Steckerlfisch (Grilled Fish on a Stick)

The first time I ate Steckerlfisch I was eight years old, standing in the middle of a Volksfest somewhere outside Salzburg with Gretel and my grandmother Eva. Gretel bought three fish from a man tending a long row of sticks angled over a charcoal pit. The fish were bronzed and splitting at the skin, and the smoke smelled like garlic and summer. She handed me one on its stick and said, "Hold it like an ice cream. Eat it with bread." I stood there pulling flakes of smoky fish off the bone with my fingers and eating them tucked into a torn Semmel, and I thought it was the greatest thing I'd ever tasted.

Steckerlfisch is Austrian outdoor food at its most honest. A whole fish, usually mackerel, gets butterflied and skewered lengthwise on a long wooden stick. You rub it with a paste of garlic, sweet paprika, oil, and a little salt, then plant the stick at an angle next to glowing embers and let the heat do everything. No grill grate. No flipping. The fish cooks slowly in the radiant heat, the skin tightens and crisps, the fat renders into the flesh, and the garlic and paprika form a thin, savory crust.

You don't need a Volksfest to make this. A regular charcoal grill works beautifully if you understand the principle: indirect heat, patience, and a fish that was swimming recently. The stick is not a gimmick. It holds the fish open so the heat reaches the flesh evenly, and it gives you something to hold while you eat. Steckerlfisch is meant to be eaten standing, outdoors, with bread and beer and good company. That's the whole recipe for a perfect evening.