Why the kitchen? Why people? Why stories?
I was fortunate to grow up among people who deeply valued togetherness, humanity, storytelling — and, to be honest, they could talk — with food as an inseparable part of all of it.
They passed that way of thinking and living on to me from a very young age, and throughout life I’ve had the privilege of meeting others who carried that same spark in their eyes whenever a good story was told at the table.
Thanks to them, I was able to continue nurturing that spirit of connection, gratitude, and storytelling.
My second blessing is my home — Trogir, or more precisely, the island of Čiovo.
I grew up surrounded by the sea, olive trees, vines, the old komin, and people with a unique way of expressing themselves — both in the bright, beautiful moments full of light, and in the less pleasant ones that teach you humility.
That place, that land and sea, shaped me just as much as the people around me.
They taught me to see food as part of one’s identity, not just a meal.
The kitchen became my second — perhaps even my third — calling.
After finishing my engineering degree at FESB and working in the field, I realized that in that world, conversation, warmth, and the human element often take a back seat.
But ever since I was a child, it was ingrained in me that the table is where people connect — where both laughter and silence are equally respected.
Through a series of “fortunate” or simply unexpected circumstances, I ended up in hospitality, then in the kitchen — and very quickly learned how powerful it is when a single plate can be connected to a story.
A story that fills it.
A story that opens it.
A story that takes you back to a place, a scent, a person.
Many of my stories come from personal experiences, memories, moments caught in passing — from the way the sun falls on the fish market, from the crackling of the komin, from conversations that last longer than you planned.
And I believe it is exactly that story that completes every dish, giving it soul, meaning, and a reason to exist.
In the photographs, a moment is captured in which Aunt Ruža selflessly shares her experiences and memories, patiently teaching me how to translate all of that onto the plate — so the flavours have a chance to live.
Because a dish without a story is just food.
But a dish with a story becomes an experience.
That is what I want to give.
And perhaps that is the answer to all three “why’s.”
THANK YOU ❤️
They passed that way of thinking and living on to me from a very young age, and throughout life I’ve had the privilege of meeting others who carried that same spark in their eyes whenever a good story was told at the table.
Thanks to them, I was able to continue nurturing that spirit of connection, gratitude, and storytelling.
My second blessing is my home — Trogir, or more precisely, the island of Čiovo.
I grew up surrounded by the sea, olive trees, vines, the old komin, and people with a unique way of expressing themselves — both in the bright, beautiful moments full of light, and in the less pleasant ones that teach you humility.
That place, that land and sea, shaped me just as much as the people around me.
They taught me to see food as part of one’s identity, not just a meal.
The kitchen became my second — perhaps even my third — calling.
After finishing my engineering degree at FESB and working in the field, I realized that in that world, conversation, warmth, and the human element often take a back seat.
But ever since I was a child, it was ingrained in me that the table is where people connect — where both laughter and silence are equally respected.
Through a series of “fortunate” or simply unexpected circumstances, I ended up in hospitality, then in the kitchen — and very quickly learned how powerful it is when a single plate can be connected to a story.
A story that fills it.
A story that opens it.
A story that takes you back to a place, a scent, a person.
Many of my stories come from personal experiences, memories, moments caught in passing — from the way the sun falls on the fish market, from the crackling of the komin, from conversations that last longer than you planned.
And I believe it is exactly that story that completes every dish, giving it soul, meaning, and a reason to exist.
In the photographs, a moment is captured in which Aunt Ruža selflessly shares her experiences and memories, patiently teaching me how to translate all of that onto the plate — so the flavours have a chance to live.
Because a dish without a story is just food.
But a dish with a story becomes an experience.
That is what I want to give.
And perhaps that is the answer to all three “why’s.”
THANK YOU ❤️