Cafés & Restaurants

Where to go for food on a Sunday night after an evening in sleepy Buda? Most people will tell you to head for the "Pancake Palace" - the Nagyi Palacsinasója, or just "Nagyi Pali" as their fans call it. It's just off the Danube, not far from the M2 Metro's Batthyány tér station.

Now, since you are in Hungary, common sense should tell you that while you are at a restaurant whose name translates to "The Pancake Palace" you really shouldn't be expecting a huge stack of blueberry flapjacks topped with a big pad of gently melting butter and Vermont maple syrup pouring down the side of the stack in perfect symmetry like some fucking Aunt Jemima commercial.

However, like me, you're from America. And we know what pancakes REALLY are, don't we? Bizony!

Well we're not in Kansas anymore, Bozo. Here in Budapest you will have to re-think what a pancake is. What you get at the Nagyi Palacsinasója are really crépes - two more or less separate menus segregated between sweet and savory options. You can have a Brokkolis-csirkés (Chicken and Broccoli) or Mexikói-húsos (meaty Mexican) "pancake" generously topped with téjföl (sour cream) for a main course, and follow it up with a yummy Mogyorókrémes (Hungarian Nutella) or Pudingos gyümölcsös (Fruit Pudding) for dessert.

The prices are certainly agreeable here - most items on the menu are under a dollar. This is why it's so popular with Budapesti, whose wages are still trying to catch up with inflation. Of course you're getting light fare, but a couple of crepes for a couple of bucks has to be considered a fine bargain anywhere on the globe.

This may be why everybody who comes here is so excited they can barely restrain themselves from pulling out their Szankovits knives and carving up the heavy wooden tables with entreaties of love. Szeretünk, Nagyi Palacsinasója.

Menza is a restaurant on Liszt Ferec Tér that I like very much. It is a place that is overlooked by the more discriminating binge drinking tourist yobbos, passed over for greener binge drinking pastures down the street a-ways.



Decked out in an extreme 90s-meets-70s interior design scheme that would be at home in Silver Lake or Brooklyn, Menza's room feels spacious and comfortable. Its clientele tilts towards hipster expats and Hungarian entrepreneurs. You can kick back with friends and people watch while eating some of the best examples of refined Hungarian cuisine.

Yes, I said "Hungarian cuisine" - usually a self-canceling phrase. At Menza however they seem to strive for an overhaul of the Central European diet that is as modern as their trip-hop DJ bachelor pad interior would suggest. Yummy mini-langos and great soups are a standout for me. Unlike many restaurants of this kind who strive to impress with refinement, the portions can be ample.

This has become my go-to restaurant for out-of-towner pals who are looking for something new but still part of a Hungarian experience. Thumbs up from me for Menza.

Csirke-Fogó is a fast food joint prominently located at Deák Tér near the end of Andrássy Út. Their specialty is chicken breast fried schnitzel-style, put on a bun with red cabbage and mayo and tomato, and wrapped up in foil for you to take along. Or you can eat it there while sitting at the window if you enjoy being a human billboard.

When you peek in through the window the stuff they serve looks greasy and unpalatable, but it's actually not bad. I had one while bopping around the vicinity and it was just the thing for a walk over the bridge and taking photos on a cold night.

They have something of a selection besides chicken sandwiches. They have a "Vegetarian Plate", salads and fried mushrooms. They even serve Hungarian Fruit Soup (Gyümölcsleves)! Nothing to go out of your way for, but it's better than it looks - and it's about the only food you'll get within striking distance of Andrássy Út that isn't grossly overpriced.

As artsy as I might seem to some people who know me from writing this blog, and see that I'm spending all my time taking photos like a possessed thing, and waxing swoony poetic about this city... I am actually pretty down-to-earth about my favorite things.

My favorite painting ever is Washington Crossing the Delaware. My favorite writer is Mark Twain. And my favorite restaurant in Budapest is...

Paprika Vendéglő, that traditional Hungarian restaurant up on György Dózsa út, Hösök Tére-close and serving up the classics every day.



The atmosphere is a bit goofy, but in the right way. It looks like a movie set or national park reconstruction of a puszta ranch house circa 1820. Whole logs of various sizes hammered together are your seating options (with cushions, thankfully). Sheepskins hang from the rafters and farm tools drip from the walls.

