If you want to be fluent in the language of barbecue you can’t limit yourself to the regional dialects of USA. You have to get on a plane or a boat and head to foreign lands.

Four years ago today I took the train from downtown Zagreb, Croatia to the westernmost stop on the line. I was on the hunt for a Serbian barbecue restaurant that was touted as being the best in Croatia. Mitnica is tucked away in a hilly neighborhood a 10 minute walk north of the train station.

The staff took great delight in the stranger in a cowboy hat that had sought out their restaurant, and soon enough an English-speaking worker was found who explained to me that my interests would be best served by ordering ‘Maksimir’s String’

This is the ‘feed me’ option on the menu meaning that the pitboss sends out an endless string of grilled and smoked meats til the patron begs for relief. Intermittently, my waiter and I would do shots of rakija a type of fruit brandy. I highly recommend this behavior.

Pictured is a ground pork sausage stuffed into lamb’s guts. It was divine but only one of a dozen or so dishes that the cook sent out before I crumpled and waved the flag of surrender.

RL Reeves Jr