Let’s get one thing straight: Sarma is a way of life, not a seasonal event.
We need to talk. Not about politics, not about the weather—something far more controversial: the myth that sarma is only for winter. Excuse me? That’s like saying pizza is only for Fridays or that rakija is only for weddings. Lies. All lies.
“But it’s too heavy for summer…”
Heavy? You just ate a triple cheeseburger from a drive-thru in January wearing shorts. Sit down, we’re having sarma.
Look, we’re not suggesting eating it on the beach (although… now that we say it…), but a well-made sarma is like a culinary hug. And who says no to a hug in July? What, your summer body can’t handle one little cabbage roll? Please. It’s got meat, rice, fermented cabbage, a hint of rebellion—it’s basically a Croatian power bar.
Sarma Is the Original Meal Prep
You want to meal prep? Sarma lasts for days, gets better every time you reheat it, and doesn’t complain like quinoa or that sad grilled chicken. It doesn’t judge you when you come home at 2am and stab it cold with a fork straight from the pot. Sarma is there for you, winter, spring, summer, or after an ill-advised night out in November.
Summer BBQ? Throw a Sarma on the Grill!
OK, maybe don’t literally grill it (unless you’re a genius—then send us the recipe), but why not serve sarma at a barbecue? People will lose their minds. “Wait, what’s this delicious, smoky, tangy meat roll thing?” they’ll say. And you’ll casually reply, “Oh, just something my baba used to make… no big deal.” (It is, in fact, a very big deal.)
Bonus: you instantly become that person who brings The Dish. You know the one. Every gathering, they’re like: “Is Ana bringing that sarma again?” That could be you.
Cold Slices of Pizza Are a Thing. Cold Sarma? Elite.
It’s 35°C. You’re lying on the couch in a heat-induced coma. You open the fridge. Cold sarma. You eat it. You feel alive again. It’s zesty. It’s refreshing in a weird way. It’s like fermented cabbage saved your soul.
You haven’t lived until you’ve eaten cold sarma in your underwear, fan blowing, with a spoon because the forks are in the dishwasher.
Sarma Transcends Time, Temperature, and Judgment
Let’s be honest. No one eats just one sarma. You always say you will. You lie to yourself. You fold that one cabbage roll politely on your plate like you’re in some Michelin-star restaurant… and then you’re elbow-deep in the pot like Gollum finding the Ring.
That’s not seasonal. That’s spiritual.
Final Argument: Baba Wouldn’t Approve This Seasonal Nonsense
Your grandmother didn’t spend three hours rolling 50 little meat logs so you could wait until snow falls to enjoy them. She made sarma because it was good, because it feeds an army, and because real love is stuffed into pickled cabbage leaves and simmered until it melts in your mouth.
So next time someone says, “Sarma’s only for winter,” you know what to do:
Smile politely.
Hand them a plate.
And say: “Welcome to the revolution.”
Sarma is forever. Not just for snow days.