I've had many dishes here: Rosemary Flavored Lamb Knuckle with Mashed Potatoes, Beefsteak with 4-Pepper Sauce and Steamed Vegetables, and the Iron Plate Grilled Chicken Breast with Three-Cheese Sauce with House-Made Croquettes, and they're all great. Nothing a trendy chef would rave about, but that's the beauty of it. I think of this not as a travel guide destination but as comfort food central where I can always get something satisfying.

The gyulásleves (that's goulash to you gringos) here is great. Served in little stainless steel tureens with white bread and that indispensable Hungarian condiment, éros pista, it's delicious and enough for a meal. If you limit yourself to a nice bowl of Paprika's gyulás, you'll find that the price for your part of the tab barely breaks $5, tip included.

My favorite main course is the Roast Pork "Gypsy Style" with Mashed Potatoes with Onions. This is a sauteed pork cutlet over potatoes with a slice of smoked pork fat over the top for flavor. The pork fat is not intended for consumption, it's there to simply add a trace of drippings for flavor.

This pork-fat-as-condiment thing is a culinary fact of life all over central Europe, which can be a bit of culture shock for diet-neurotic Americans and Brits whenever they run into it. But in moderation it's really pretty tasty, and I can say that despite this element in a lot of the cooking here I haven't gained any weight yet.

If you're looking for traditional Hungarian food and don't want to end up in a clip joint, Paprika Vendéglő is definitely worth checking out.

To be a real Hungarian, you have to make regular visits to a cukrászda part of your routine.

A cukrászda is generally a combination bakery, coffee house, gelato parlor, and sweet shop. This institution is one of the best things to come out of the ruins of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and Hungarian káveház culture. You can grab a table with a friend and just have a coffee, buy a latte and a nice bit of cake and linger, or just stop in and bring a little parcel home for the family.

Bring a little parcel home for the family? Tote around six different pieces of cake on the Metro? No problem. Seems that every cukrászda clerk knows how to expertly wrap a piece of cake in a small piece of butcher paper so that no matter how hard you get jostled by your fellow commuters on the way home, when you unwrap the package the whipped cream looks like it was just applied by the pastry chef herself.

I've been to a few dozen of these places now, and my favorite is a little place in Újpest called Harangvirág ("The Bellflower"). It is owned by the Kisgergely company, who have another shop and bakery center at some other part of the city.

Often the fancier the cukrászda or káveház, the less inspired the pastry selection, and it is often not as fresh. The Harangvirág is always fresh, has a great selection, and I've never seen it without at least a couple of customers. The counterpeople are pretty nice too.



I have a sacred mission to sample every single thing they sell here. I'm about at the half-way point now. Here are the best of my findings so far:

The Rigó Jancsi is a must-try - squares of chocolate cake sandwiching whipped cream and thick mousse, with the top square frosted with a thin layer of dark chocolate glaze. Another amazing creation is Fekete Erdõ torta - a long slice of heaven made up of alternating layers of cake, whipped cream and light chocolate mousse dotted with sour black cherries. Shaved chocolate on the top too. A superior version of we know in the USA as Black Forest Torte. One bite of Harangvirág's Fekete Erdõ and you say what did I do right in this life that I should deserve this?

All the various other tortas are done right too: Tiramisu, Sacher and the Oroszkrém (Russian Cream) with its whipped cream filling laced with little white raisins.

Also worth a try is the popular Piramis, a slice of a pyramid-shaped multi-layer cake that, as it sits in the refrigerated display, looks like it might be a bit dry but is really surprisingly light and moist. At least it always is at the Harangvirág!

I'm not really running a food blog or comprehensive review of Budapest attractions here, but I should put the address of this place as it's off the beaten trail a bit:

HARANGVIRÁG CUKRÁSZDA | István út 12, 1041 Budapest

CAFE SPERL

Saturday morning was spent at the Café Sperl, one of the last of the historic Viennese coffee houses. Over 120 years old, it still maintains much the same ambiance as it had in the good old days. First-class coffee too.

But Saturday started on a total downer because of the unfriendly demeanor and rude incompetence at this place.

