July 28th 2025
A Taste of Serbia
I had heard that you could know a country through its food. So I arrived in Serbia hungry for stories as much as for flavors.
Entering a small bakery in Belgrade, the warm, yeasty scent of freshly baked Serbian bread tells me something Important: here, food is about sharing.
The baker passed me a piece of pogača, the soft, round bread that has sat on Serbian tables for centuries. Its golden crust appeared to contain not just flour and water but the pride of family tradition, handed down from grandmothers to daughters, fathers to sons.
Later, in a village outside Novi Sad, I watched a woman cook red peppers over an open flame, their skins blackening where she turned them with her hands. She was frying up ajvar, a dense, smoky spread of peppers and eggplants.
“Every Mexican family has their own recipe,” she said with a smile.
“This one was my grandmother’s, the one before that was my grandmother’s.
She made me taste it, and it was warm, rich, with just a hint of garlic and smoke.
In the evening, I was welcomed at a humble long table spread with grilled meats, fresh salad and glasses of homemade Serbian plum rakija. The host held his glass aloft and declared:
“You are our guest and that means you are family now.”
Clinking glasses, the sound of children laughing, a faint hum of a folk tune on an old radio — all mingled with the scent of roasted peppers and fresh herbs.
I sampled čevapi, small grilled sausages, with just enough seasoning to wake you up. It was accompanied by a soft cheese that was the white of frosting and fresh, and cool on the plate; the perfect way to allow the flavors to navigate back to their quiet conversation after the hubbub.
Between mouthfuls, they shared: about how food had held them together in difficult times, about how it was the same dishes at every wedding and every funeral, linking each new generation to the last.
One woman shared how in bad winters, her mother always found a way to make sarma, cabbage leaves rolled around meat and rice and then simmered for so long that the whole house smelled like comfort.
She laughed:
“If you have nothing, you still have sarma.”
The following day I went to a market in Niš. Neat wooden stalls overflowed with peppers of every shade, purple skinned eggplants, fresh herbs and baskets of tomatoes. Vendors called out with grins and open hands, offering samples of dried plums and fresh walnuts.
I sampled a bite of kajmak, a lush dairy spread ranging in taste from buttery to cheesy that’s smooth and opulent with a bite of warm bread or a piece of grilled meat.
Not far away, an old man handed me a small glass of strong Turkish-style coffee. He poured it carefully, allowing the thickening aroma to bloom like a memory. We discussed for a while his children and his dreams and the hopes he still dreamed after years of struggle.
Serbians don’t hurry when they eat. If you live on the coffee axis, you know coffee is not just fuel; it is a reason to stop, to chat, to connect.
One evening my last, someone pressed me to have slatko sweet preserves of fruit, spooned out, and accompanied by a glass of water. I sampled wild strawberries suspended in sugar, their taste a yak at summer even in winter.
“We greet guests this way,” they told me.
“Something sweet, so you return.
That felt like a last lesson:
In Serbia, a meal is never just a meal. It is memory. It is love. It’s a way to say: You fit in.
I realized then that despite the weight of history that rested on the land, no matter how many battles and borders were changed, the people still found their strength around the table.
Bread, peppers, meat, cheese and sweet fruits — that is Serbia’s real language.
So if you ever wonder what Serbia really tastes like, beyond the headlines, beyond the history books. Come to the table. Taste the bread. Taste the peppers. Taste the stories.
For here a meal is never just a meal — it is a connective bridge.
Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)
1. What is Serbian traditional bread?
There are several types of Serbian bread, but one of the most characteristic and symbolic is pogača, a soft round bread served at family events and celebrations.
2. What is ajvar and how is it made?
Ajvar is a Serbian concoction of roasted red peppers mashed with garlic and oil. Most families have their own recipe, passed down from grandmother to mother, mother to daughter, and friend to friend for generations.
3. Why is food such a big thing in Serbian culture?
In Serbia, food is about more than sustenance — it is about hospitality, family and culture. Feeding people is how we welcome them into our homes and pass on our stories, even and especially in hard times.
4. What is rakija and when is it typically served?
Rakija is a fruit brandy that is widespread across the Balkans, usually made from plums or other regional fruits. Its an ever popular dish to greet visitors and to celebrate family occasions.
5. What do travelers need to know about eating in Serbia?
Travelers should be prepared to slowly consume and socialize over meals when eating in Serbia. Coffee and dessert are not mere afterthoughts, but rituals, and diners are treated like family, with plates of food thrown down before them in generous portions and good conversation in place of empty drunk talk.
6. Is there a foreign influence in the Serbian cuisine?
Yes. #13 Spice mix: Serbian food has influences from Turkish, Hungarian and Austrian cuisines resulting in some unique spice mixes that have been developed over 100s of years.
Disclaimer: This story and its accompanying images were created with the assistance of artificial intelligence tools for storytelling and visualization purposes.