What Lives Beyond the Impeccable Taste & Light at Slovenia’s Hiša Franko
At the edge of the Soča Valley, one meal becomes a meditation on belonging, presence and gratitude
When I arrive at Hiša Franko it is immediately clear this is not a typical Three Michelin Star establishment. It is warm, intimate and friendly without the slightest trace of pretense. The vibe is welcoming, inclusive and enthusiastic instead of deathly quiet, staid and intimidating. Perhaps the strongest point of differentiation between Hiša Franko and nearly every other special, hard-to-get reservation is the experience of dining there starts long before we ever lay eyes upon it, break the plane of its parking lot or cross the threshold of its front door.
The journey to and through the remote Soča Valley that Hiša Franko has called home for 52 years is at once magnificent and revelatory. Magnificent for how it softly but undeniably immerses us in Slovenia’s beauty and bounty, and revelatory for how it will later come to call upon us to more thoughtfully digest the origin story behind every bite and sip.
By the time we arrive we will have already taken in so many of Mother Nature’s wonders from the Julian Alps to lush fields and pastures to crystal clear rivers flanked by the colors of the season. It would be impossible to sit down for the first course without all five senses recalibrated, harmonized and wide awake. It is a most outstanding start to a most outstanding meal.
One can only assume the journey to and from Hiša Franko, wherever you’re coming from or going back to, is all part of this masterfully directed three-act play by head chef Ana Roš.
The First Act
First there is the light – everywhere the light. It isn’t merely set dressing deployed in vain to spotlight elegantly plated courses, anything but. Instead light plays a central, sensual character in what can only be described as a piquant love story between the origins of Taste and the people who come to partake and fall hopelessly in love with them.
Like any good first act, the drive to Hiša Franko, every twist and turn of it, every breath-stealing moment, primed me to see the light in ways that felt almost like it was the first time I’ve actually ever been invited to do so. Even now, I see it piercing a tunnel of majestic trees planted many moons ago as if by destiny to frame the two-lane highway that now turns into a cozy, world-class restaurant famously known for celebrating the flavors that grow up all around it.
Lingering in the serenity of those 24 hours, I call to mind the faintest light that came to move me there. My shoulders soften as I think about the faintest sparkle of the stars framed by the two big skylights in my room at the Hiša Franko House. Never has a fitful night’s sleep been so contemplative, so rewarding and so restful.
The Second Act
There is no better way to taste than inspired and that I was. I would come take my first bites and sips from the garden patio that connects the Hiša Franko House to the Restaurant. I nibbled on crisps and a puffed pastry and sipped on one of their refreshing homemade Eldersour cocktails. The sun was shining, the air was crisp and I thought it couldn’t get any better until Ana Roš herself came over to welcome me and say hello. Never have I ever.
The Eldersour homemade cocktail from the patio of the Hiša Franko House & Restaurant
In the second act, the staggeringly beautiful Slovenian landscape would continue to play a starring role. A constant and welcome reminder of where I was, the dining room’s floor to ceiling windows did their best to capture the unprecedented loveliness stretched out far and wide all around us.
The briefest moment when the dining room is empty before lunch.
One plate after another from The Footprints Tasting Menu delighted my already piqued senses. When I wasn’t sitting in awe, swept away by the colors of what was in season on plates in front of me like the Garden Leaf & Istrian Truffle, the Autumn Harvest, and the Orzotto; I was doing my best to slow down to savor every last bite and second of dishes like the Tagliolini & Saffron, the Cappelletti and of course the now classic Corn Beignet & Fermented Cottage Cheese.
All the while wine pairings arrived with origin stories and tasting notes. The Nikolas Orange Wine was an absolute standout to me, one of those sips that stopped me dead in my tracks. As the plates grew heavier – Trout then Roebuck – and the pace of dishes arriving slowed down, a series of delectable dessert bites closed out the afternoon. I still think about the texture, the explosion of flavor from my favorite, the Sunflower Seed Spicy Bite. It was so unexpected and so delicious. My mouth waters now thinking about it.
