Tucked away slightly off the main streets, in the second row of Rovinj, lies Tunï Gallery. Not quite where the biggest streams of visitors move through the old town, but a little removed from it. The kind of place you are more likely to seek out than simply stumble into. That seems to be part of the concept.
During our conversation, Kristóf speaks of “high quality customers”. He is not referring to particularly wealthy guests, but to people who come deliberately and are genuinely interested in what Tunï Gallery is about.
And that is much more than coffee.
Kristóf and Eszter are originally from Budapest, but Rovinj has long been part of their shared story. They met here around 15 years ago. Today, they are spending their second season in Rovinj with Tunï Gallery.
Even the name originated here, from a small local encounter. Kristóf tells me about trying to buy sardines and being offered small fish that were referred to as “tuni”. The name stuck.
Ceramics That Preserve Landscapes
The main focus is not coffee, but art.
Kristóf works with porcelain and creates mainly cups: individual pieces for the home rather than tableware for the café itself. He has a larger studio in Budapest, where he produces during the winter months. Eszter designs jewellery, which is also sold at Tunï Gallery. The space therefore feels more like a small gallery with a coffee bar than a conventional café.
Kristóf’s work is strongly influenced by landscapes, travel and coastal forms. Last year, darker surfaces dominated, inspired by the Azores, their black volcanic rock and rugged scenery. The current collection draws on the lighter limestone found around Rovinj.
It is not only about colour or glaze.
The shape of the cups is part of the story too. Kristóf explains that both the vessels and the Tunï logo are inspired by a lighthouse: wider at the base and narrowing towards the top. A simple detail that only reveals its story when you look a little closer. Rocks, coastal textures and maritime forms repeatedly find their way into his work as well.
Two or Three Batches a Day
The same attitude continues with the coffee.
There is no traditional coffee menu. No cappuccino, no espresso, no long list of choices. Instead, Tunï serves cold drip coffee, dispensed with nitrogen. It flows from the tap almost like a stout. The fine nitrogen bubbles create a pale foam head and give the coffee a surprisingly smooth, creamy texture.
Only two or three batches are made each day. The roasts change and come from small roasteries. And once the prepared cold drip is gone for the day, it is gone. There is no improvising simply to keep selling for longer.
At first, that may sound strict. In reality, it sums up Tunï rather well: better to offer less and do it properly than to offer more and become interchangeable.
There are also cube croissants. The blue cheese version in particular stays in the memory: rich, salty, buttery and unexpectedly well matched with the cold coffee.
A Coffee Scene That Does Not Yet Exist
Kristóf says that Rovinj does not really have a coffee scene yet. Tunï Gallery is currently the only specialty coffee place of its kind in the city. He does, however, expect that to change over the next few years.
For now, the customer base is made up almost entirely of tourists, while locals rarely come in.
That is interesting, especially because Tunï does not try to operate in the most tourist-oriented way possible. The selection is small, production is limited, and there is no guarantee there will still be coffee left later in the afternoon.
Tunï does not try to be everything to everyone.
It asks for a little attention, and that is part of its appeal.
Imperfect Is Allowed to Be Imperfect
At the end, I get to take my time looking at the cups and holding them in my hands.
Kristóf tells me that he experiments with different types of porcelain and shows me two batches. One is made from a very white porcelain, beautiful, but not perfectly round because the material does not hold the shape. The other is made from a slightly less white porcelain that keeps a much more precise form.
The uneven cups are not failed attempts. They are experiments, and they have just as much right to exist.
It is the same philosophy as with the coffee: the material decides, not the sale. The cold drip is not stretched, and the porcelain is not forced into a shape it does not want to hold.
At Tunï, sold out means sold out.
And imperfect is allowed to remain imperfect.
