I've got a belly full of smokie.
It's local specialty fare, sort of the cheesesteak of a nearby town, Arbroath. The original idea dates back to the Vikings 900 years ago, according to Ian, the guy doing the actual smoking. Somehow, Arbroath became the "home of the smokie."
To cook it, they dig a pit in the ground, line it with slates and put a half barrel of whiskey in the bottom of the pit for juicy favoring. Then they take haddock, or trout, cut it, tie up the tail, spread it over a plank and cook it for 40 minutes over smoking beech or oak fire, which is covered by some sort of sackcloth. In the end, the smokie is "golden brown." Quite tasty.
I had my first smokie a couple of nights ago in a pub in Arbroath, mostly at the urging of the locals at the next table. Today, a few of us discovered some guy from Arbroath has a smokie stand not far from the media center. He served his smokie on paper plates and we all stood around eating and picking tiny fish bones out of our teeth. It's sort of like standing around Pat's in South Philly eating a cheesesteak. You can't beat it.