Are you feeling like you're getting to be too "PC"? Modern world wearing you down, molding you into a passive-aggressive simp? Well come on down to Vienna's Café Sperl and you are as good as cured!

Just sit yourself down and subject yourself to the service staff at the Café Sperl. After an hour's worth of dealing with their mean old battleaxe waitresses, all your sensitivity to age, gender, nationality and humanity will break down - and you too will find expressions like the following escaping from between your gritted teeth:

Then you stlff them on the tip. Get your aggression out and save a few euro to boot!

---

KOLAR

If you need an antidote to the kind of frigid service treatment you get at the Sperl, drop by the anti-Sperl, Kolar. This is a café/bar not too far from the Rathaus U-Bahn that's hopping till late with a cheery crowd of sociable folks. Kolar serve several fine beers on draught including a few house-brewed varieties, the taps of which never seem to stop pumping.

The word "kolar" means "wood-fired oven" in old German, and refers to the menu here - a selection of wood-oven baked pita-pizzas using regional ingredients like Emmentaler cheese and Austrian ham. These creations are very tasty.

The star of the place when we visited was a wiry, dark-haired waiter who orbits the place taking orders from everyone and infected all with his suave sense of fun and boundless energy.

8 p.m. in the city and we wanted something to munch. Something different, hopefully.

When it comes to dining out, "Something different" takes on a profound meaning in Budapest, which is not up to cosmopolitan standards of New York or London when it comes to variety of cuisine. You get too specific about your cravings here and you are T.S.O.L.

So if you keep an open mind and go with the flow, you can be pleasantly surprised. Responding to the clarion call of "something different", Vera suggests Iguana Bar & Grill, a Mexican/Tex-Mex joint in a quiet and somewhat residential area of the V district. American Embassy-close, for all those Bush-appointed diplomats who go a bit nuts when they can't get a japapeño now and then.

The place was packed, and from the looks of it a reservation is de rigeur - though Vera told me that it's not nearly as hopping a place on weekday nights.

We ordered a big quesadilla, deluxe nachos and steak fajitas. All possessed decent USA Mexican restaurant quality and taste, which puts them well ahead of the curve in Central Europe. I have heard the margaritas get high marks here too, but we didn't indulge.

As we ate we admired the colorful decor and dozens of lobby card art of Mexi-Hollywood films from the 40s and 50s.

I thought the fajitas were pretty damn good. So good that I felt compelled to call my pal Casey from the table to comment on them. Casey is a native of Austin, TX - an institution, in fact - something of a legend among artists in Texas for his tireless efforts to promote Texas culture. If anyone could fact-check my positive impressions of a Budapest fajita, it would be Casey.

A glance at my dual-face watch told me that it was high noon in Austin, and I had a good chance of finding him in his office near the phone.

SF: Hey Casey!
C: Speaking.
SF: Hey it's SF!
C: OK where you at now?
SF: I'm in Budapest.
C: OK, right, Budapest. I guess I knew that. What's goin' on man?
SF: I'm here in a Mexican restaurant eating fajitas and thought of you, brother.
C: (dryly) I'm so honored.
SF: Hey you should be! My Domino card will toast after this call.
C: So how are the fajitas? Did they get the peppers right?
SF: Well that's one thing Hungarians really know how to do, so I think so. Multicolored, some yellow, I see a few red ones. Is that... yah, I think a green one there too. Very patriotic.
C: That's good. How about the cheese? Is it yellow cheddar?
SF: Yes, it's cheddar, they didn't cheat with gouda or anything like that.
C: Yeah but is it yellow? Gotta be bright yellow, man.
SF: Well, no. It's white.
C: See, that's a MAYjor faux-pas. Yellow cheese is standard. What're your tortillas like? Flour or corn?
SF: Flour.
C: Should be corn, really. Large corn is best. And the meat - is it cut into strips or they tryin' to pass ground chuck off on y'all?
SF: No, they make 'em with sirloin strips, nicely seasoned and no gristle so far.
C: (long pause) Well I guess that's all right.
SF: So we're good? Your stamp of approval?
C: Well jeez man, I'm not there - so don't ask me. But they sound all ri-

At this point a recorded Hungarian voice came on and told me that my Domino card would need to be recharged, so I had to leave Casey to his business.

