“This used to be a carpark,” says my guide, Simona Skubic from Turizem Ljubljana, gesturing to the leafy square in which we are standing. To my left, an old couple contentedly read books next to each other on a park bench. Children squeal and run through the towering trees as the dappled midsummer light flecks through the canopy. It’s hard to imagine that this now vibrant community space was once a bastion of modern automobiles.
In fact, the entire centre of Ljubljana used to, much like most major cities, have diesel-plumbed arteries running through it, disrupting cobblestone streets and historic squares with the incessant rumble of engines. In 2007, the city cut off 12 hectares of land from vehicles, only allowing pedestrians and bikes along the streets. At the same time, they invested in public transport and cycling schemes, and renovated areas like the square I’m currently standing in, Park Zvezda, putting the parking spaces underground and ensuring the above-ground area is a green and peaceful place for locals to spend time outdoors. At the time, only 47% of residents supported the scheme. Now a whopping 97% are completely against reopening the city centre to cars and other vehicles.
Hiša Franko exterior
Suzan Gabrijan
Portrait of Ana
Suzan Gabrijan
Strolling through the streets of the old town, the benefits are immediately obvious. It’s a sweltering afternoon, day five of a heatwave that has been slowly cooking central Europe, and yet cafes, restaurants and bars are overflowing with customers, spilling out onto the streets, soaking up the early evening sun. Earlier that day, the weekly Friday Odprta Kuhna market on Pogacarjev square saw almost seventy of the city’s best food and drink vendors peddling their wares to hungry locals and visitors. From wild boar saucisson and Slovenian dumplings to craft beer and Slovenian natural wine, if you wanted it, chances are the market had it.
Slovenia is proving its food and drink scene more than stands up to its neighbours
Largely flying under the radar from a culinary perspective, Slovenia has come out swinging in recent years, proving that its food and drink scene more than stands up to neighbouring countries like Italy and Croatia. The arrival of the Michelin guide in 2020 helped with that, but there really is one preeminent name when you talk about eating in Slovenia: Ana Roš.
Chef and owner of Hiša Franko in Kobarid in the country’s west, a short drive from the Italian border, Ana Roš is so much more than just an exceptional chef. When her ex-partner, Valter Kramar, inherited Hiša Franko – which, at the time, was a modest eatery famous for its cold roast beef – Roš, with limited experience, took over the kitchen. In many ways her lack of professional kitchen time was her greatest asset, allowing Roš to work without inhibition to create a menu and a restaurant that fulfilled her vision of Hiša Franko being a destination rather than a stop-off. Where perhaps years working in other people’s kitchens might have drained her inherent creativity and talent, instead Roš was able to channel her natural affinity for flavour and unique perspective on food into a restaurant that quickly drew international attention, praise and awards.
Mountains in Kobarid
Jošt Gantar
In 2016, Roš was the subject of an episode of the much-loved Netflix television series Chef’s Table when the show was at its peak. In it, journalist Anna Morelli bemoans the fact that Michelin isn’t in Slovenia and never will be because, she says, Roš’ cooking is more than worthy of three stars. The following year, Hiša Franko debuted on the World’s 50 Best Restaurants list and Roš was named the world’s best female chef. Three years later, Michelin came to Slovenia and awarded the restaurant two stars. The following year it received its third.
I meet Roš in the lobby of AS Boutique Hotel in Ljubljana where her restaurant, JAZ by Ana Roš opened in October 2023. Designed to be a more informal take on the flavours that she cooks with at Hiša Franko, it’s a welcome addition to the city’s growing dining scene. While many lauded chefs – particularly those at a three-star level – carry themselves with a sense of pretence, Roš is almost disarmingly friendly, welcoming me warmly before she departs for Kobarid to prepare for our visit there the following day. Dinner at JAZ is a fitting prelude to the Hiša Franko experience, and a small insight into Roš’ exceptional approach to cooking.
A zingy ceviche of Adriatic fish comes laden with sweet, juicy summer peaches and crunchy buckwheat, while a classic Waldorf salad is reimagined in a pool of bright kefir dressing, ideal for soaking up with a piece of sourdough from Pekarna Ana (Roš’ bakery around the corner). Meaty, pearlescent sardines arrive draped on vibrant slices of tomato and splodges of oyster mayo on a stoic, pillowy slab of focaccia and, in an homage to the original Hiša Franko dish, rosy folds of roast beef are served simply with peppery rocket leaves and crunchy seeds. Showstopper plates like pasta made from leftover bread served with Istrian tomato sauce and tagliolini in a tom yum sauce with delicate shrimp tartare hint at Roš’ penchant for breaking the rules in pursuit of big flavour.
