The Magic of Life on the Kumparička Farm

It was still a little early to see the Istrian farm bathed in the golden hues of summer, the way it welcomes guests in peak season. But on that Sunday at Kumparička, the generous pre-spring sunshine more than made up for it. The day began in the communal kitchen—the heart of the Winkler family home—where the warm atmosphere set the tone. And when Neil Young’s Harvest Moon started playing, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be—at the right place, at the right time, and with the right people. Meanwhile, in the barn a few hundred meters away, a dynamic event was unfolding in the maternity section — the herd had just welcomed several new members, and the energetic bleat of a newborn kid reminded me of that age-old miracle of birth. The herd now numbered around two hundred goats, which meant just as many reasons to produce top-quality organic (and regularly awarded) cheese — exactly what’s been happening on the Kumparička farm for the past 17 years.

Father Aleš and mother Saša were wise when they relocated from Slovenia to this estate, and for Tita and Bor, that meant growing up embraced by nature, surrounded by what many would call “the new age of luxury.” “Our parents pulled us out of the city at just the right time and showed us a life that we fell in love with, so later they never had to work hard to keep us here — it’s more like they’ll have a hard time getting rid of us,” Tita tells me charmingly. After studying philosophy in Ljubljana, she decided to return to Kumparička and continue what her father Aleš had started over a decade ago with Konoba Primitivo, an open-air farm restaurant. I loved this part of philosophy reflected in her life. “My thesis was about the flavors of philosophy — how to observe philosophy through gastronomy and vice versa. I often say that here on the farm I have much more to philosophize about than if I had stayed in the city. Wherever I was, I was always drawn to working with my hands and with people — maybe I could have chosen something more specialized in one direction or the other,” Tita muses aloud, but as she concludes, everything came together perfectly for her through cooking, where her creativity shines the most. “I may not be talented in classical arts, but food is art for all five senses.” “Especially when it’s served as part of the Kumparička Table experience,” I think out loud.

A long wooden table set in the garden, right next to the greenhouse, gathers about twenty people who book their spots in advance. The experience starts at 7 p.m. with a farm tour led by a family member; guests meet the animals, learn about cheese production, taste products from the dairy, and then everyone sits down at the table, all at once, like one big family, as courses of what Tita calls “honest food” start arriving — freshly harvested from the garden that very day. “Through our gastronomic evenings, we want to show people everything that can be created and the range of flavors goat’s milk and cheeses can offer when paired with other ingredients.” Since her garden is a huge source of inspiration, every year she strives to make the most of everything that grows there, “whether through fresh consumption or preservation, fermentation, and the like.” Tita also recalls how it was her father who first inspired her love of cooking: “He started teaching me when I was just six years old — I think I made my first Bolognese then, and it’s still one of my favorite dishes. And yes, I believe the Winkler Bolognese is the best, even though each of us prepares it a bit differently.”

As we walk around the farm, I’m repeatedly greeted by Edo, Mimi, and Lava — fluffy white charmers of the Maremmano-Abruzzese breed. They check in to make sure everything is okay, hoping for some extra cuddles. I think to myself that I’d do the same if I were the guardian of this estate. Between my legs winds Lilou, the farm’s beloved dachshund, who later proves to be an excellent assistant during the photoshoot. Back at the house, where Ronja, Norman, and Vronski — the farm cats — lounge lazily (no one ever needed to persuade them to move in), a great playlist (completely my style) continues with The Band, handpicked by Bor. “Music is incredibly important to me — I think it’s my main way of expressing emotion. In the summer, I make sure music is playing almost constantly, especially during dinner. That also comes from my parents, who have amazing taste in music, so I probably picked it up from them. I really believe it’s the highest form of art, and I can see myself evolving alongside the genres I listen to.” Knowing that he studies hospitality and hotel management in Ljubljana, I ask him how life in the city suits him.

Giving me a shy smile, he answers that he can’t wait to return to Kumparička each time. “The best part is the freedom and not having to live in an apartment building in some city — and the dynamic nature of the work. I see myself as a hybrid — someone who works with both hands and head — so it’s great that on the farm I can be active in both ways. Life on the farm isn’t the only life I know, but it’s definitely the one I’m best at,” Bor admits, adding that he definitely sees his future surrounded by nature and animals. “Maybe somewhere with more grasslands and a little stream,” he jokes, referring to Istria’s relentless rocky terrain.

