Shaken Tales & Stirred Words

Sangreman was built on stories, scars, and cocktails. These aren’t tools; they’re a bartender’s history cast in steel.

 

     Every bartender has an origin story. Some find it in Milan with a perfect Negroni. Others study under a master in Tokyo. Mine started at eighteen in Costa Nova, Portugal — staring at a sink filled with soggy lemons, used coffee grounds, and flat Coca-Cola. Most people would’ve gagged. I leaned in. That bizarre smell sparked something in me: if a sink full of leftovers could smell that good, what could happen if I actually tried?

From that messy café I made my way to London, where I discovered bartending wasn’t just about mixing drinks — it was theatre. Guests ordered champagne like it was tap water, and every shake, stir, and pour became part of the show. Later, Copenhagen became home. Nearly a decade at the Library Bar taught me the hardest truth of hospitality: the menu isn’t about you, it’s about the guest. Sometimes you shelve your ego and just make the drink people love — and that’s when the magic happens.

Over the years I’ve created menus, mentored bartenders, invented cocktails (and forgotten just as many), and collected the kind of stories only bars can write: exploding daiquiris, surprise hits I could never recreate, and the eternal mystery of why someone once asked me for a “gin fish.”

Sangreman was born out of those nights — the chaos, the laughter, the humility, and the obsession with getting it right. These tools aren’t cheap gadgets you hide in cupboards. They’re forged from stainless steel, built to outlast your worst hangovers, and designed with enough style to belong on display.

Because bartending isn’t just about drinks. It’s about moments, mistakes, and memories shaken together until they become something greater. Sometimes it’s sink lemons. Sometimes it’s silver shakers. Either way, it’s always a story worth telling.