The Journey

I was born at the very edge of Russia, where the Far Eastern winds carry the scent of lakes, forests, and ancient quiet. Babstovo — a small point on a vast map — is where my long journey began, a road that, without knowing it, shaped me just as I shaped my first dishes.

Later, the path led me to the Caucasus — to warm, welcoming Dagestan. There I learned a simple truth: food is not only flavor, but the character of the people who make it. Sharp as mountain peaks, honest as a conversation on a doorstep, generous as a table set for a guest.

The Northwest greeted me differently. Saint Petersburg — a city of rain, winds, and gentle lights — taught me patience, attention, and respect for detail. There I began to refine my craft: not simply to cook, but to strive for perfection, each attempt bringing me a little closer.

Then came Turkey and Georgia — two neighboring worlds, similar and different at once. There I learned the magic of spices, the depth of broths, and the sacred duty of honoring traditions. The Caucasian feast, the Turkish fire, the Georgian soul — all became part of me, part of my road.

Every stop along this path enriched me, as new chapters enrich a beloved book. With care and reverence, I gathered recipes, tried, failed, tried again, until I felt that quiet certainty: “Now — it is right.”

Thus Nómada del Este was born. I am the Nomad from the East, carrying the taste of my journey to those willing to hear a story told through fire, aroma, and the depth of Eastern cuisine.