But there you have it - an improbable review of Iguana Bar and Grill from a respected Texas source. And it didn't cost me an AP syndication fee or nuthin'!

Met The Hub at a cool place I've never been to before, Csendes. It's an "art bar" located near the Astoria Hotel in V District that serves a respectable selection of beers and spirits. Nice big room full of students, Lonely Planet-reading tourists and other wayfaring strangers.



Csendes is a dizzy spectacle. The walls and ceilings are art statements using clusters of old toys, collages made of cut-and-paste magazine pictures, random household and personal items, and other gee-gaws from their favorite thrift store's dumpster afterhours. You may find yourself spacing out on the surroundings the first few visits here. I know I was.

There is, in fact, what looks like a working studio in the rear where I believe the art in the bar is created. Thinking that the rear doorway was another room for customers, I peered in and found a lanky boho looking fellow sitting on a stool in front of a pile of plastic dolls, staring into space. When he saw me, I gave a little wave. He dreamily nodded in reply as I respectfully retreated back into the main room.

A chalkboard at the entrance listing all the alcohol selections. It was too tall for me to deal with without getting vertigo. No problem though, as menus scattered about on every table reiterate the large selection.

Guinness on tap is a plus, as is the assortment of whiskies. Whiskey seems to be getting a modest foothold here, though I don't personally know anyone who drinks it besides me. Two years ago it was an exotic bar that had even a bottle of Jack Daniels; now Jack is everywhere, and Jim is the new kid on the block. Jim Beam, that is. That black and white retro label is on many Budapest bar shelves now despite the fact that it's a fairly mediocre variety of bourbon.


A musical duo came on about 9 p.m. A singer and a guy with a nylon string guitar, boxed into a corner at a table with a small P.A. system. Performing some kind of mellow jazzy fare. Not all that too mellow perhaps as we often had to yell over the strumming to have a conversation. But music in a smoky corner, two dudes being as samba as they wanna be... hey, love it.

So it was against this backdrop I had a fine old time talking with The Hub. Talking with them about everything, it seems, except our blogs. Hungarian politics, culture, writing influences, etc.

The Hub is unique among Budapest portals in that they make forays into true creative writing, and bust out of the blog template when the need arises. Other portals like Caboodle and Pestiside are valuable and well run, but they stick to more standard blog formats. I like the freedom of The Hub quite a lot, and get good detailed info there.

Around midnight we went over to Mumus for a few more beers. We squeezed in a late dinner of falafel at a Turkish dive with a sleazy name in-between bars.

The kert section at Mumus was actually open tonight, though nobody was out there to take advantage of the colored lights and wide open spaces. There is an upstairs too, apparently used by some wedding party recently from the looks of the James Thurber-inspired art directing people up the curving staircase. If it wasn't for The Hub I would have never known about this third area of Mumus. Well not until I find myself wandering up to explore it at some future wee hour, as I am wont to do when tipsy.

Mumus was mellower and slower tonight that a couple of weeks ago when me and the UK lads stumbled into it. All the better - perfect conditions in which to photograph the immortal mural in the men's room without a grouchy audience.

Last week my pal Dave went back to the UK, after staying an extra day just to catch up. Looked for a place to have lunch in inclement weather.



Ended up lunch at the Centrál Kávéház, mostly by accident. We were slowly making our way back to the Ferihegy shuttle pick-up location near the Vaci Útca. Snowing out, and we couldn't keep looking forever for a place to eat that wasn't a tourist trap.

Through the window the place looked a mite fancy for a casual lunch. In our boots and casual togs we felt we might get the brush from the host... sent off to the Siberia of the bar, never to be seated in hopes that we would just down a few brews and go away. This happens here, I know. But the impeccably-mannered waiter who greeted us treated us like a couple of swells, guiding us into the main dining room and giving us a fine little table near the window.

Hard to believe that this elegant place is one of the classic locations for café culture in turn-of-the-century Budapest. Like the old New York Café, The Centrál was a highly-trafficked magnet for Budapest's literary lions before WWII. It's been restored by pharmaceutical czar and philanthropist Somody Imre; a small plaque at the entrance so honors him.

Looking over the menus we found that there was some confusion about the split between the Centrál's Étterem and Kávéház areas. They serve different food in the Café part, which is the food we wanted. But it's fine to order from either menu.