Not wanting the experience to end, I had two nightcaps from the restaurant lobby now lit by a warm glow from the woodburning stove in front of me. I started with a glass of Reia Maria bubbles. Like the Nikolas Skin-Contact wine served at lunch, I desperately wanted to take home a bottle from the Inn’s gift shop. What I really wanted, tariffs aside, was to have a case of both wines shipped directly to my doorstep!
I ended the evening with Ana Roš’ interpretation of my favorite cocktail - the Negroni.
A Negroni nightcap from the lobby of Hiša Franko restaurant
As I sipped and savored being right where I was, I recall feeling so full in every sense of the word. I had found here, and on this trip, such a strong sense of belonging to the world I was moving about in. I had connected with nature in ways I had never done before. Best of all, I had really started to find a way back to myself. In the past, that sense of discovery would have foolishly come with a sense of urgency to act, to worry or to do more of something. But behind the power of intentional travel I seemed to understand instead, the only thing being asked of me was to stay still and stay open. That’s how, after all, I had come to absorb the incredible inspiration the world had already lit up in front of me.
As I felt the warmth of the fire on my face for the last time that evening, I realized I shouldn’t need to bring those two bottles home with me. With Taste as my compass, I was slowly coming to realize in this new way of moving, even as the avid, compulsive consumer and collector I am, that sometimes it’s okay to leave a taste we love behind where we first and maybe will only ever try it. Sometimes, the best way to preserve a memory is to walk away from it. Leave it right and just where we first found it. I went to sleep that night under a Slovenian blanket of twinkling stars knowing as much as I took away from this experience, I was leaving a part of myself here too.
The Final Act
Whether it was the striking clarity I felt the night before or the intoxicating aroma of baking bread wafting over from the restaurant, my mind and body jolted wide awake the next morning. I don’t even remember getting ready. At some point, my dutiful feet carried me across the patio back into that lovely room where I had taken lunch.
The third act of this play? Well it turns out, the best of everything was yet to come. The crescendo of emotion, taste and light had yet to peak, I wasn’t coming down from yesterday’s high, I was taking a gondola up to the Summit.
I still see, I still smell and I still feel the light that flooded the breakfast room with the most glorious golden glow that morning. It hung about each table set with fresh-baked goods, delicate jars of jams and honeys and pots of steaming coffee. My five senses would have each sworn we were having breakfast in heaven that Friday morning. My eyes took inventory of what was laid out in front of me, just for me – a ricotta tart, a basket of that freshly baked bread, a pitcher of homemade yogurt. I listened as the waiter shared origin stories of the charcuterie and cheese board on the table, that cute little pitcher of yogurt, the hot pink kombucha that just arrived, and the pair of swirly soft butters…
Savoring every bite, slow and intentional, I could actually tell the difference in flavor and texture between the pork and the beef salamis, two different kinds of honeys and the two mini ramekins of butter. I closed my eyes with each taste of that freshly baked, still warm bread. And, without restraint or regret, I tried slice after slice of both.
I coated big juicy, plump blueberries and raspberries with their fresh yogurt as I meticulously mapped out my way around the rest of the table. I moved with measured discipline until I made it to the grand finale… the homemade cookie. It was wonderfully heavy and dense but still somehow light and fluffy. The first bite? Guaranteed the second… and every last one thereafter until only crumbs remained on that empty pretty porcelain plate.
I should make one thing abundantly clear. If I had only one meal left on earth, this is where I’d take it. In this room, bathed with that morning sunlight, in front of that unforgettable spread just as it tasted, looked and felt that brilliant October morning.
EPILOGUE
When I first sat down for breakfast that morning as the waiter was pairing people and places to the bites and sips in front of me, he had to step in front of the window to block the sun from hitting me in the face. As soon as he stepped away again to greet the other guests, the sun was back, striking me like a perfectly pointed laser beam right in the eyes.
How remarkable, as I stop to really think about it, how truly remarkable is it that the same sun that lit up that room like heaven that morning, that pierced through the tunnel of trees out front the day before and fell away last night so those stars could shine down just so was now seeming to shine its light on me? I was once again struck in stillness by the strongest sense of belonging and connection to the world around me. Rather than turn away from its glare, I bowed my head and softly whispered to it, myself, and God… thank you.
Breakfast at Hiša Franko in Soča Valley, Slovenia
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