Personal Touch: Mimice: The Restaurant in Zagreb That Time Forgot (And You'll Love It)-Cash Only, Chaos Included

 

In the heart of Zagreb, at Jurišićeva 23, there's a small place called Mimice that feels less like a restaurant and more like a secret passage to another era. It's a place that speaks to the soul, not just the stomach. While others chase the latest trends, Mimice stands still, a steadfast beacon of authenticity. Here, the world’s frantic pace melts away, replaced by the comforting rhythm of yesterday.

I’ve been a regular for two decades, drawn by the promise of perfect deep-fried fish and superb fried squid. My order is a ritual: a side of half-and-half—potato and bean salad—and a firm 'no bread,' a small rebellion against their comical, pay-extra rule. Every visit is a journey back in time, a warm embrace from a past that never left. The quality of the food has remained untouched by time's relentless march. You know exactly what you'll get, a certainty that is a rare and beautiful thing in this ever-changing world.

The humor of the place is its greatest charm. The semi-dark basement with its antique, awkward tables and uncomfortable high bar stools feels like a stage set for a forgotten play. The old transistor on the bar, a relic from a bygone age, whispers the tunes of Radio Sljeme, weaving the spirit of old Zagreb into the very air. The cook and the waitress, who seem to have been there since the beginning of time, are a timeless comedy duo, their slow, unhurried movements a quiet protest against modern efficiency. Tourists, fresh from glowing online reviews, walk in and are instantly bewildered, their wide-eyed confusion a source of private amusement. They expect polished service and sleek decor, but instead find a beautiful, chaotic reality where time has stopped in the late seventies.

The service, while seemingly rude, has a charming, almost rebellious quality. “Come on, you’ll pay when you eat. I don’t feel like walking to the cash register,” the waitress once waved from the bar, her voice a warm and familiar command. Her words are not an apology but a trust, a recognition of my status as a kindred spirit, a "neighbor." The separate cash booth, an anachronism from the days of old movie theaters, adds to the delightful disarray. It’s a place where you're not just a customer; you're part of a shared experience, a quiet conspiracy against the modern world.

The owner, Ante Mimica, is the soul of the place. He’s been working here since he was eighteen, his kind, vital energy a constant presence. He calls me “the neighbor” and knows everyone who walks through the door, a testament to the deep bonds forged here. This place is a living tribute to a time when people were there for people, when the quality of the food and the warmth of the company mattered more than the speed of service or the aesthetics of the space.

This spirit of camaraderie reminds me of the classic comedy series Cheers, where everybody knows your name. It's a place where the simplicity of two types of beer, three juices, and a few wines is more than enough. When the food arrives on those small plates, threatening to spill over, none of that matters. It’s a movie story, a scene from a classic film that has the depth of a good melodrama with a positive outcome. As the great French writer, Marcel Proust, once said, "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes." At Mimice, every visit is a rediscovery of something simple and true.

The first Ante Mimica, the father of the current owner, opened this tavern in 1945. He loved fish and knew that people would appreciate a simple, good meal with their glass of wine. He started with fried sardines, and from that humble beginning, a legacy was born. The menu grew slightly but remained dedicated to simple, delicious fare. The absurd charge for bread is part of the initiation, a small fee to enter the time machine, a story where the collapse of a system at first glance is just the beginning of a beautiful, chaotic journey.

Notable Zagreb personalities, from writers like Ranko Marinković to poets like Dobriša Cesarić, have surely graced these tables, seeking solace and sustenance. The tradition of Zagreb, the quiet rebellion against fast-paced living, is alive and well here.

Thank you, Ante, for preserving this story, for not giving in to new standards. Live long, for when you leave, the soul of Mimice will go with you. It is a place that shows us that the most important things in life are not the latest trends but the timeless connections, the simple joys, and the quiet beauty of a perfectly fried piece of fish on a small plate. It’s a place where we are all neighbors, all friends, and all, for a little while, home.

What's a place that you've been to that feels like a time capsule?

@travel.and.liv Ako želite osjetiti pravi zagrebački street food s dugom tradicijom, svratite u Mimice! 🐟 Ovaj kultni restoran počeo je 1945. kao vinarija, a samo četiri godine kasnije postao je poznat po prženoj ribi. Mama mi je pričala kako bi tamo svaki petak s prijateljicom prije sata tjelesnog došla na crno vino. Ribice su bile prilog. 😅 Danas, više od 75 godina kasnije, njihov jednostavan meni i autentičan interijer savršeno je mjesto za uživati u 'pravom' duhu Zagreba. 💙 Bilo da uzimate ribice za van (da, njihova jela su idealna i za takeout), ili odlučite sjesti unutra i uživati u domaćoj atmosferi, Mimice nude neponovljiv doživljaj. Raspon cijene je od 5-9 eura. Sačuvajte ovu ideju za brzi i fini ručak. 📌 #zagrebfood #ribicekodmimice #streetfood #zagrebeats #zagreb #familytime #rucak #food #Inspiration #fy #fyp #idejazarucak ♬ original sound - Travel&LIVe