The Kávéház was bustling at 1:30 p.m., the étterem not so busy as all that. This was a bonus. Quite nice to have couple of beers in the quiet of the warm and handsome dining room with a load of wet snow coming down outside.

The menu had a lot of wonderful-sounding items on it. But we didn't sample the gamut of the offerings - just had a couple of cups of Jokai Bean Soup, Paradicsom Saláta and Uborka Saláta starters. All were above average, boding well for the full dinner experience.

After the food I shot the moon and had a "French Kiss" - espresso with Grand Marnier with a big spritz of whipped cream on top. Despite the fact that it's one of the fruitiest looking coffees I've ever been served, the taste was quite fine.

After another round of Dreher Bak, we had to bail in a hurry to make the shuttle. These shuttles rarely leave on time - if they're early and fully loaded with passengers, they'll likely drive off 10 minutes ahead of schedule on the driver's whim. Sure enough, when we get to the Deák Tér pickup spot it looks deserted. Sad little travel agency window, looking as dead and lifeless as as the Bush presidency.

But then a horn honks and we turn round to see the van through a new curtain of snow flurries. Just enough time to activate the 2-second timer and get another shot to document another round of good times with me mate!

The UK group needed food tonight, but all the restaurants we wanted to eat at on the spur of the moment were playing coy. Yes, we could be seated, were were told at Menza - if we wanted to wait at the bar for two hours.

So we decided to head towards XIII district. Possibility of some interesting eateries, and the walk is entertaining on a Friday night for the visitor, through a Teréz körút crowded with all forms of Budapest life.

On our way we ran into the Noa Grill House. Looked interesting, and we noticed that there were some tables open. We decided to check it out.

From the outside signage and slick graphics on the menus and table cards, Noa Grill House looks like it would have to be part of a foreign restaurant chain. But it is in fact a local restaurant, with a sister café down the street near Nyugati Palyaudvar.

The food was surprisingly good. I didn't have much expectation of this place, figured it was just a decent place to take 4 starving people from out of town. But it was very nice, and though it has a few entrees on the menu that break the 4000 forint ($20) barrier, the price is reasonable for the quality. The menu features Hungarian classics and more universal cosmopolitan fare if you're tired of magyar comfort food.

They also have televisions on the walls.

Yes. Really. TV. In a restaurant.

THERE SHOULD NEVER, EVER BE A TELEVISION IN A RESTAURANT!

Television in a bar? Fine. Always nice to go someplace to meet with the lads and watch some World Cup action or see the San Francisco Giants put a beating on the L. A. Dodgers. Those big plasma screens serve their purpose well when you want to focus on the action over a few rounds. But that's for bars - not restaurants.

A restaurant is where you meet with friends, catch up, enjoy some food together, share jokes and stories. No matter how addicted you are to TV, you have to think it a mite odd that you yourself would take the trouble to sit in a public place with your special people only to space out on a monitor on the wall above the bar while they tell you about their lives.

This one guy I saw at Noa Grill spent the whole time with his glazed eyes staring over the shoulder of his girlfriend, totally ignoring her as he watched some spiky-haired dipshit on Megasztar sing "Careless Whisper". Grounds for breakup?

THERE SHOULD NEVER, EVER BE A TELEVISION IN A RESTAURANT!

And now I will keep mum and won't say anything about the food at Noa Grill House. I'll come back and write about their delicious Chicken with Lemon Grass and Winter Mushrooms over Jasmine Rice in more detail after they've ripped those damn things off the walls. Get a clue, Mr. Cohen!

With the UK crew in Buda one night last week, hungry and searching for food. Spotted the Szeged Vendeglö, a place near the Gellert Hotel that had a distinctly traditional Hungarian feel. Thought it might be worth a go.

As they scanned the outside menu, I peered in the restaurant's picture window.

"Look!"
"What?"
"Gypsies!"

We shielded our eyes from the streetlamps, pressed our faces up to the glass and saw a formally-attired quartet playing that good old-time Transylvanian music to an empty room.

I got excited. For all the months I've been here I've never eaten at a restaurant with live "gypsy" music. The only "gypsy" restaurants I have been to play FM radio for entertainment. I never thought that Bon Jovi or Celine Dion enhanced the experience of a good cigánypecsenye, but to the locals they're as much a part of the down-home diet as erös pista or paradicsom saláta.

