Welcome to Culinary Core Memories, a series exploring some of the most meaningful dishes of my life; meals from across the globe which have stayed with me, for one reason or another.

Creating the Culinary Core Memories series has been a lot of fun for me, due to the sheer range and diversity of the meals I picked out. Writing these pieces, I realised it was never really about the food at all. At its foundation, this series is about lasting memories, and the sacred moments these meals made happen.

This one is a reminder to never be disheartened by a bang average steak. It might be the beginnings of one of the most special nights of your life.

Mljet, Croatia

Back in 2022, I embarked on a group sail trip to Croatia, and it wholeheartedly changed my life.

I wrote about this in more detail in my birthday post, Quarter Life Crisis: 24 Travel Truths, and will undoubtedly write about it a hundred more times in the future, but to briefly summarise: I lived on a boat with twenty six strangers, and we had the best time in the world.

We were incredibly fortunate to have such a great group dynamic, and that is something I will always be truly thankful for. This trip changed my relationship with travel, defining the beginnings of what it has become, and I know this would not have happened if I had not found the friends I did on that boat.

On Day Three of the trip, we sailed to Mljet. Undoubtedly my favourite day of the trip, and my favourite island in Croatia.

Spending the day kayaking around Mljet National Park, on the bluest water I had ever seen in my life, was — I hate to use this word, so that’s how you know I genuinely mean it — healing.

Anyone who has travelled can relate to that feeling, the moment you look at the people you’re surrounded by, and wonder how it could only be the third day of the trip, when you could swear you have known them your whole life.

I could have stayed floating around on the lake all day, beating Emma and Manisha in our relay races; watching Xander and Richard topple their kayak over every other minute; and trying to avoid Mario as he laughed manically, charging at everybody full speed, oar at the ready to drench all his victims.

That evening, we had the option for a three course meal on our boat, which everyone in the group opted for. Not only were we blessed with a great group, but also the best crew possible — only four guys, including the Captain and our beloved tour guide, Ivan, singlehandedly keeping the group and the ship afloat.

Every day, there was a Breakfast buffet (for the few who could function and wake up early enough — I managed to catch it the morning we sailed into Korčula, thanks to the excessive amounts of vodka red bull consumed in Dubrovnik keeping me up the whole night), and depending on the plans for the day, were also always served either a lunch or dinner on the boat.

These were always great, copious amounts of pasta and salad available, and usually some cake on offer for pudding; our Chef knew the way to my heart. This three course meal, however, was a whole new level.

First things first, I need to talk about the bread.

The bread.

In the small dining area of the boat, there were four tables, seating six people each. Every lunch, there was a basket of bread on each table, and it was nothing short of magnificent.

Although the seating changed every day, depending on individual punctuality and the progress of the ever-developing situationships throughout the week, I was always sat with my roommate, due to our joint personality trait of running last minute for every meal (in our defence, two girls trying to get ready in a cabin which only had floor space for one suitcase, and a bathroom where you could only wash your hair sitting on the toilet, was quite a feat).

Our other joint personality trait, one which immediately bonded us, was our passion for the bread basket. We made no secret of our addiction, and by Day Three, our Chef was more than aware of our dietary requirements, and made sure the bread basket was constantly re-stocked.

With the bread, cheese and copious amounts of wine flowing, we moved onto the main course, where we were treated to a steak.

These steaks needed to be batch cooked in a tiny kitchen on a boat, so I was beyond surprised, and even more impressed, that they were served medium rare, and were actually tasty — I cannot stress enough, I don’t know how our Chef did it, as this boat was not equipped to be cooking this meal. After absolutely devouring that plate, we finished off with a cheesecake.

When I first started thinking of meals for Culinary Core Memories, this is one of the very first ones which came to mind. This meal, and this night, embody everything I want this series to focus on.

This was never going to be a piece about a life changing cheesecake, or the best steak I’ve ever had. I know at some point in my life, I must have tried the best steak or experienced the finest cheesecake, but I could not tell you when. None of those memories have stuck with me.

