seems to be in addition to, rather than instead of, the after-work or prime-time dinner audience.”
Over on the West Coast, Paul Einbund, owner of San Francisco’s adored beverage-centric bistro The Morris, laments the lost predictability and social energy of his restaurant’s traditional prime-time hours pre-2020. “During the pandemic we all cooked more. That’s a great thing,” he admits. “[But] what’s lost is the idea of socialization. It’s not as strong as it once was.” While his patrons haven’t shifted right up to the 5 p.m. open, they’re definitely coming in significantly earlier. As for late diners, they’ve all but vanished.
What’s more concerning, though, is the developing weekend crapshoot. “The craziest thing is some weekends have been soft. I’ve never seen that before in 36 years working in restaurants,” he says. “But then the next week, we pick up again.”
In an odd counter, though, weekdays randomly pop off out of the blue. And with reservations for The Morris now only ticking up the week of, lack of predictability has become a major challenge for Einbund as an owner-operator. “No one is making plans anymore. It’s mostly last-minute dining,” he says.
Meanwhile, New York City’s lauded cocktail bar maven Greg Boehm has also felt a significant drag on the weekends. And while his buzzy Superbueno and Katana Kitten have seen less of this movement — though he says it’s still happened to some degree — his more leisurely venues have experienced a very real change in timing for the nightly pop, necessitating a realignment of staff expectations. “More date night places are skewing earlier,” he says. “At Mace, which is more of a date spot, 6:30 is the new 7:30.”
For aperitivo-themed early-bird joints, though, the shift has been a bonanza.
“Good operators do well. Places that are better-run are doing fine. It is challenging, though.”
L.A.’s Bar Bacetti and its Roman-inspired aperitivo program are having their moment in the sun. “People definitely come out for happy hour — or in our case aperitivo hour — which we run from 3 p.m. to 5 p.m. at Bar Bacetti,” says owner Jason Goldman. “But that business seems to be in addition to, rather than instead of, the after-work or prime-time dinner audience.” The concept is clearly in demand, and spritzy early-bird successes like Bar Bacetti portend an assumed surge of similar openings seeping inward from the coasts.
Drinks and Dining as Theater
Smart operators are actively working to adjust to the new paradigm. In the bar and restaurant game, survival is dicey at the best of times — and those stubbornly clinging to the old status quo under the current circumstances may find themselves bereft of sufficient patrons to keep the ship afloat.
The problem, though, is deciphering new patterns when a big old bucket of randomness has been dumped on the equation. “One week things bounce back and we think we’ve returned to where we once were, then the very next week it all crashed down, and we have a record slow week,” Einbund says. “No rhyme or reason that we can see.”
His approach has been to proactively generate interest and take risks, as opposed to passively waiting for guests who may or may not materialize on any given night. “Our job is to keep things fun and exciting,” he explains. “Lots of events, lots of guests, lots of programming in general.”
Boehm in New York has taken the idea of self-generating interest a step further by emphasizing the bar as a theater on a nightly basis — the bartenders a cast of cocktail mastery. His primary inspiration? Tokyo. “I spend a ton of time [there]. People aren’t in a rush to get their drink,” he says. “The entertainment is in the way the drink is shaken, the way the drink is stirred, the way the drink is garnished. There have to be some theatrics.”
“Things are starting to shift to later again. We’re having to change our staffing to accommodate more of a late-night crowd.”
He’s doubled down on intimacy and entertainment in his venues, and is convinced that smaller spaces now have the advantage. “How many people have a view of the bar?” he asks. “That’s the stage.” The approach is a sort of all-inclusive beverage theater that he believes can keep the seats full beyond early-bird hours.
The Bottom Line for Drinks Programs
But with changing spending habits and altered socializing windows comes a substantial shift in actual orders from distributors. Without that, even entertainment-savvy operators may find themselves tied to a cinderblock of languishing inventory.
After-dinner drinks are fading or poured at home, and on top of it all, boozing budgets in general are shrinking. For many, having that nightcap at home is just financially more viable, and those high-end home collections built up during the pandemic aren’t going to magically drink themselves.
Fogelsong in Indy says that even his high rollers have tightened the booze budget belt and left much of their higher-proof slow sipping for home. “After the pandemic, folks got used to drinking better, not necessarily more, and they stocked up accordingly,” he says. “Instead of a $22 amaro pour or $28 single-barrel after dinner, they’re reaching for that half-full bottle of Blanton’s or Clase Azul sitting in their cabinet.”
That means the on-premise emphasis is now trending more toward refreshing and lively drinks — offerings that feel a touch more appropriate for that 4:30 p.m. bar visit. Venues have already begun leaning into the trend, with places like Manhattan’s The Noortwyck implementing a Bar Bacetti-style “apéro hour” starting earlier in the afternoon, and adding more low-ABV, spritz-adjacent cocktails to the menu to tap into aperitivo-fueled success.
For Einbund and The Morris — with its legendary Chartreuse and Madeira collections — there’s been some immunity to the higher-proof pullback, and the wine list has always been a strong draw. But even that aspect, despite its renown, has taken a hit, and the restaurant continues to adjust to each blow.
The universal sentiment is that adaptation on all fronts, paired with proactive generation of interest, is now indispensable to survival. “Good operators do well,” Boehm says. “Places that are better run are doing fine. It is challenging, though.”
Over the past few months, however, something strange has been popping up in his spreadsheets. “Things are starting to shift to later again,” he says. “We’re having to change our staffing to accommodate more of a late- night crowd.” His guess? Despite years of decline, traditional hours and fuller nights might be making a comeback after all.
Does that mean the early-bird, aperitivo-fueled shift is just a flash in the pan on the grand timeline of drinks culture evolution? Or will the theme stay viable even if the culture reverts back to old-school hours? If Boehm is right, we may be about to find out.
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