Journey
My first workplace
(May 2022 — December 2022)
In May 2022 I had just finished school and was picking up the occasional shift as a loader. I never thought I'd end up behind a bar — it happened pretty spontaneously. A friend asked me to fill in for him at a café, doing something like a barista role. I said yes.
I was a complete zero at it — scared, confused, and slow to pick things up. Thank you to Katya for her patience; she was my colleague and something like my first mentor. She taught me how to dial in the grind, steam milk, and nail the coffee basics. That café is where I learned to make a decent cup. I even got to the point of doing basic latte art.
It was a vegan café with a focus on healthy eating — besides coffee, smoothies and detoxes were big sellers. Even working there, I never felt like a bartender. Something between a barista and a drinks dispenser. I wasn't planning on leaving — everything was slow, no real growth, but STABLE, and that was enough for me at the time. Then the end of the year rolled around, and it all changed. Vegan desserts and smoothies were still pretty niche back then, sales were low, and the owner decided to pull the plug — giving everyone a lovely New Year's gift: no job.
So there we were, hit with this "wonderful" news that we needed to find new jobs fast. Through our administrator's connections, we got in touch with the bar manager of another place — and they happened to be looking for bartenders. He agreed to take me and Katya on as bar trainees.
(January 2023 — August 2023)
My second workplace
The year was over, and there I was, starting my traineeship at Julien (Julien Gastro Bistrot). It was a restaurant-celebration — that's how they positioned themselves, and it really was that for the guests: high level of service, interesting and beautifully presented dishes, waiters all speaking with a French accent, and a kitchen that was somewhere between Moldovan and French. In the evenings the format shifted — the chef would make a speech, and what had been a restaurant with great food and sharp service would turn into a party venue. DJs would show up, everyone would dance, the place packed out.
(In the photo is Yura, my ex-colleague and current friend — but he's not the one I'm talking about in the story below.)
And somewhere in the middle of all that, in walks a very green me: "Hello, can I make you a cappuccino?" I had to learn fast — spirits, cocktails, new techniques, all of it. There was one funny moment early on. One of my first shifts, I barely know where anything is, and they tell me: "You're working the party tonight — and you're paired with a bartender who's only ever done day shifts." So for both of us, this was uncharted territory. What went down on that shift was something else — I'd never experienced that kind of chaos before, and neither had my partner, even though he'd been at Julien for a few months already. It was something.
(On the left is Adrian, the bar manager — on the right is Nikolya, he's the one who invited me to another place.)
Julien had a lot of great people, some of whom became close friends — we're still in touch. There was bar manager Adrian, who taught me a lot and was just genuinely great to work with. We have plenty of good stories together.
(These are the waitstaff — they're the ones who created that great atmosphere.)
Time passed, I got my cocktails and spirits down, and started feeling a lot more comfortable. But as we know, all good things come to an end. Internal issues started to surface, things got heavier and heavier for me — at some point supplier work landed on my plate on top of everything else, the shifts kept piling up, and I started burning out. So at a certain point I told the guys: I'm leaving. By then I already knew where I was going — one of the waiters who'd been let go was already working at a new place and had been calling me over.
So I worked out my time and left quietly — and I was one of the few who walked out without a scandal and on my own terms. To sum up what I got out of Julien: I learned to make cocktails (more or less), I figured out how to work with suppliers, I got a basic handle on spirits, and somewhere along the way I actually started enjoying what I was doing.
September 2023 — July 2024
My third workplace
I went in for an interview with Yakov, the bar manager at Daisy, got through it without any issues, and started my traineeship shortly after. Daisy was somewhere between a café and a restaurant — solid kitchen, and that's where I met one of the most brilliant chefs I've ever come across, Leonid. I didn't recognise his talent straight away and didn't quite get his approach to running a kitchen. He's a particular kind of person — but over time it became clear: the man is a genius.
Daizy was a place that really thrived during terrace season, and that's where I learned to work multiple fronts at once. The bar — you can see it in the photo above — was divided into rough zones: coffee and tea, cocktails, beer, and fresh juices. During the busy rushes you had to keep jumping between all of them. Things at Daisy were stable, and I didn't have much to worry about. I was getting deeper into spirits, wines, and beer — really starting to build a solid foundation. A special thanks goes to Yakov: he was an old-school bartender, not particularly into modern techniques, but when it came to the basics of spirits and alcohol, he brought me up properly. And beyond that, he was just a genuinely good person.
(That was City Day — a brutal shift.)
During my time at Daizy I sharpened my knowledge of spirits, improved my service behind the bar using what I'd picked up at Julien, and got my first real experience with a contact bar — something new for me at the time. Then came the turning point: towards the end of my time at Daisy, I started experimenting more actively with drinks, getting into new techniques I hadn't used before. But that's where two generations collided — old school and new school. I felt it was time to move on and learn something different. Right around then, my friend Yura (the one with the drawn-on moustache and monobrow) told me that a cocktail bar was looking for a bartender. It was one of the best cocktail bars in Chisinau — and it still is.
