Dear Aussie friends, imagine me trying to explain to you what ćevapi means to Croats. It’s like me trying to explain what a meat pie means to you – except our story is a bit more complicated and far more passionate.
Ćevapi Aren’t Just Food
Many years ago, when I first came to Australia, my new friends asked me: “What are those little sausages made of minced meat?” I told them: “Ćevapi.” They looked at me as if I’d said something in Chinese. “Che-what?”
How could I explain it to them? Ćevapi are like small, cylindrical sausages made from mixed minced meat – usually beef, lamb and pork. They’re grilled and served in lepinja bread with onions, sometimes with ajvar relish, or simply with sliced onions. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? But that’s like saying opera is just singing.
Ćevapi Are Part of Our Identity on a Plate
Every Croat has their own theory about where the best ćevapi are made. Sarajevo’s are second best, ours are always first. My grandfather used to say that proper ćevapi must be exactly seven centimetres long, no more, no less. My grandmother insisted that the meat must be mixed by hand only, never by machine. And they were both right.
When I tried to explain to my Australian friends, I told them: “You know how you argue about who makes the best pavlova – us or you? That’s how we argue about ćevapi, except we have fifteen different cities that claim they invented the best recipe.”
Ćevapi Are a Ritual
Saturday evening, after the match, you go for ćevapi with your mates. It’s not just a meal – it’s a social event. We sit around the table, talk about everything and anything, laugh, discuss politics and soccer. Ćevapi are an excuse for socialising, a reason not to go home straight away.
My Australian friend Alex once said: “Ah, like our barbecue!” No, Alex, you don’t understand. Your barbecue is fun. Our ćevapi are soul.
Ćevapi Are Nostalgia
When I feel nostalgic in Australia, I dream of the blue sea or of my hometown. I also dream of the smell of ćevapi spreading through the street, of the sound of lepinja slapping on the grill, of the waiter asking: “How many pieces?”
But there’s a solution for such ‘dreams’! Excellent ćevapi are prepared in all – and I mean all – Croatian clubs in Australia. I don’t believe there’s a single household that hasn’t grilled ćevapi on their barbecue! (Perhaps only if you’re family members who are vegetarians!)
Ćevapi Are Love
When a lad first brings his girlfriend home to Croatia, his mum will tell him: “Make her ćevapi.” Not tortillas, not a fancy dinner – ćevapi. Because if a girl eats ćevapi with enjoyment, if she understands why they’re eaten with your hands, if she asks for ajvar – she’s the right one.
Some of my Australian friends, whilst visiting Croatia, spent one evening in Zagreb and sat in a small ćevapi joint in Tkalčićeva Street. They ordered twenty pieces with onions and ajvar. By the fourth bite they said: “Now we understand.”
Ćevapi Are Home
Australians, you have your “fair dinkum”, your “mateship”, your “no worries”. We have ćevapi. It’s our way of saying: “Welcome to our family.” It’s our way of celebrating, of comforting ourselves, of gathering together.
Whenever a Croat returns from abroad, the first thing they look for isn’t postcards, isn’t souvenirs – they look for ćevapi. Because ćevapi are the taste of home, the smell of childhood, the sound of a heart beating in Croatian rhythm. Regardless of how many ćevapi they’ve eaten in distant Australia.
So, dear Aussie friends, next time you hear the word “ćevapi”, don’t just think about food. Think about us, about our stories, about our passion. Think about a small piece of Croatia that you can eat.
And if you ever come to Croatia, don’t go to fancy restaurants on your first evening. Go for ćevapi. Because only then will you truly be in Croatia.
Cheers! Živjeli!
Try preparing ćevapi yourself as well:Weekly Recipe: Welcome to the Ćevap Party https://vjesnik.com.au/2025/06/weekly-recipe-welcome-to-the-cevap-party/
