Fleischsalat (Austrian Meat Salad)

Every Feinkost counter in Austria has a version of Fleischsalat behind the glass. It sits in a white ceramic bowl between the Liptauer and the Eiaufstrich, pale pink and flecked with green, waiting for someone to point at it and say "a hundred grams of that, please." I grew up eating it on Semmeln during the annual trips to Austria with Gretel and my grandmother Eva. We'd stop at a market, buy rolls and Fleischsalat and a bottle of Almdudler, and eat in the car or on a bench somewhere between Salzburg and the Salzkammergut. It tasted like the trip was officially starting.

The recipe is almost absurdly simple. Extrawurst, the mild, smooth Viennese sausage that every Austrian child grows up on, cut into strips and dressed with mayonnaise, diced gherkins, and a splash of pickle brine. That's it. The brine is the secret. It cuts through the richness of the mayo and gives the salad a tang that keeps you reaching back for another bite. Without it, you have a heavy, dull spread. With it, you have something that belongs on good bread.

Fleischsalat is not dinner-party food and it doesn't pretend to be. It's Jause, the afternoon meal that Austrians take seriously the way the English take tea. A Semmel split open, a thick layer of Fleischsalat, maybe a pickle alongside, and you're fed. Good Austrian home cooking doesn't always involve a stove. Sometimes it's a sharp knife, a mixing bowl, and the sense to leave well enough alone.