The guys at Szeged Vendeglö were probably not real gypsies - to my eyes they were just dark haired Hungarian guys with ample waistlines. And it was a somewhat cleaned-up version of gypsy music they were playing on violin, guitar, double bass and cimbalom. But it was real music in a restaurant. How could I let my friends leave Hungary without trying it? "Let's go!"



Yes, Szeged Vendeglö is a tourist trap. An upstanding and dignified one, but still a tourist trap. The menu is staid, the prices no bargain. But a fun trip nonetheless. As the violinist pounced on the diners of the only other occupied table and played them an adulterated verbunkos in hopes of lightening them of some or all of their financial burden, we were seated by a window and reviewed the menu.

Lots of things to choose from, with an interesting array of starters. Many recipes featured were a distinguished departure or embellishment upon trad Hungarian fare. Our crew spent a fair amount of time making up our minds.

The regional specialty of Szeged is hálaszle, a spicy fish soup which I don't really care for. But I wanted to have some fish, if only for a change of pace in this landlocked country. I asked the waiter how fresh the fish was. Thought possibly there was some daily delivery for fresh pike and carp from Lake Balaton. From the evasive fragmented answer we got, we assumed their seafood is frozen. Not a surprise. I ordered the catfish with sour cream sauce anyway.

The cimbalom pinged away as the solicitous pincér brought forth the courses. We got a decent red wine from Egri and a sour soup with sausage and potatoes for starters. On the whole the food was just OK. This was the verdict from the rest of the group about their selections as well. Like any dependable tourist restaurant, Szeged Vendeglö hedge their bets by serving dishes with tight controls on the spices and maybe on the chef too. Or maybe he's just bored with the gig.

The musicians left us alone until the entrees were cleared away. With the table ready for coffee and dessert, the violinist came and serenaded Britta with one of Transylvania's more obscure mega-hits. A 500 forint tip placed in the strings only added kerosene to the flame of his musical passion, so he went over to Rob's side of the table and gave him an earful too. The technique and polish of the violinist was impressive, he rasped the bow at poignant moments and made statements with delicately fingered grace notes at the end of one bit like a magyar Count Basie.

Another 500 forints and he started asking for requests. We didn't have the heart to mess with his head by asking for Search & Destroy, so the old reliable European ballad Gloomy Sunday was called out and played.

As we were making to leave, we had to stiff him on the last tip to get him go away so we could get out of the place. This didn't stop him from coming by the table and hawking the band's CD. His face betrayed confusion at our apologies for not purchasing:

"Sorry dude... already got it off Limewire".








Continue reading "Szeged Vendeglö" »

Drinking with The Hub last night at Pot Kulcs. After having a fine old time over a few rounds of Staropramen, we felt the need to eat something.

In Budapest, you have a galaxy of choices before you when in search of a drunken nosh. You can have a gyros, or a larger gyros. Or a gyros without the paprika sauce. Or two gyros. Or a falafel if you can't stand the idea of yet another 11:30 p.m. gyros to help you sober up.

As we walked down Teréz Körút in search of yet another gyros, we came upon the screaming facade of Arriba Taqueria. I had heard of this place and was familiar with their slogan "FRESH MEXICAN IN BUDAPEST" from my many viewings of their omnipresent and aggressive online marketing. A mustachioed cartoon character of Frida Kahlo glared at us through the tall windows, daring us to enter.

Yeh, Mexican food, perfect timing, brilliant - a rare change of pace.

We scanned the overhead menu and found a simplified version of the classic taqueria lineup. The pretty countergirls of Arriba trotted up, asked us téssek. The Hub ordered two tacos - one chicken and one steak. SFinBudapest ordered "uno pollo burrito con salsa de tomate en guacamole, köszönöm szépen".

A generous array of condiments were available for my creation - salsas, fresh cilantro, téjfol, fresh lime slices. Guacamole is free at Arriba, which is nice but this is also as it should be for a snack that costs 1450 HUF.

The food isn't the only pricey thing in Arriba. While waiting for the orders we noticed that they also sell shopping bags with splashy and scratchy Arriba logo Mexi-graphics on them for 3500 HUF. Even with the forint reeling, that comes to about $16.00 US. No muy barato.

