A country’s history has implications far beyond its political make up: it weaves its way into the fabric of an entire society, permeating through language, through generations of family, and of course, through food. 

Across the world, these cuisines have been blended throughout history, with immigration, war, colonialism and the rise and fall of empires impacting the way societies, regions and entire nations eat.

Istria, the western Croatian peninsula, is not immune from the vicissitudes of conquering and fate. For a huge part of the peninsula’s history, it was under the rule of the Republic of Venice and before Venetian rule, the Romans controlled Istria, developing small cities like Pula and Rovinj to make them suitable for cross-Adriatic trade.

The Histri people – from where the peninsula derives its name – were said to have traded with their Mediterranean neighbours to the west more so than their Thracian cousins to the south, greater solidifying a Mediterranean connection, while the Franks, Hapsburgs and Byzantines each left indelible traces on the region's culinary and cultural identity.  

That level of cultural exchange among Croatia's neighbours spans many centuries, and can still be felt today. Fuži pasta, a handmade shape not dissimilar from penne, is a mainstay, as is Maneštra, a soup similar to minestrone. Polenta too, found throughout Venetian and southern European recipes, is common in Istria. They all serve as reminders to Croatia's culinary history, the inflections which have impacted the region and how this became the gastronomy celebrated today.  

Olive oil has been made in Istria since before the Romans. On the dozen-or-so islands that comprise the picturesque Brijuni national park, evidence of olive oil production from the Byzantine era still stands. As does an oven, over 2,000 years old, alongside vessels for the fermentation of wine. Istrians are, and always have been, a people with food, trade, and a respect for the land at their core.

Over the decades, Istria has slowly grown from a hotspot mostly known (and frequented by) western and southern Europeans, into a global destination in its own right, with world-leading gastronomy at the heart of any visit.

Snaking along the narrow white roads which connect the sporadic hilltops villages near picturesque Vrh and Hum (known as the world’s smallest town), secluded vineyards and idyllic restaurants begin to reveal themselves. 

Nevio Sirotić runs one such restaurant. He goes by Nevio, or more often, maestro, and serves just a handful of tables a day (perhaps three or four at most). The restaurant, Tokalarija is open when he wants it to be and follows a formula of Istrian gastronomy. Things begin with a walk around the smallholding adjacent to the restaurant: only a few dozen rows of courgettes, brassicas, peas, herbs and tomatoes are planted. The operation is too small a plot for any restaurant bigger than Nevio’s, little wonder he only serves four tables. 

That day the only table was reserved for us to savour the food, the views and the sound of the cicadas. Locally made hams with an even dispersion of fat that would make any charcutier swoon came with both a locally-made hard and soft ricotta cheese, honey from the garden and crisp, fried cauliflower.

The herb oil was rustic, cropped from a dill plant about 20 feet away. Maneštra soup, a mainstay of the Istrian diet, followed. The maestro stumbled upon his technique for this dish quite by accident; one day he forgot the beans for the maneštra were on the hob, stewing and bubbling away and when he returned from his morning’s work, he found they had disappeared. The stew had completely broken down all of the beans, creating a thickness and creaminess unlike any other maneštra. It went straight on the menu. 

The pasta course is next, another Istrian staple. The dough is made fresh, to order, with just flour and water, rightfully centering local truffles as the star of the show.