Do-you-brovnik?
An obsession-driven voyage
Photo Credits: The Blog
Dubrovnik, Croatia, is a land of juxtapositions. A mixed breed—a mutt, if you will—of the truest and best of Eastern and Western European substance. After visiting summer of 2024, it has me still compulsively obsessing for more.
For many, Dubrovnik is a glorious hot spot for yachting and island-hopping jet-setters and yet, simultaneously, a time capsule of untainted fishing villages and ancient Roman ruins.
But for me, a voyage to Dubrovnik is a vehicle to quell the grind (even brutal adversity or banality) of daily reality. For the few days that I immersed myself in the culture, food and sea were life-encompassing, from the devotion of those that underpin them—the farmers, fishers, servers, and chefs—to the knowing and (obsessive) appreciation of those who visit it. There, a basic but poetic potency is imbued in everything. And startlingly but relievingly, it awakened a lost tenderness in my heart.
It also startled me how, at 45, I’d managed to miss out on this massive chunk of gastronomic cultural and idyllic life.
I have had my fair share of wine and cheese, of fresh fish, pastries, pungent olive oils and exquisite chocolate. Of yachting and seaside adventure. And trust me when I say Dubrovnik is the shiznik. After days of gloriously irresponsible sun exposure and pag cheese consumption, I’ve officially joined the ranks of lifelong Croatian obsessives. How could I not? This trip was a lavish buffet of all my belovedly obsessive vices.
[Surely there must be a name for someone with my condition. And potentially a pill for it. But as I see it, Dubrovnik can be the tonic for the idyllic idealist foodie-holic, and until we shall meet again, I shall dream and scour the internet for anything and everything Croatian-food-related.]
While sitting down to lunch at Bowa (on the island of Sipan) or dining at 360, I’d wonder. I still wonder. How much beauty and toil, sea and hills, wars and peace Dubrovnik bears in its unspoken memory—from the warmth of its summer sunshine to the intoxicating red or white nectar to coat my lips and throat. With every sliver of magnificent fresh sheep, cow, or goat’s cheese that glorified my plate, I’d wonder whose hands it passed through to grace my existence.
The proud and pristine medieval walls of Dubrovnik’s fortifications, dating back to the 13th century, were wondrous too, and as I wandered through them to an older, more romantic time. One memory stands out, especially, dining with my husband at 360. We sat overlooking a fisherman’s harbor, and like watching a movie, we witnessed an old man returning from the sea:
360—by far Dubrovnik’s best overall dining experience in my opinion—has two seating sections: a more formal side to the left and a less formal one to the right. We dined on two different nights, experiencing both sides—equally wonderful, offering the same menu but with distinct experiences. The flaky pastries from the amuse-bouche portion of our meal literally actualized all my dirtiest pastry dreams, setting the stage for the equally indulgent basil and fish risotto appetizer and lamb entrée I ordered. Both choices were completely out of character for me, but Dubrovnik shook me entirely out of my usual habits. And thankfully, my persuasive skills prevailed, and I convinced my husband to order the dark pig, ensuring I wouldn’t regretfully miss out on that either. And never, in all our meals, did I pass up the opportunity to sink my teeth into fresh or cured Paski Sir (or Pag) cheese. In case you’ve never had Pag, it might be compared to a Machego or tuscan pecorino but infinitely better. There is no overwhelming sheepiness or goatiness and I could easily eat pounds of it. Which I did.
And on to Croatia’s wine scene. So so so sadly unbeknownst to most, it is rich, rich, rich, with over 130 native grape varieties. The Pelješac peninsula, famed for its Dingač wine made from Plavac Mali grapes, is still living within the crevices of my tongue and mind. Try not to miss out if you can. I implore you.
I also loved the surprise of falling into warm pockets of Adriatic, glistening crystal blue waters. The old town glistened too, its ancient stone streets blindingly polished, almost unreal. And like its waters, Dubrovnik’s people are warm and gentle, with crystal blue eyes. I found them to be professional and mannerly. The service truly could not have been better.
And so, in closing, do you brovnik?
Hotels recs:
Excelsior Hotel (within walking distance of the old town and right on the beach)
Coffee:
Cogito Coffee Shop
(Best of luck finding it. I never imagined a coffee shop could be SUCH a doozy to locate. But I was determined, and I triumphed—through the tiniest street nooks, up the tiniest stair nooks, and past the narrowest hall nooks. With no signs or indications to guide me. But it was well worth the effort and adventure. Their brownie-no ordinary brownie—was to obsess over too)
Dinner recs:
360
Posat
Nautika
Panorama
Lunch recs:
Restaurant Dubrovnik (lopud)
Leut
Bowa (sipan)
It’s a 360
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