(And that's where two different worlds met.)
I was genuinely scared — afraid I didn't know enough, that I wouldn't be able to cut it. But I pulled myself together and reached out to the bar manager at Kasaroz, Dima. We met, talked it through, and before long I started my traineeship. At that point I was juggling two jobs, still finishing out my shifts at Daisy for a while.
July 2024 — January 2026
My fourth workplace
This is where the most interesting part of the journey begins. Casaroz is a cocktail bar with a fully contact bar setup, focused on original, interesting and unusual cocktails, and a warm, welcoming atmosphere. Since opening, only two bartenders had worked there — Dima and Tolya, plus one barback. They were looking for replacements because they had decided to open their own bar — which has long since opened, that's Bar 27. The replacements were supposed to be me and Danu; Danu was working at Covor at the time and was looking for something new.
(Here I was charging the cream whipper — and didn't release all the nitrogen first.)
The traineeship started with Dima and Tolya showing us how they made everything — various new techniques. For me it was a whole new world: I was discovering milk washing, fat washing, how to make different cocktail foams, and more. It was fascinating. But the pressure on me and Danu was enormous: Kasaroz was a well-known and popular bar, and we had to maintain the cocktails at the same level — at the very least.
The traineeship ended, the guys left for their own project, and the reins passed to us. In parallel, I was working hard to close every gap in my knowledge and skills — reading as much as I could, putting things into practice, and regularly turning to more experienced people for advice.
(This was a cocktail inspired by Vincent van Gogh.)
Casaroz gave enormous room for experimentation and freedom to act. We were always trying to do something new, something unusual, something interesting. Some experiments worked, some didn't — but regardless of the outcome, it was experience, and experience is invaluable, as long as you actually learn from it.
I tried not to miss masterclasses, going out to fill in the gaps in my knowledge. While I worked there, I felt a real sense of responsibility: I didn't want to let down a guest who asked me about gin, or rum, or anything really — a good bartender should be prepared. I kept studying, reading more and more.
(This is us at a lecture in Athens, at a bar show — that's Tolya and Dima next to me.)
I want to talk about service separately. Being good at cocktails and knowing your spirits isn't enough — the guest needs to leave feeling good. Their evening should be better for having come to you: that's why we stand behind the bar. This is where I learned to read guests better, understand what they actually want, and be more attentive and perceptive.
Over my time at Casaroz, I built up a number of regulars who come specifically for me, to drink specifically my cocktails — and that means a lot.
Over my time there I met a huge number of people — all kinds of interesting characters came through those doors. One evening, a high-profile guest was celebrating his birthday, and the President of Moldova, Maia Sandu, stopped by — I was surprised, to say the least :) At Casaroz I also met Ksenia, my wife: she was a guest, and I would make her various riffs on classics, sometimes naming cocktails after her. And while I was still working there, we managed to get married. Another point in favour of paying attention to your guests — you never know how things might turn out :)
(My staff shirt, with my favourite cocktail on it.)
Ksenia and I started thinking about opening our own place — this was still while I was working at Casaroz.
We were developing the concept, working out the idea, putting together a business plan, spending a long time searching for a space and looking for an investor. Then the moment came: we found a space and decided to commit to the project properly. I told the guys I was planning to open my own place, worked through January, and left.
(December — February)
An attempt to open our own place
As I mentioned, we spent a long time searching for the right space — one that would also fit the concept — and as soon as we found it, we took it on lease so we wouldn't lose it. It was a historic building from 1861, and it was perfect for us. The place we were planning to open was called "History CBC" — Cafe, Bar, Community. We wanted to put the history of Moldova, and Chisinau in particular, at the heart of everything. The idea was ambitious: beyond the venue itself, we wanted to build a historical community, collaborate with museums, create exclusive events, and much more.
We had already set up a company, hired an accountant and auditors, and begun the full process of converting the space from residential to commercial use — not a quick process. Then somewhere around January, we lost our main investor. We had to start looking for a replacement: meetings with different people, messages sent, calls made, searching and searching — and we never found anyone to fill that gap. All that time spent searching was burning through our own money. We found ourselves in a pretty rough situation — I hadn't expected to lose an investor we'd already had a solid agreement with.
We were burning through money and scrambling for ways to earn it back and find an investor. By that point we had found another partner to work on the project with us, but even as three of us we couldn't attract investment. The deadlines were pressing: if the commercialisation process had gone through, there would have been no way back — that was the agreement we had with the owner of the space. We'd already had to convince her to let us operate there in the first place, and she agreed because she genuinely loved our business plan. Then came a pivotal moment: my wife and I decided to fly to Cyprus for a few days to clear our heads. While we were there, we had an honest conversation about where things stood and what position we were in. We had to make a decision: do we keep losing money and keep hoping to find an investor, or do we close the project and accept all the losses we'd already taken. By the end of that conversation, we had our answer: we're closing the project.