As we all know, love goes through the stomach. As does culture, specifically holiday culture. Even more so, holiday culture in a country like Austria, which is generally very big on its own unique traditions and also very big on food. However, even as an almost 30-year-old Austrian gal, I do sometimes struggle with the idea of what exactly this mystery is: Austrian holiday and food culture. A culture that somehow includes both precise rules and the freedom to ignore them entirely.

It is so broad, so unique, so different from family to family, exactly as are holiday meals. Trying to summarise what we Austrians and Viennese do on Christmas Eve is like trying to get ten Viennese to agree on where the best Schnitzel is, so obviously it felt like the perfect thing to write an article on in the most hectic week of the year.

Even as that almost 30-year-old Austrian girl who has only ever spent one Christmas out of the country, I still don’t know exactly what the typical Austrian Christmas dinner is. Research tells me it’s Karpfen - carp - usually either steamed as a whole or fried in our very beloved schnitzel bread crust.
As with most traditions in Austria, this goes back to the church and Christian religion. The 24th of December was meant to be a day of fasting, not feasting, as we often misinterpret it today, so meat was usually abstained from until after Midnight Mass (another one of these traditional happenings on the 24th, a tradition I’ve conveniently and blissfully missed out on my whole life thanks to my very non-religious upbringing).

Carp on Christmas Eve actually dates back to the Middle Ages, as it symbolised prosperity and good fortune, which explains both the tradition itself and why it sometimes feels slightly out of step with modern life. Some people even kept a carp scale in their wallet for luck until the next year.
Personally, I like traditions best when they don’t require me to carry fish parts in my purse. But I respect the commitment, and honestly, after 2025, I feel like we could all use a carp scale in our pocket sometimes.

Carp on Christmas Eve is such a big thing for us that most supermarkets and shops have a pre-order stop long before the actual week of Christmas. This means people won’t be able to just stop by and buy fish on the 24th without preplanning. It’s a brief but intense moment of the year where carp becomes a scarce luxury item, only to disappear again with impressive commitment for the next twelve months.
I have very fond memories of going food shopping with my dad on the morning of the 24th of December, when we would visit the old Meinl am Graben, before its refurbishment. Honestly, after that, I never really stepped foot in there again. It still breaks my heart how they destroyed one of my most beloved food stores in Vienna.

People would basically stomp over each other trying to buy their last-minute fish. It’s more or less what I imagine happens during Black Friday sales, just more intense. Because if you think you can squeeze past a Viennese grandmother wearing fur, red lipstick, and probably a small Chanel or Hermès bag at the fish counter on the 24th, you are damn well sure to be greeted by some of the most polite yet deeply aggressive Wiener Grant you will ever hear in your life. Full sentences, perfect manners, absolute verbal violence.
It felt less like grocery shopping and more like Armageddon, just with better diction and significantly more carp.

Besides carp and other fasting-friendly fish options such as Heringssalat, Forelle Müller (trout), or other local fish, another big tradition in Austria and Germany is the classic Würsteldinner. Frankfurters with mustard, horseradish, bread, and Erdäpfelsalat. (Don’t ever call them Wiener Würstel in Vienna, that’s like saying “Vienna is basically Germany”.) I think this tradition mostly developed because the 24th is an immensely stressful day for adults. Entertaining kids while also playing the very important role of Christkind leaves little energy for culinary ambition. Viennese sausages are wonderfully easy to prepare, and most kids will happily eat them before storming off to see what’s under the Christmas tree.

That’s also how I imagine one very specific tradition in my friend group started: one friend and their family go to McDonald’s for lunch on the 24th. I’m convinced it began as a tactical move to get the kids out of the flat quickly and without complaints, and over the years quietly evolved into something sacred. Further proof that tradition often starts with survival.

Of course, no conversation about Austrian Christmas food would be complete without mentioning Braten. When asked, many of my Austrian friends actually do have Braten on the 24th nowadays. Goose, duck, lamb, pork roast, sometimes venison. Crispy skin, rich sauces, dumplings, red cabbage. The kind of meal that requires planning, patience, and at least one family member taking it very seriously.

Traditionally, though, this feast doesn’t belong to the 24th. It’s reserved for the 25th or 26th of December, when the fasting is over, the pressure has lifted, and everyone can finally sit down properly and eat, often while running from house to house to fit in several extended family visits. In that sense, Christmas Eve food in Austria often feels less like the main event and more like the calm before it. Because for the main event, you usually have to get on the road first.

In my family, where it used to be just me and my parents on the evening of the 24th, we went a different, simpler route for Christmas Eve. We would have scrambled eggs with truffle. I do acknowledge that truffle is not the most humble or basic ingredient. However, as you’ll learn more about my family, this basically counts as humble in my dad’s eyes. Alongside that, we usually had lobster soup from a can.

I don’t exactly know how this tradition developed, but I wouldn’t want to miss it for anything. As you can probably tell, we never really cared much for what was considered typical. However, as of last year, I was actually, and to my own surprise, introduced to Christmas carp at the husband’s family. It was freshly fried, served with warm potato salad, on Austrian-beloved onion-patterned porcelain (Zwiebelmuster for the win forever). I have to say, I’ve hardly ever enjoyed a meal more. Maybe it’s my fake Britishness that makes me fond of deep-fried fish, or maybe it’s the Austrian in me that finally discovered the one Christmas food that was always meant for her.

Sadly, the husband has since informed me that I will not grow old with this tradition. The in-law family has changed their Christmas Eve meal again, this time to lamb. And somehow, that leaves me genuinely heartbroken, as I truly believed I had finally found my place in the Austrian Christmas food world.

But maybe that’s the real Austrian Christmas tradition. Not carp, not sausages, not even Braten. But the quiet acceptance that everyone does it a little differently, and that all of these versions somehow coexist.
Christmas Eve here isn’t about doing it right. It’s about doing it yours. Whether that’s carp, Würstel, scrambled eggs with truffle, or deep-fried fish on onion-patterned porcelain you thought would be part of your life forever.

Traditions change, meals rotate, and sometimes even the carp disappears again. But somehow, it still feels exactly right.
(Even if I’m secretly hoping the carp comes back.)

Eleonore Marie Stifter - Resident Viennese. Writes about culture, taste, and the art of complaining beautifully.