Meet the family winemakers of Croatia's 'little Tuscany'

For 30 minutes in the cellar of wine-hotel Vuglec Breg, Jasminka Šaško is the consummate professional. She gushes over fermentation times and advantages of the champagne method of sparkling production as she shows me around her office, a century-old cellar of red bricks and old wood, its walls stacked with dusty bottles, its air a fug of fermentation. Then she slips into lyricism. “Wine is art that changes,” she says. “Grapes are alive and wine is alive, so wine for me is a living art.” It seems Zagorje brings out the romantic in everyone.

An hour north of Zagreb, Zagorje’s name translates either as ‘back-hills’ or ‘behind the mountain’ — but that hardly does it justice. Though sights are few, to visit is to enter a living fairytale. White castles crown hummocky hills. Farming villages slumber in woodland. And among it all is one of Croatia’s most distinctive wine scenes.

Jasminka says, “People used to label Zagorje as farmers’ wine because grapes were a little sour. With climate change, grapes are sweeter and those same areas are the best. Quality in the past 20 years is totally different.” She hands me a glass of graševina white wine — it’s citrussy and mineral, with the freshness of green apples. Remember 2025, she advises. The vintage will be a cracker.

Compared to Dalmatia and Istria, cool-climate Zagorje is an oenological backwater. Vuglec Breg produces just 70,000 bottles annually; you’ve got to visit if you want to try it. Yet local cultivation has deep roots. DNA analysis of a nearby vineyard revealed the region’s grape, gouais blanc, to be the source of European classics such as chardonnay and riesling. Zagorje families mark the turning seasons by the tiny vineyards that most own. At each is a klet, a vineyard cabin to store tools and enjoy barbecues — or perhaps just watch sunset gild the hills while nursing a glass.

Vuglec Breg hotel is ideal for that. It’s been created from the hilltop hamlet where owner Boris Vuglec, now in his fifties, grew up. Buying land as the few neighbours sold, he’s established a retreat full of rustic soul. Rebuilt cottages have gingham curtains and apple-green shutters. Grandma Roza’s chicken house has been revamped to host cooking classes and the cow barn is now a restaurant where regional cuisine is refined to Bib Gourmand quality.

And, of course, there are wines. The morning after I arrive, Boris shows me some of the 30 acres he planted on the steep slopes in front of the hotel in 2005; varieties like chardonnay, Rhein riesling, sauvignon, muscat, pinot noir and that graševina, a Croatian speciality. Unlike the manicured acres of France or the US, these are half-acre plots jigsawed between woodland — a square of vines here, a triangle there. The hotel swimming pool is surrounded by vines and a tethered donkey grazes at their edge. Beyond the hotel, a green valley threads through a carpet of copper and bronze leaves. There’s no sound but birdsong. “Zagorje is very different from other parts of Croatia. It’s pure nature. The peace gets into your heart,” says Boris.

Inspired, I go for a drive towards Veliki Tabor Castle. Lanes are like doodles through quiet, minding-their-own-business hills. In villages, white geese waddle across farmyards and corn cobs dry outside sagging barns. There’s a storybook quality to the place: folksy, homespun. The 15th-century castle is a cluster of stocky white towers and ramparts, originally built to repel eastern invasions. But better still is the view of hills and woods, farmhouses and hilltop churches.

“It’s our little Tuscany,” winemaker Igor Horvat says at Petrač Winery. Having prearranged a visit to the vineyard a mile from Vuglec Breg, I sit as Igor tells me the vineyard has grown from two acres to 25 in two decades, making it one of the largest in Zagorje. Beyond our table, vines spill down steep slopes like gold waterfalls.

So why isn’t Zagorje better known? Because land was precious to poor farmers, Igor explains. Families traditionally divided estates between siblings rather than sell, making plots too small for commercial winemaking. That’s why it has just 15 professional vineyards. He tells me Petrač was the first to introduce bordeaux reds. “The Ministry of the Interior said it was too cold for cabernet sauvignon, but if you can grow it in Austria, why not here?” He pops a bottle of Enigma, an award-winning blend of cabernet sauvignon with cabernet franc and merlot, then sniffs with his eyes closed. “Truffles!” he says. For me, it’s an elegant stew of plums, red cherries and ripe tannins. The grand crus of France are unlikely to be worried. But if scenery and charm factor into your appreciation of wine, Zagorje is a winner.