TASTES OF CROATIA IN HESS
Croatian food has been called a “cuisine of regions.” Cooking in different parts of the small country reflects its history as a crossroads in the Balkans.
Inland areas have dishes that show Turkish and Austro-Hungarian influences. People on the Adriatic coast eat meals inspired by Italy — Venice in particular — and Greece.
But, as is true of neighbouring countries throughout the peninsula, charcuterie is a given. They eat meat. That point is driven home on the menu of Konoba, a Croatian restaurant that opened in Hess Village a couple of months ago. The name means “wine cellar” and that’s fitting since Konoba is in the renovated basement of an older building.
The feel is definitely that of a bar — dim lighting, loud music, tall tables and tall chairs — but the walls and floors have been impeccably tiled and dining details include real cloth napkins (all too uncommon these days).
Konoba is a husband-and-wife operation, modelled after a similar Croatian restaurant the couple opened in Toronto a year ago. She’s the front of the house, he does the cooking.
And that food, as mentioned earlier, is a carnivore’s delight. On my recent visit, the main dinner menu listed just eight dishes, one of them squid and the rest meat, with a heavy emphasis on pork. The owners have already realized that in Hess Village, with its younger demographic, you have to have meatless options, so they will be adding the likes of a grilled mixed vegetable platter, zucchini pasta and burek (think flaky pastry stuffed with cheese) as early as next week.
My experience with Balkan cuisines has been that the traditional dishes are hearty and flavourful and rustic, the food of people who don’t have a lot of money and who work hard on the land. The fare at Konoba is more sophisticated than I had expected, but still has that salt-of-the-earth quality. They approach things in a traditional manner, too. The free-range meat is ground on the premises daily. Garnishes such as pickled red cabbage and pickled onions are made in house.
We chose two classics for the dinner, the beef striganoff — the name they give this version of the Russian icon — at $15 and the cevapi plate ($13).
The striganoff arrived as a big portion of tender beef strips, sau- téed mushrooms and assorted root vegetables spooned over noodles and accompanied by a scoop of rich cream cheese. The beef was peppery and excellent, the vegetables were tender but not mushy, the cheese added a nice spike of cool creaminess to the mix.
The plate, however, was ice cold (I gather it can get quite frigid back in the kitchen on a winter’s night) and that chilled the food itself very quickly. A hot plate would have elevated the dish immensely, but it was still hearty and very good.
I’ve had several variations of cevapi in different places both here and in Europe over the years, and the way they do it at Konoba impressed me. Cevapi is basically ground and highly seasoned meat shaped into sausages and grilled. In some places it’s beef and lamb; the Croatian version here is beef and pork, with a good dose of garlic and black pepper.
The plate held nine hefty cevapi (I could only eat half and took the rest home), which were nice and juicy and not at all greasy or fatty. What took them to a special height was the house-made sweet and sour pickled onions alongside. Those were spectacular, and pointed the meat beautifully. I’ve had other versions of the dish where the accompaniment is simply chopped raw onions, and those are way too pungent.
Also crowding the presentation were scoops of cream cheese and ajvar (a tangy red pepper paste pronounced I-var), chunks of a fluffy/crisp grilled bread called lepinje, and earthy, skin-on Yukon gold fries. Only the fries were a bit of a disappointment, as they were rather limp.
It’s also worth mentioning the unusual alcohol choices. Yes, you can get familiar beers and carafes of decent house wine, but Konoba has a special selection of privately imported top-end Croatian wines (be prepared, they cost from $55 to $150 a bottle), and the star of the bar is about a dozen different bythe-glass rakia, the famed, potent “schnapps” found all over the Balkans (I liked the cherry and the honey rakia the best).
I left Konoba quite satisfied, not to mention full. This is not the kind of food I could eat every day, but it is very tasty and offers another layer of diversity to Hamilton’s restaurant scene. By all means, you owe it to yourself to check it out.