How to eat and drink your way around the Dubrovnik Riviera

‘I hope you’re hungry,’ crows a fisherman, setting down a plate piled high with freshly shucked oysters. They say you should face your worst fears head on. Well, here I am addressing mine – but I never thought it would be done in quite so idyllic a spot.

I’m in Mali Ston, a small, picturesque town on Croatia’s Pelješac peninsula, about an hour’s drive from Dubrovnik. It’s 9.30 a.m. and many shops are still shuttered, but already Game of Thrones fans are out in force, taking selfies along the hillside’s 14th-century network of towers and fortresses. (The three-and-a-half-mile walls doubled as King’s Landing and the Eyrie in the fantasy drama.) Yet I’m among fanatics of a different sort: wine buffs and foodies, taking a break from the more formal restaurants of Dubrovnik’s Old Town to sample the best of the Dalmatian coast’s cuisine at source. In a few hours’ time we’ll be heading west into the vineyard-strewn valleys to drink as much Dingač as we can at some of the region’s 40-plus wineries. But for now we’re on a small fishing boat, sailing into the oyster and mussel farms to try the Ostrea edulis, or European flat oyster, which Croatians claim ranks among the best seafood in the world. Plucked straight from this nutrient-rich water, they’re eaten raw and, for the most part, ravenously; lemon juice is frowned upon and woe betide any unsuspecting tourist who asks for a splash of Tabasco sauce.

As the group’s token – and lifelong – seafood sceptic, I’m wary to say the least. But determined to change my mind is our guide from Bota Šare restaurant, whose owners have farmed molluscs in this part of Croatia for around 500 years. As our guide chatters on, it’s soon clear that oyster growing here is less of a trade than a singular obsession, with a by-hand farming process that takes up to three years, from net to rope and, finally, dinner plate. Each oyster is personally handled between five and eight times before it is ready to be eaten (preferably within a day and a half), following techniques passed down from the Romans.

Reaching the middle of the bay, we clamber on to a small floating bar filled with wooden benches and tables and decorated with hanging fishing nets and baskets of shells. A touch of Dutch courage is needed (I’m preparing to taste my first oyster after all), and we’re immediately offered generous shots of rakija, a traditional (and very potent) fruit brandy, along with glasses of crisp Pošip. Black pots of steaming mussels, coated in garlic and served with thick bread, also appear, alongside candied orange peel and small bowls of fresh olives. The oysters themselves are a little daunting – shells still dripping with water and, once shucked, plump and juicy, with a glossy grey-yellow texture and light salty scent. I tentatively choose one, which our guide prises open and presents to me with a flourish. My moment of bravery soon passes. ‘This one is no good – there’s still a baby inside,’ he says, tossing it back into the water. And with that I’m out – leaving the guide to frown and the rest of the group to work their way rapaciously through the small mountain of oysters in front of us. Everyone is quick to agree that they’re among the best they’ve ever tasted.

With the flavour of rakija (and, for me, failure) in the mouth, we head into the peninsula’s mountainous winemaking region, made up of mostly family-run vineyards, to sample another local specialty. First stop is the informative – if somewhat dry – Pelješac wine museum in Putniković, which houses a collection of centuries-old vinification machinery and artefacts alongside a well-equipped tasting room. Particularly good are the Plavac, a dry red full of cherries and plums, and fruity white Maraština, both served alongside complimentary pršut ham and crumbly hard cheese. For lunch we call in at Saint Hills Winery’s Vinaria tasting rooms and (by appointment only) restaurant on the outskirts of Oskorušno village, where we try its famous Dingač, a spicy, rich red matured for up to two years in French oak barrels; the St Heels rosé, packed with strawberries and raspberries; and St Roko, all vanilla, dark chocolate and figgy notes. Lunch, originally planned as a brief snack, turns into a three-hour, five-course tasting affair, with dishes including fresh calamari, a creamy risotto and tender beef cheek, plus dessert and an extensive cheese board. For our efforts in polishing off most of their supplies, the winery rewards us each with a bottle of its 2016 Dingač – plus a handy travel bag designed to protect it from even the most overzealous baggage handler on the journey home.

Two hours – and a food-fuelled power nap – later, we’re back at our base, the Hotel Excelsior, one of Dubrovnik’s oldest and grandest hotels. Originally a royal villa cut deep into the rockface with arguably the best views of the Old Town, the hotel has long attracted the rich and famous (the Queen, Elizabeth Taylor and Orson Welles ­have all stayed), but the recent addition of contemporary wing the Tower is bringing in a much younger crowd too (many of the GoT cast, including Emilia Clarke, made the Excelsior their home when they were filming the final season). Rooms are sleek and stylish, with grey panelled walls, gold and chrome fittings and pops of pink, yellow and green velvet, plus the obligatory L’Occitane products in the marble bathrooms. There’s an excellent gym and impressive spa, complete with indoor pool, Turkish and Roman baths and an extensive range of treatments, but best of all is the (beachless) private sea terrace, where you can dive straight into the toasty Adriatic, whatever time of year. Although most guests head here mid-afternoon to soak up the sun and enjoy a cocktail or two, try to get up early (we’re talking 6 a.m. sharp) to enjoy a leisurely – and almost certainly lonely – swim as the sun rises above Dubrovnik’s medieval walls and its church bells toll out across the water.

Meals here come with a view, too. Breakfast buffet bar Salin serves everything from fluffy omelettes and cured meats to pastries, fruits and cereals on a sea-view terrace, while Prora, down by the rocky beach across from Lokrum Island, specialises in Mediterranean dishes, such as roasted squid with zucchini pappardelle. Signature restaurant Sensus is a more formal affair, with an open kitchen where you can watch the chefs at work, an extensive Croatian wine list and elaborate tasting and à la carte menus – think scallops with roasted corn cream, and pasta caramelle stuffed with chicken liver, a creation of Italian sous chef Marco. If you’ve had your fill of fine dining and are looking for something a little more homegrown, ask the hotel to help bag you a spot at Kameni Dvori, a farm/holiday villa in nearby Konavle run by the Mujo family, who offer cooking classes in traditional Dalmatian fare. We spent one rainy afternoon picking vegetables in the allotments, pummelling doughs, pounding meats and stirring soups, before sitting down to eat our efforts over a lazy dinner. My own bread ended up in a particularly sorry state – but luckily matriarch Stane, who had already warned me my dough was too sticky, was happy to share her own.

Having eaten our way around Dubrovnik, it was time to cross the Ploče Gate and head inside the Old Town to explore its Roman, Byzantine and Venetian mix. But after ticking off the tourist must-dos – a walk on top of the city’s walls, a visit to the harbour and Rector’s Palace, a selfie on the Jesuit Staircase at Gundulić Square – I had a foodie score to settle. On the last evening, I crept out to a branch of Bota Šare and, on a table tucked down an alleyway, in view of the city’s magnificent cathedral, with no eyes on me and the pressure off, I finally tried those Mali Ston oysters. They were salty, and slightly slimy… and not half bad. I ate three more. Who knows – another trip to the Dubrovnik Riviera and maybe I’ll be a seafood convert.

Rooms at the Hotel Excelsior start from €293 per night