The food came and we dove in. The taste was pretty good, I would compare it to Baja Fresh or a decent gringo taqueria. But there was something different about my burrito. A spice, an aftertaste. Is was not a bad flavor but it made it hard to place it on my inner Mexican food rating chart. This was strange, because as a native Californian I've had a lot of Mexican food to compare it to. I had to admit I had never had a burrito quite like this one.

The Hub was enjoying the soft tacos and asked my opinion. "How's yours?"

And then it hit me. "It... it tastes just like a gyros!"



The Hub has written an Arriba Taqueria review - check it out.

Came down to the város szivében today to sit in the Sirály Café... and write about the Sirály Café.

It's a good old casual place like colorful USA coffeehouses of yore, before they all got put out of business by Starbucks. Here you find good coffee, interesting people and a tenuous wi-fi connection (don't expect a lengthy Skype chat here). There's seating on the street level, an upper floor, plus cubbyholes on the spiral staircase where, whether you be scum or cream, you can find your own level.

There are more than a few fashionably scruffy places like Sirály in this town that know the long-term value in keeping it real. These establishments are not as fly-by-night funky as they want to appear to be - they're usually startups run by entrepreneurs loaded with either pounds or euros. But as young Budapesti continue to fill the tables at these places, I predict there will be more cool places like these built with Magyar money in the coming years.

Interesting people in the Sirály, I said. Yah. The last time I was here there was some artsy looking guy who sat in the center table on the main floor and wore one of the café's ashtrays on his head the whole afternoon.

One thing about the Sirály is that it sometimes seems everybody who walks in here works here. Today I think I've seen a dozen people stomp right on in, walk behind the bar and help themselves to the lot.

I love eavesdropping on Sirály conversations. Sitting next to me at this moment is a German gal, about 28, chatting over some 3-handed bridge with an UK couple the same age. German gal is saying that some 85-year old Hungarian guy she knows is a "sexy modderfucker". Her pals answer: "Brilliant! Does he play Scrabble?"

Dress code at the Sirály...

MEN: Motocross jacket with sparse patches. Can substitute with army jacket without patches. Black Timberline bootie-shoes. Messenger bag. Indian neck-sari or whatever those blasted things are called, dripping down the front Keith Richard-style.

WOMEN: A zip hoodie and long dangle-muffler. Either a smart skirt or dowdy trousers - your choice. Tights. Sensible shoes. Dangle-muffler can be substituted for Indian neck-sari dripping down the front Keith Richard-style.

As I chuckled about this social behaviour, I happened to look down and notice what I myself am wearing. Well dang me if it isn't... a zip-hoodie and long dangle-muffler. I guess my existential individualism is confined to being gender-confused in my conformity.

Went to the Csülök Vendéglő (Pig's Knuckle Restaurant) tonight for some top notch local food. It looks like a tacky Slovakian beer garden, but that's par for the course here if you want a down-home restaurant that rises above the norm. If you run into a place in town that advertises real Hungarian cuisine in a modern setting you're probably being taken.

You can tell you are in for great food at a Hungarian restaurant by the side dishes, and they were great here. Virtually every vendéglő (casual restaurant) in Hungary has the same sides - paradicsom salata (tomato salad, usually sliced tomatoes in light vinegar and salt) and uborka salata (cucumber slices with vinegar dressing and a bit of sour cream) are the most popular. If these menu items strike you as more than an afterthought on the part of the chef, then the main courses are sure to please.

Standout items here are:
"Jokai" Bean Soup (with knuckle of ham, sausage and sour cream)
Deviled Carp (fish fillets with stewed onion, tomatoes & paprika, sour cream, oven-baked potatoes)
Pörkölt Csirkes (chicken stew over gnocchi)

Couldn't help but notice that the place was filled with hard-ass local characters that looked to be a world away from the poncified crowds that one sees in, say, the central part of Pest around Liszt Ferenc tér. There was a long banquet table in the back that was occupied by about 10 pugnacious-seeming guys who wouldn't have looked out of place at a pub in central Wales.

A good omen, I thought as we sat down - if you can't make smoked pork knuckle stuffed chicken to please these guys, you're definitely not doing it right.