What did stick, however, are the vivid memories I have of the boat docked up that night, in the middle of the ocean, offset somewhere near Mljet.

I can tell you about our chef’s grin as he appeared with another bread basket, before we had even begun our daily debate of who would have to embarrass themselves this evening by asking for another. I remember us vowing to drink twenty seven drinks in honour of Alice’s twenty seventh birthday; we all lost count somewhere along the way, but I assure you, we completed that challenge. I remember the crew bringing out a surprise birthday cake for her, as everyone on the boat sang along, thrilled to be a part of her special day, friends who had known each other a lifetime.

This night was incomparable.

Every other night we were at a rave in a castle in Dubrovnik, or clubbing in a cave in Makarska, and although those nights were iconic and wild, they will never be the core memory this was.

Out in the clubs, despite everyone’s best attempts, we would inevitably scatter, the group disbanding before the first round was bought.

Everyone has their kryptonite, that one element that ruins their chances of a successful night out. Some would believe they had food poisoning and sprint back to the boat for safety in the bathroom, others were asked to leave the bar after losing their balance on the dance floor and falling over a table of drinks. Some stormed off after seeing the girl they fancied talking to another guy on the dance floor, others would lose their ticket in the smoking area and not be allowed to re-enter the club (Dubrovnik, why no club stamps?)

The most unfortunate souls have the most dangerous kryptonite of all: a genre of mental illness which makes them attracted to blond men who think it’s cool to wear sunglasses at night. If you have this friend — firstly, pray for her, you may be able to exorcise her of these demons if you try hard enough. Secondly, say your farewells at the start of the night. No matter which gods you call upon, you are not making it through a whole evening in Split without seeing a blond man who wears sunglasses in the club.

Those nights — the ones where Adam would have to call the group chat from a pizza shop, in a panic as we all realised we only had fifteen minutes until the boat set sail again, and we were all dispersed across different corners of the island; the ones where Chloe would message everyone asking what the fuck happened in the last five minutes, questioning why her and our tour guide were the only people who made it to the club, when she could have sworn at least twelve of us were in the queue with her — were nothing like this night in Mljet.

In Mljet, it was Family Night — an old favourite phrase of mine, definitely something I picked up from Geordie Shore, meaning friendship has to be everyone’s one and only focus of the night (note: inter-group relationships, although incestuous and inconvenient, are allowed on Family Night).

That night, it was just us, drinking anything and everything in sight, everybody suddenly very shameless about the fact we were only supposed to buy drinks from the bar onboard, and waving their contraband, store-bought bottles of Jäger around. Screaming along to every song as loud as we wanted, the girls from the States and I bonding over our shared love for 2000s emo music, no neighbours to disturb in the middle of the ocean. Skinny dipping in the sea, the water somehow pleasantly warm and calm at three in the morning, as I asked the age old question of why am I a better swimmer when I’m drunk? A group of us staying up after people slowly began to blackout, sat around the table on the lower deck, playing cards and quizzing Harrison on when he would propose to Alice, gossiping about whether Xander would ever make a move on Rachel.

This was three years ago now. Rachel and Xander just got married, and Harrison and Alice recently welcomed a baby girl.

We called it Family Night, but we really were a family.

note: I was going through a quirky phase where I didn’t take any pictures on my travels (never again) so have zero proof of this meal

so congrats 2022 Georgia, you’ve fucked up this food specific blog post. please enjoy these pics from Mljet instead :)

GLJTravels is a free publication. But if you’d like to support me and my writing, you can consider buying me a coffee (or a jägerbomb xox) here :)

tip jar for coffee :)

Leave a comment

Check out the rest of the Culinary Core Memories series here:

Culinary Core Memories [#1]

Georgia Jones

·

October 19, 2025

Read full story

Culinary Core Memories [#3]

Georgia Jones

·

November 12, 2025

Read full story