Learning

One of the most common questions I get is: “Where did you learn all this?” And honestly, it’s not a simple answer. The first real source of knowledge for me—like I’ve said before—was a book by David C. Schomer, Espresso Coffee: Professional Techniques.

That was it. After that—I was on my own.

Back then, the internet was barely a thing. There were no coffee YouTube channels, no fancy barista tutorials. So I started walking into coffee shops. Watching. Asking questions. Some folks shared bits and pieces, some didn’t say a word.

As you might’ve guessed, the place that inspired me most was a café called Coffee Pirates. I kept going back, and at one point, I took a two-day “Barista” workshop there. That gave me my very first real intro into coffee prep. But let’s be honest—those workshops are more like orientation. They don’t really teach you how to work. They don’t turn you into a pro.

What’s funny is—I paid a good chunk of money for that course. And this was during a time in my life when every cent mattered. But I made a decision right then: this wasn’t going to be a sunk cost. I was going to make that money back and multiply it. And I did. That moment definitely pushed me toward finally opening my own café. I just couldn’t let that investment go to waste. 🙂

Truth is, that course just showed me which buttons to press and where the coffee goes. But how to make every single cup taste amazing? Nobody taught me that. And I get it now—because back then, they didn’t know either.

Still, at the time, anyone in Vienna who was making specialty coffee felt like a god to me: Evelyn and Werner from Coffee Pirates, Robert from People On Caffeine, Otto from Balthasar, the folks from ZÅMM and CaffèCouture, and of course, Valentin and Boris from Kaffeemodul. I was in awe of what they did.

When I finally decided to open my first coffee shop—while I was still looking for a location and ordering my gear—I tried to get a job at some of these places. I really did. But… none of them hired me. And to this day, I don’t get it. It hurt.

I mean, if someone came into my café every day, drank coffee, asked questions, and then applied for a job—not once, but two or three times—I’d hire them on the spot. People like that are rare. You don’t let them walk away. (But we’ll talk more about that another time.)

There’s also this: a year and a half after opening my first café, I took a two-day “informed barista” course from 2009 World Barista Champion Gwilym Davies, near Prague. I didn’t learn anything revolutionary, but the course helped me organize what I already knew, and I finally got answers to the questions that had been building up. Gwilym’s a fantastic teacher—and just a genuinely kind human. It was a great experience.

Early on, when I was still just thinking about coffee—still in the foggy dream phase—I read about a Ukrainian guy, Vadym Granovskyi, who won a coffee competition in London for making coffee in a cezve (you might know it as an ibrik or Turkish coffee pot). I looked him up online, reached out, and he actually shared his method with me. That sparked my love for cezve coffee.

That passion eventually led me to Reinhard Grebien—who won silver twice at the World Cezve/Ibrik Championships. We became friends, and I’m grateful for every idea and tip he gave me along the way. Honestly, he was the one who really introduced me to the professional coffee world—championships, key people, the whole scene.

And of course, over the years, I’ve met a ton of people in the coffee industry—friends, colleagues, acquaintances—and every single conversation taught me something. Always something new to take in.

But my biggest teachers?

My customers.

They showed me the direction. I just kept trying. Over and over.

In the beginning, I must’ve thrown out dozens of coffees right in front of people while they waited, half asleep. I ground kilos of beans just to dial in the right grind. I spent hours chasing the right water temp, the right pressure, the right ratio. On and on. But with every mistake, there were fewer the next day. And the coffee kept tasting better.

That’s how I learned.