Vito, Garp, and Sleepy — three beautiful horses — are his responsibility and the part of farm life he cherishes most.
“I’ve been riding since I can remember, and when we were kids, my sister and I would literally go everywhere on horseback.” “To the store, too?” I ask, half-joking. “Even to the store,” he answers seriously. He also reminisces about spending his childhood days in the forest, either alone or with friends, and much time on Uncle Tone’s ranch in the neighboring village, which shaped his relationship with horses. “I can say that variety suits me. There isn’t a task on the farm I haven’t done, especially when it comes to the goats, other animals, and the tourist aspect of the estate.” Tita chimes in, mentioning that Bor also helps with food preparation because, unlike her, he has more professional kitchen experience. “While I was off philosophizing at university, he was doing practical cooking as part of his studies, and besides that, he worked at Tabar in Ljubljana.” They both agree that two heads are better than one. Though sometimes sibling rivalry and competitive spirit arise, Tita sees it as good motivation in the long run. “We definitely complement each other — where I’m weaker, Bor is much stronger, and vice versa. I’m really happy that every year he’s more experienced and ready to help — not to mention that he’s only 20!”

“The cycles on the farm write their own rhythms. Unlike autumn, when things slow down, even with the goats,” Tita says, “because the ladies are preparing for maternity and produce less milk, with the milking season ending in late October. Winter brings complete peace and time for ‘philosophizing’ in front of the computer by the fireplace.”
She reveals that spring is her favorite season, and here, it often begins as early as February.
“Nature wakes up, the days are longer, and the sun warms us. The barn is full of kids, bringing new life energy to the farm. Finally, we catch up on all the projects that have been on our to-do list during the wet, gray winter months.” But summer is when the Winkler family goes into full gear.

 “When the regular dinner season is on, the first thing I do every morning is knead bread — there’s nothing better than warm focaccia in the evening!” As she says this, I can almost smell the warm bread. She tells me that every day on the farm is a little different, as they adapt to the schedule nature sets for them, month by month. The same applies to the menu she prepares. “Since we don’t have any ‘supply deliveries’ besides what comes from the garden, I have to adapt to whatever is harvested that day. So in a way, I start planning the menu in early spring, when we select the seeds to plant.” In using whatever the garden provides, she finds creative freedom.

She recently returned from Mexico, which reminds me to ask her about the “carameeeel” — a spread she created inspired by the Mexican dessert called cajeta. This milk-based treat has become a hit on the farm. “Since it’s made from milk, it doesn’t have the typical sweet caramel flavor; instead, it tastes like the warm milk my dad used to make for me when I was little and sick. It’s fantastic on its own but pairs beautifully with our cheeses. Even though the main ingredient is the same, the range of flavors is so broad. It’s great for cakes, cookies, or even stirred into coffee — and on apple slices when a sugar craving hits in our house.”

Two young people — Bor in his early twenties and Tita nearing thirty — offer a fascinating glimpse into the future: free from expectations and imposed rules, free from stifling cities, content with life here on the farm.
“I love the peace we have here. Some days I can just lie in the grass, bask in the sun, and know there will be no noise or distractions. I love having the dogs here and watching them roam freely, though they mostly just laze around…” Tita says.

I think to myself that their parents have done an incredible job here. I ask Bor what he thinks. “I’m sure we’re a really special family — and I mean that, genuinely,” he tells me, not wanting to sound boastful. I fully support him in that sentiment. “The way they raised us shaped us into something that’s hard to describe; we’ve gained this independent way of thinking.” “Aleš and Saša are truly unique characters,” Tita adds, continuing: “Both are incredibly skilled at communicating with people, even though they’ve applied that skill in different ways — Saša as a psychiatrist — and with Aleš, even when I was little, I could never sum up in one word what he does… and I still don’t think I can,” she finishes with a laugh.

The sun was setting over the village of Cokuni, just twenty kilometers from Pula. It was time to wrap up the story. And I was already thinking about when I’d return in the summer and sit once again at their Kumparička Table.