I’m in a nice old-fashioned bar, drinking beer on wooden tables and enjoying a hearty meal. The decor is Balkan folklore, except that the wooden table tops are covered in red checkered fabric.
Instead of frying, I dive into a pile of shredded beef sausage chevapi and absorb the shots raki, local plum brandy. In one corner, an accordion player is breathing musically, his friend is playing Gypsy melodies on the violin, and people are dancing on the tables. Welcome to your head.
Kafanas are the taverns of Serbia: a restaurant, pub and music venue operating from morning until late at night. Regulars come for a lively breakfast before heading to work, families hold weddings and celebrations here, business deals are made and sadness drowns in dark corners. They were so central to people’s daily lives that your friends and the postman would come to find you at your local kafana, not at your home.
Kafanas were home to poets, artists, and singers who traded their talents for a living.
Unfortunately, many traditional kafanas closed in the 2000s, partly due to their reluctance to prioritize making profits over letting regulars sit at the same table all day. However, just as struggling British pubs have turned to gastronomy, kafanas have adapted their offerings to survive, heralding a culinary comeback. I follow a renewed kafana tour with seasoned experiences in the heart of Belgrade Bekrija – regular kafana – Goran Magdić from local tour operator Taste Serbia.
We start the day with breakfast at Znak Pitanja, which means “question mark”, the city’s oldest kafana, which started life as an Ottoman coffeehouse in the 16th century. Housed in a low-rise building, the cozy restaurant with wood panels and overhanging lintels is located opposite one of Belgrade’s oldest churches. They got in trouble because patrons called it “the bar next to the church,” so a “?” and I never bothered to rename it. At low tables we are served barbecued Turkish coffee followed by a fiery shot of raki, said to be the key to longevity in the Balkans. After that come cheese omelets and pies, soft layers of bread, fried dough. usage type and smoked meats.
The Ottoman style of this kafana is just one of the many influences found in Belgrade’s diverse streetscape where east meets west. Opulent art nouveau and neoclassical facades are balanced by megalithic blocks from the communist era. Kafanas also evolved into three different styles.
Some lean eastward, with hearty Balkan cuisine and rowdy Gypsy trumpet bands. Others are Austro-Hungarian-style, serving dishes like goulash with stringed instruments and accordions setting the mood. More recently, nightclub-style kafanas have emerged, transforming traditional music into turbofolk and attracting a young, entertainment-inclined crowd.
Later Turbofolk: For now I’m exploring Skadarlija, a cobblestone street that was once the city’s bohemian quarter. Here the kafanas were home to poets, artists, and singers who were inspired by the lively cast of characters they encountered and traded their talents for a living. One of the most legendary was Toma Zdravković, singer of Dva Jelena restaurant. Grainy videos from the 1980s show him fuming, wandering from table to table and cooing to adoring customers. Now it is cast in bronze like a statue in Skadarlija, and people leave flowers and cigarettes at its feet.
For a hearty lunch, we head to nearby Srpska Kafana, a bar for the actors of the nearby Atelje 212 theatre. Goran told me that during the Yugoslav period the Serbs would be so busy that a famous thespian Zoran Radmilović, a sort of Serbian Terry Jones, would sit next to the toilet stall when he found it occupied and entertain everyone there with his impressions. “WC mafia” – penny-hungry Balkan toilet attendants.
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We are thankful that we have a table and not Radmilović’s toilet. chevapi and melted and sautéed grilled meats kajmak (a variety similar to sour cream) is served by old waiters in timeless white shirts and black vests. Serbia’s cuisine is meat-oriented, but vegetarian options are also available, such as baked sauerkraut, grilled red peppers, and delicious soups. Dessert is a mix of Bosnian, Turkish and Central European desserts: cakes stuffed with walnuts and dripping with syrup, baked apples.
After this, I need an after-dinner walk in the Tašmajdan park with its fountains. On the way there, I stop in front of the red-and-white-checkered telephone switchboard building and realize that it looks exactly like a tablecloth for your head.
As night falls, it transforms into your head once again. Lamps shine from the windows and the music begins in earnest. We grab a beer at SFRJ, a restaurant full of Yugoslavian paraphernalia overlooking the Danube, and gaze out at the twinkling lights of the city.
The music evokes tremendous emotions among local elders: hands wave in the air and eyes begin to shine
Considering the violent end of Yugoslavia and the brutal role played by Slobodan Milošević’s Serbian paramilitary forces, it is uncomfortable to be surrounded by Tito’s paraphernalia. Serbia has never fully reckoned with this dark past, and sentiment praising war criminals is today turning into pro-Russian tendencies in more than half of the population. But here an orchestra rocks in the corner; musicians play Bosnian, Croatian and Serbian folk songs, as well as Yugoslavian hits of the 70s, on request. The music evokes tremendous emotions among local elders: after a few strong drinks, hands wave in the air and eyes begin to shine.
The band ends around midnight, but I want the party to continue, so head to one of the new kafana-inspired “turbofolk taverns” BAM club. Traditionalists are snobby about these points, but to me they show how kafana continues to evolve and captures the essence of Belgrade’s nightlife, combining hedonism and nostalgia. I go down to the packed basement where local legend Paganini plays: a Romani musician who plays the electric violin. People shower money on the band, it’s an act of vanity but it’s done in the spirit of fun. High energy turbofolk beats keep me dancing until the wee hours. The only possible remedy the next day is breakfast raki.
Taste Serbia offers a new kafana tour €60