This audio is generated by AI, so pronunciation and expressions may not be fully accurate. The narration is only in English.
Kawasaki Satsuki had never planned to open Japan's first and only Croatian restaurant. In 2002, he worked for a major power company—corporate life was safe and predictable, his days spent mired in administrative work. But his secondment to a company affiliate in the town of Tokamachi, Niigata Prefecture in northern Japan, would completely change the course of his life.
The first year of Kawasaki's secondment coincided with the 2002 FIFA World Cup Korea/Japan. At the time, Japan's municipalities actively sought to host training camps for football teams from around the world. He wound up serving as reception manager for the facility where the Croatian national team trained.
After the World Cup ended, he decided to take some time off to visit Croatia. Kawasaki had become close friends with members of their football association and national team, and wanted to see their home for himself. During one of their nightly dinners, he joked that he would like to open a restaurant if he ever quit his job. To his surprise, they responded in earnest: "There isn't a single restaurant in Japan that serves Croatian food, you should do it." Things were going well at his company, and there was no reason to quit. But after returning to Japan from his summer holiday, a little voice inside him said, you only live once. In December 2002, he quit his job at the power company and set about opening a Croatian restaurant. Dobro opened to the public in November 2003 and is still going strong in its original Kyobashi location in central Tokyo.
These days, Dobro welcomes a steady stream of customers from all walks of life—regular Tokyoites, high-ranking executives, curious tourists, homesick members of the Croatian diaspora, even diplomats and politicians. But getting here was a long journey of trial and error.
The months leading up to Dobro's opening were riddled with unexpected challenges and complications. Dozens of potential landlords refused to rent to someone with virtually no experience in the food industry. The chef that Kawasaki had flown in from Croatia quit and returned to his country out of homesickness one month before they were due to open, leaving Kawasaki scrambling to find a replacement. During the first few weeks, there were so few customers that his staff would be startled if the restaurant door opened.
"Looking back, I realise now that it was a good thing I wasn't from the restaurant industry," says Kawasaki, reflecting on this tough beginning. "Anyone opening a restaurant wouldn't have taken on this location in Kyobashi, the rent, and the capacity to start with. Normally you'd start somewhere a bit smaller and only move once you've built up a customer base." Nevertheless, he says, the risk paid off—in part thanks to their central location, but also because big risks yield bigger rewards.
What is Croatian cuisine? What dish represents this country? These are questions Kawasaki often hears and is hard-pressed to answer in a succinct manner. He usually begins by explaining how Croatia's tumultuous history and geography have influenced its cuisine.
Various regimes—the Ottomans, Austrians, and Hungarians—ruled over Croatia over the centuries. Furthermore, its location at the crossroads between Central Europe and the Mediterranean also allowed it to soak up influences from the Greeks, Romans, and Venetians. Croatia's capital, Zagreb, is close to Hungary, and stewed meat dishes are popular there; on the coastal areas facing the Adriatic Sea, seafood dishes are far more common.
"Cuisine is a reflection of culture, so when cultures blend, their dishes do too. That's why you can't point at a single dish and say that this is Croatian cuisine—it's truly in a class of its own." In some ways, Croatia's rich cultural variety and diverse range of cuisine parallels Tokyo's highly international restaurant scene, where one can find and sample almost anything from around the world.
"Borders don't dictate cuisine, so perhaps the greatest characteristic of Croatian cuisine is its excellent balance," says Kawasaki.
That said, there are a number of dishes beloved by Croatians. Sarma is one, a vestige from the Ottoman Empire days. Derived from the Turkish sarmak, it is a variant on stuffed cabbage rolls featuring tangy sauerkraut leaves for a refreshing acidic kick. This is one of Dobro's signature dishes.
Dobro's menu features a mix of homestyle food and restaurant fare. Another staple at the restaurant is štruklji, a beloved household dish eaten in the northern regions of Croatia. It consists of a thin sheet of dough, as large as a table, filled with fresh cheese, eggs, and sour cream before being rolled lengthwise. "This is probably our most popular dish. It's not like lasagna, nor is it like other pasta dishes; it's more of a strudel. It would probably fall under the pasta category though."
As the only Croatian restaurant in Japan, Kawasaki feels a strong sense of responsibility for how Croatian cuisine is represented to Japanese customers. From the outset, he decided to only serve reasonably high-quality food, as cheap, low-quality offerings would only damage Croatia's reputation. "It's similar to how if one Japanese person does something bad overseas, it reflects badly on all Japanese people," says Kawasaki.
Should someone in Japan find themselves interested in or involved with Croatian culture, they are likely to end up either running into Kawasaki or eating at Dobro—or both. Over the years, the restaurant has hosted all manner of people connected with Croatia, such as the Croatian ambassador, Croatians living in Japan, football players from the national team, and embassy staff. Kawasaki himself continues to be involved in events that involve Croatia, such as helping Tokamachi host the Croatian Olympic delegation in 2019 and 2021.
The lower floor is for relaxed, casual dining; the upper floor is a more formal space reserved for multi-course dining.
Dobro serves a variety of homestyle dishes.
Pašticada, a dish of beef cheeks braised in red wine, is a popular menu item.
The upper floor is elegantly furnished, ideal for formal dinners or client meetings.
A variety of antiques add to Dobro's cozy atmosphere.
The staircase connecting both floors evokes the shape of an amphitheater.
The lower floor is used during lunch service.
On display are commemorative footballs signed by Croatian players.
Tokyo's culinary scene is highly competitive, with restaurants opening and closing all the time. Surviving as a restaurateur here takes skill, savvy, and no small amount of luck.
A large part of Dobro's long-term success is because Kawasaki refuses to rest on his laurels. To avoid being weeded out, he tells us, it is crucial to keep thinking about the food—not just changing the menu but continuously striving to raise the quality of dishes as much as possible. This is where his initial lack of background in the food industry paid off: He is always considering the dining experience from the customer's perspective, rather than hewing to industry conventions. "There has never been a point where I've thought, right, this is good enough," he says.
The preponderance of sophisticated, knowledgeable diners in Tokyo is another factor that keeps Dobro from becoming complacent. "Tokyoites know what's out there, and will try all sorts of things," observes Kawasaki. "Coming to Tokyo means that you can eat anything. In that sense, operating in Tokyo raises your own standards. It's a place where you can be properly recognized if your offerings are good."
