
Mici — those fingerless sausages that have fed Romanians at every celebration, riverside picnic, and summer evening — are the original fast food of a slow culture. But behind the charcoal smoke and the mustard jar, there has always been a question of the meat. For generations, the Mangalița pig — a curly-haired, lard-rich breed that once fattened half of Central Europe — nearly vanished. Industrial breeds replaced it. Then came a quiet revival, led by small farmers who understood that fat is flavour, and flavour is memory. At Conacul Grigorescu, we start with Mangalița from the hills of the Buzău Land — meat that is darker, richer, and more fragrant than anything a supermarket shelf can offer. We blend it with freshly roasted kapia and gogoșari peppers from our neighbouring producers: peppers that carry the particular sweetness of our valley's sun. The mici rest overnight. They meet the grill briefly but fiercely. They arrive at the table with nothing but mustard and the quiet confidence of something that needed no reinvention — only better ingredients.

Ferma Dacilor was born in 2013 at Tohani, on the hills of the Dealu Mare wine country — a project first meant for one family, grown into a place where old values live on in food and way of life. Mangalitsa pigs are raised in semi-freedom, and the meat is slow-cooked over wood fire, to recipes from another time. This is where the charcuterie and pork dishes we serve at the conac come from — smoked and matured without hurry.
Bright white acidity highlights the delicate flavours.
From just over the hill — a true local pairing.
From just over the hill — a true local pairing.