The Odprta Kuhna market in Pogacarjev square
Jošt Gantar
The following morning, after a run along the Ljubljanica (those lucky locals with their abundance of natural space), and a quick refuel by way of poppy seed basque cheesecake and a kimchi and cheese croissant at Pekarna Ana, we hop into a van and set our coordinates for Kobarid.
A two-hour drive from the city, Kobarid has quietly established itself as a culinary hotspot. The journey from Ljubljana takes you through verdant inclines, alongside bubbling rivers and a series of hair-raising switchbacks across some of the country’s most exceptional scenery. Yet arriving in the small town is just as breathtaking. Hugging the alpine-fed Soca river, the town sits in the valley between the Krn and Matajur mountains, with peaks rising into the distance wherever you look. Despite the heatwave leaving landscapes parched across the continent, the region seems impossibly green. Verdant forest climbs up scabrous peaks and emerald water sluices across bleached rock through steep gullies.
Verdant forest climbs up scabrous peaks and emerald water sluices through gullies
For decades people have travelled to Kobarid to immerse themselves in that green, hiking the surrounding peaks, and cycling the narrow mountain roads. Recently, though, they’ve been coming for a more sedentary purpose: eating.
There is, of course, Hiša Franko. But in between visitors to the restaurant needing other spots to eat when they’re not dining there, alongside hungry adventurers looking for places to refuel, Kobarid has discovered an appetite for good food. Roš’ ex-partner has a gastropub and microbrewery in town called Hiša Polonka, where you can eat his parents’ classic roast beef dish and local soft cheese on toast with blistered tomatoes and wash it all down with house-made lager or Slovenian natural wine. Along the main street (if you can call it that) sits Topli Val restaurant, a bastion of seafood cooking, taking advantage of the exceptional fish that comes out of the Adriatic. Across the road, meanwhile, you’ll find Drink Slo Wine. Opened by Alen, the former sommelier at Hiša Franko, the wine shop spotlights the country’s incredible wine producers – many with a natural-adjacent or skin contact focus.
Hiša Franko sits on abundant land, which blooms into a multitude of greens
Suzan Gabrijan
And then there is Hiša Franko itself. As you arrive, it’s immediately apparent that you’re about to experience something special. Like an oasis in the fields, the restaurant seems to be ensconced by the region’s mountainous landscape. Diners are encouraged to begin their meal with an aperitif on the lawn to take it all in, before transitioning inside. The food itself is superlative; equal parts simple and complex, straightforward and mind-boggling, futuristic and classic.
Take the hay-baked potato, for example. An exercise in the value we place on food, these potatoes are grown on a small scale in the Slovenian mountains and harvested at a specific size for the restaurant. They cost €1 per potato. It seems like an insane amount to pay for a vegetable that tends to cost the same for a whole kilogram, but Roš tells us she was happy to pay because, as the farmer says, why is a tomato worth more than a potato? It takes as long to farm. Who tells us what a vegetable is worth?
That potato is cooked simply. Baked in a salt-infused hay crust, it’s served with sour cream and honey, the idea being that you scoop off chunks of potato, dip them in the sour cream, gently add the honey and then sprinkle a tiny amount of the shell on top for the perfect amalgamation of sweet and salty. It’s sublime. In many other restaurants, it might seem ridiculous; here, in Ana's kitchen, it just seems right.
Interior of Hiša Franko
Suzan Gabrijan
It’s easy to see why people talk about Ana Roš with such reverence and why Hiša Franko has won so many awards. Much of the fine dining world remains trapped in a stuffy bygone era lacking both ingenuity and intrigue. Not here. Roš’ food speaks both to the location in which it’s cooked – many ingredients are sourced by the restaurant’s in-house forager from the surrounding hills – but also to a refusal to conform. The food at Hiša Franko is unlike any you’ll eat elsewhere, in Slovenia and beyond, and that is a very good thing.
Much like its radical approach to city design, Slovenia is also carving out its own gastronomic path, too. This is a country where most wine is natural – not because it’s a marketing gimmick, just because it makes it taste good – and food looks outward, without forgetting where it comes from. From the cafes in the capital to a small, outdoorsy town in the mountains, this might just be Europe’s most exciting new food destination.
