Martićeva Street can play all sorts of roles, a bit of Paris, a bit of Berlin, but sometimes, behind a door with a shell motif, it brings to life Split from ‘98. And not the one with crowds, selfies, and noise. Just fish, fire, and butter.
We started lunch at Zlatna Školjka with plum brandy and dried figs (3 €), a classic trick that always works when you want to reconcile the continent and the coast. The cod pâté arrived (3.50 €), decent but fatty, with fish only as a shadow in a dense texture that reminds more of butter than of the sea. Luckily, the house bread with black olives restored the balance: warm, salty, and perfectly soft.
The use of a tablet as a restaurant menu was quite surprising considering the ambiance, but it was the only thing reminding us that we were in 2025, so we needed a minute to adjust to this high-tech approach to gastronomy.
After the futuristic selection, we sat in a time machine by choosing the clear fish soup (4 €), which was just salty enough with a few grains of rice to evoke tradition, but not to dominate the overall impression.
The following dishes were somewhat safe and predictable. Shrimps on arugula (18.50 €) were perfectly cooked, as was the beef tagliata with Grana Padano (27 €). Both proteins were excellently executed, but surprisingly similar in composition: different animals, same plate. Too much arugula, too little excitement. Black pasta with scampi and dried tomato (18.50 €) was decent, but lacked the depth that black pasta often promises. Altogether, dishes that beg for a new spice, a new contrast, a new reason to be remembered.
At the moment when the monotonous arugula started to tire us, we ordered grilled scallops with butter (15 €). A dish that restores faith in decadence: scallops seared on the outside, tender inside, in a rich bath of butter. This wasn’t just a course, it was a warm hug from the kitchen.
The planned scampi for the main course were not available, which the staff immediately informed us about—a rare and valuable practice in fish restaurants. Instead, we went to the fish showcase and personally chose a scorpionfish (63 €), sea bream (33.60 €), and a large Adriatic squid (24 €). Everything went on the grill. First, everything arrived at the table whole—shiny, fresh, and quite photogenic. After inspection, the waiters filleted the fish and sliced the squid, then returned them with sides: Swiss chard with potatoes (4 €) and young spinach with potatoes (4 €).
The fish was divine. You could sense it already in the showcase, but the preparation confirmed the highest standards. The skin was crispy, the flesh tender and juicy, without a trace of dryness. The scorpionfish, known as a demanding fish to prepare, was executed flawlessly here. The squid was cooked al dente, with flavors of the sea and smoke, a sign that the grill masters at Školjka know exactly what they’re doing. The table olive oil, unobtrusive and balanced, allowed the fish flavors to take center stage.
The sides were backup vocals, but with an understanding of the plate in front of them. Swiss chard with potatoes (4 €) was classic, but enhanced with a touch of butter that added depth without overwhelming the melody. Young spinach with boiled potatoes (4 €) was a more modest and less considered side with great potential.
For dessert, we had rožata (5 €) and chocolate mousse (5 €). The rožata was classic and wobbly, but leaves room for a more creative approach. The mousse was thick, strong, but somewhat closed—in an ironic way, it lacked air, foam, that decadent creaminess promised in the name. Still, very tasty.
With dessert, we drank Krauthaker Graševina late harvest (5 €), a wine that elegantly rounded out the experience.
And all of this happened on a terrace that was packed to the last table, on a Thursday in the middle of summer, when half the city had already left for the coast. If that’s not a quiet sign of reputation, then at least it shows that Zagreb knows how to recognize a serious grill when it smells one.
Special compliments also go to the staff, who were pleasant, professional, discreet, but present the whole time—just enough to make you feel cared for, but not smothered. No theatrics, just finely calibrated service you’d wish for in some Mediterranean gastronomic mecca.
Zlatna Školjka isn’t cheap, but it’s honest. When they don’t have something, they say so, and when they do, they know how to prepare it like few others. A grill that doesn’t strive for pretentiousness, but for precision. If Zagreb still dreams of the sea, Zlatna Školjka is its lucid dream with butter and without annoying seagulls.
Za sudjelovanje u komentarima je potrebna prijava, odnosno registracija ako još nemaš korisnički profil....