Croatia
Two coastlines of flavour in one country — the salt-and-lemon Adriatic, and the smoky, paprika-warm interior.
Start on the coast, where lunch is whatever came up in the nets that morning: a whole fish laid straight on the grill, olive-branch smoke curling off the coals, eaten at a plastic table an arm’s reach from the water. This is cooking the Venetians would recognise — a few good things, unhurried. Order crni rižot and your teeth turn gleefully black with cuttlefish ink; order buzara and you’ll be mopping garlicky, wine-loosened shellfish juices with torn bread long after the shells are empty.
Drive inland and Croatia changes accent completely. Here the prize is peka — meat and potatoes sealed under a heavy iron bell, buried in embers and left to surrender for hours; you order it the day before, because the good stuff can’t be rushed. Come autumn, Istria’s oak woods give up white truffles to shave over hand-rolled pasta, and the local olive oils quietly out-score Tuscany’s. Come hungry, and leave a little in love.
- peka
- crni rižot (black risotto)
- pašticada (red-wine beef stew)
- buzara (shellfish in wine & garlic)
- Istrian truffles
- rožata (custard pudding)
