I was brought up in a concrete city. My cousin Victor lived on a country farm and I would occasionally spend weekends with him. One morning he took me to a secluded lake with his friend Leon to fish for trout. I did not catch anything but they did well and by high sun we stopped at the riverbank where Leon started a small fire, gutted the fish, and began frying them in a cast iron skillet he brought. I never tasted fish that good again. I have chased the taste for the rest of my life without finding it again. I remember fish & chips on the streets of London, England came close, but never hit that first experience. I enjoyed your story. Best regards.