Greece has sharpened up its image in recent years, but Croatia needs no makeover. Summer holidays here are hype-free, a throwback to the Med as it used to be, but without the yesteryear facilities. Few bits of Europe compare with the southern Dalmatian coast. Consider the superlatives: it has the cleanest seas in the Med (sorry, Greece); the sunniest islands in the Adriatic (Hvar and Mljet); and the longest, whitest beaches in Croatia.

Then you have the luminescent quality of the light, and the green, green valleys, shot through with silver olives and splashed by rust-red soil. And the nights, boiling with stars. A Croatian folk tale says that this coast is the leftovers from heaven — and who would argue?

Alongside poster stars such as Dubrovnik, Hvar and Korcula lie timeless hideaways that Croatians keep for themselves: the pristine lost worlds of Vis and Lastovo; the Elafiti islands, still “lovelier than gardens”, as they were when first discovered by Renaissance aristocrats; and Mljet, which bewitched Odysseus and Prince Charles alike. All are places of pinch-me perfection, where lunches are long and nightlife means sipping rakija by the harbour.

The Dalmatian people, a stirring mix of Balkan heart and Italian dolce vita, invented their own word to encapsulate all this — fjaka. It defines a deliciously lazy mood of pure contentment.

Top tables: something is sizzling in Croatia, and it’s not just the raznjici kebabs. Gourmet cooking has arrived, as chefs experiment with fishy carpaccios and add truffles to grandma’s old recipes. Coachloads of wine buffs now tour estates on the Peljesac peninsula.

Posh places such as the Atlas Club Nautika, in Dubrovnik, have embraced the new mood of indulgence, but classic Dalmatian cooking — the gutsy good stuff, rustled up in a konoba (a sort of bistro) and flavoured in equal parts by Italy, the Balkans and the Med — is just as tasty. Lamb roasted under a peka (an iron lid) heaped with embers is slow food by any other name, and age-old favourites such as brodet (fish stew), pasticada (beef stew) and lobster flash-fried with wine were organic long before that term was invented.

Dubrovnik’s smooth stone streets burst with restaurants. You’re also spoilt for choice on Korcula and Hvar. But I love Vis, Croatia’s most distant island, which is sensational for seafood, locally made wine and escapism. A harbourside dinner at Bako, in the postcard-pretty village of Komiza, comes as close to perfection as eating out gets.

Rated rooms: goodbye concrete boxes, farewell dreary decor. At last, Croatia has bought into boutique, as Yugoslav-era hotels get a makeover and family guesthouses start to appear.

In the heart of Dubrovnik, baroque glamour comes with five-star standards at the Pucic Palace (www.thepucicpalace.com; doubles from £200, B&B). On Hvar, you can choose between streamlined style at the revamped Riva (www.suncanihvar.hr; from £113) and artsy villas at the luxury Meneghello complex (www.palmizana.hr; from £751 per week). The latter is on the islet of St Klement, from where a private boat whisks you into Hvar town in jet-set style.

Just as special are bolt holes such as Paula (www.paula-hotel.htnet.hr), on Vis, with rustic charm and harbour views to nurture your fjaka.

Private lodgings are also widely available: £12 or £13 will buy you a room, often with a glass of grandpa’s plonk thrown in.

Super sands: King Edward VIII removed the royal trunks in Croatia and went skinny-dipping with Mrs Simpson. Who can blame him? The beaches of southern Dalmatia are the stuff holidays are made of: laid-back, with shingle fine enough for sand castles, and a konoba for lunch. Tiny coves scallop the coast, should you decide to find a private day retreat by foot or fishing boat.

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