Mountain Flavors: More Than Survival
Gastronomy as the Genetic Code of the Highlanders
On the harsh heights of the Dinaric Alps, where Slavic tribes have shared their destiny with pastures and wolves for a millennium and a half, food was never merely about survival. It is a reflection of culture, a silent witness to history, and an invincible creative response to scarcity.
By: Jelena Krivčević
In this ethnically diverse space, where Illyrians, Romans, Celts, Ottomans, and merchant caravans left their marks, an authentic mountain gastronomy was born—one that is not learned from books but inherited like a genetic code. The common thread connecting all people from the Montenegrin katuns is the need for hearty, high-calorie food. In a world where frost, deep snow, and hard physical labor are daily realities, a meal had to provide strength.
Mountain cuisine hides a touching truth: it was born from poverty. It was precisely this poverty that forced the highlanders into incredible creativity and a reliance on “wild” ingredients gathered in forests and meadows.
Our mountains, however merciless, were also bountiful; they fed the people with what could be harvested in moments of greatest hardship. The journey to the wooden table we sit at today was long and unusual. Through the centuries, the “dining table” adapted to nomadic life and the cramped space of the mountain huts (koliba).
In small village houses, space was precious. Therefore, the sofra—that low, round wooden table—was the perfect solution; after dinner, it would simply be hung on the wall. For the mowers and harvesters racing against rain clouds, the table was the bošča—a hand-woven woolen cloth. Unrolled in the shade, it was the precursor to every modern picnic, carrying the scent of homemade dairy and freshly baked bread.
The palm is perhaps the most sacred table of the mountain. A shepherd walking for miles sits on the grass and pulls a piece of bread and an onion from his bag. That morsel nourishes both body and soul more than any lavish banquet.
On the mountain, every piece of bread is respected. It is a gift of nature and the result of hard labor, inscribed in folk proverbs that warn: “there is no greater misery than an empty stomach.” Our table is not modest, even when it holds only a hot potato baked in ashes with a bit of kajmak. It is magnificent because it is inseparable from the people who prepared it and the nature that brought it forth.
Today, as we slowly return to a “more natural” way of life, we are beginning to appreciate once again what we have always had: spring water so cold it makes the teeth ache, the morning freshness of the katun, and the taste of homemade bread that many remember as the dearest scent of their childhood.
The Montenegrin mountains are not just geography. They are a world of extraordinary beauty where all senses find delight. For the mountain, despite its occasional ruthlessness, crawls into your heart. It is impossible to live without it.
From Bjelasica and Komovi, across Prokletije and Durmitor, to Sinjajevina and the Tara Canyon—each of these spaces carries its own story of survival and enjoyment. Returning to these flavors is a return to ourselves, to the traditions that shaped us, and to the nature that continues to nourish us so generously.
Jelena Krivčević
Jelena Krivčević has been working in international and local organizations on various projects since 1999, mostly in Montenegro but also with 6 years of experience abroad. In different roles and positions, she has worked on the implementation of multi-million dollar projects in the fields of community development and economic growth in Montenegro and Georgia. She has provided consultancy services for USAID projects in Georgia, Serbia, and Kosovo, and has worked on the preparation and implementation of over 30 EU-funded projects. She has been at the head of RDA BKP practically since its founding, building it with her team into a respectable and successful organization.
