It was my second and final day in Budapest. I had planned a self-guided walking tour of the eastern Pest side of the river, arranging my route not only to see some of the famous sights but also to hit as many bakeries as possible—not to sample sweets in all of them, necessarily, but to indulge in the visual fantasy of pastries and chocolate.
My morning consisted of a three-hour stroll past such landmarks as the Great Synagogue, Varosliget Park, the Széchenyi Baths, and the Budapest Zoo. I only managed to find one of the pastry shops along the way but resisted the temptation to order anything. I did locate Gundel, purportedly the city’s finest restaurant and where I was hoping to have lunch. One of my main reasons for visiting Budapest was to sample authentic Hungarian gulyás, and I had read that Gundel’s version was outstanding. However, as I stood perusing the menu posted outside, I was disappointed to find that the dish was not being served that day.
So I took the Metro’s yellow line—the oldest subway in continental Europe—back toward the city center and Deák Ferenc square. Since it was a direct trip with no transfers, I was able to buy a single ticket and avoid the hassle I had experienced the day before. From there, I wandered awhile longer, searching unsuccessfully for yet another restaurant on my list.
I ended up near Csarnok Vendéglő, where I had enjoyed a delicious meal my first evening. I decided to eat there again, since I remembered seeing gulyás on the menu. The restaurant was packed with a noisy lunch crowd, but I was able to snag a free table outside. Naturally, I ordered the gulyás, which was more of a soup than a stew, prepared with a little beef and lots of potato and carrots. I also tried the mushroom appetizer: stuffed with chicken livers, the mushroom caps were pressed together in pairs, deep fried, and served in a red wine gravy. For dessert, I was hoping to order the chocolate palacsinta (crêpe), but sadly, they were all out.
After lunch, I walked to the Parliament building and sat in the square to rest a bit and reassess my schedule. Because of my change in plans at lunchtime, I wouldn’t be able to make it to some of the bakeries farther afield, but there was one located just north of Parliament. Once I had rested sufficiently, I paid a visit to Szalai Cukrászda and treated myself to a slice of dobostorte. Like all the ones I had seen in both Vienna and Budapest, this one had the requisite six thin layers of sponge cake, the top slice covered in thick, crunchy caramel and the rest filled with chocolate buttercream.
My next stop was the Great Market Hall, just a couple blocks south of my hotel. The vast Neo-Gothic building comprised three floors, the main level filled with rows and rows of food stalls, selling a variety of produce, meats, spices, and sweets. There, I replenished my supply of bananas—my perpetually reliable, easily transportable snack, which I would need for the following day’s train ride to Trieste. On my way back to Hotel Art, I also picked up a sandwich for my lunch on the train.
For dinner, I went to a restaurant called Greens, which was on my trusty guidebook list and that I had passed by earlier near the Synagogue. The review raved about the variety of vegetable dishes, all prepared Hungarian-style, such as pumpkin stew and spinach in cream sauce. There was no menu posted outside, so I took a chance and went in. As it turned out, the only vegetables on the menu were fried cauliflower and fried mushrooms. So instead, I ordered the paprikás csirke (chicken paprikash) and a “mixed” salad. The salad consisted primarily of iceberg lettuce tossed in a creamy, pickly dressing, with four tomato slices, a mound of pickles, and a dollop of sour cream. The chicken was prepared with a creamy paprika sauce that was surprisingly bland, and served on a huge plate with about three cups worth of tiny, doughy dumplings. When I had finished eating as much as I possibly could, it looked like I had barely made a dent in the food. They offered palacsinta on the dessert menu here as well, but I was so stuffed, I reluctantly had to forgo the crêpes yet again.
