A matter of taste and opinion

Hello folks,

Well, content for the old blog is a bit thin these days. With funds slowly dwindling (not really, but we are being careful) eating out either happens:

a) on the cheap

b) when we're drunk; or

c) a & b combined.

Good thing we're in Berlin, where rents and food are cheap!

If anyone reading knows Mr von S in real life, they would know of his love for KFC a.k.a. the dirty bird, a.k.a. the Colonel. Sometimes his love for KFC competes with his love for me, especially if I've done something mean, like make fun of how much time he spends on the Internet, his one blond eyebrow or how skinny he is (I love you baby!!)

Anyway, we were sitting together one afternoon, trying to think of where the nearest fast food outlet was located (we may have been hungover) and I commented that I couldn't even think of where the nearest KFC was. It turns out KFC, like most of Berlin's fast food outlets, is located in the middle* of the city, Alexanderplatz bahnhof. There you can find McDonalds and KFC. But what's squished between both of those stores? A currywurst restaurant and two bakeries, and just a little further down the line, a döner stand.

We came to the conclusion that Berlin lacks the big-name fast food restaurants because frankly, it's hard to compete in a city that worships at the altar of currywurst and döner every Sunday (albeit a little bit earlier than standard church-going hours. Try 3am).

According to Wikipedia döner, like currywurst, originated in Berlin, “The German-style döner kebab was supposedly invented by a Turkish immigrant in Berlin in the 1970s, and became a popular German take-away food during the 1990s.”

So what is it that makes up this German-style döner? Well, specifics change from stand to stand, but generally the German-style döner is this: turkish bread, warmed and pressed in a sandwich grill, meat from the spit, which may be lamb, beef or chicken (did you know that döner kebab actually means rotating meat?) salad of some variety – may be lettuce, tomato, cucumber, onion, and a choice of three sauces: scharfe (hot) knoblauch (garlic) and kraute (herbed mayo-type sauce). Varieties on the standard include the addition of fried vegetables, feta cheese, a spritz of lemon or even french fries.

Contemplating my döner

Vegetarians reading need not feel excluded. Given that Turkey is an Islamic country, a portion of the population are also practising vegetarians, and thus tofu kebabs, falafel kebabs, or even just a normal kebab sans meat are often available on menus.

Given that döner is available to both vegetarians and omnivores, it's no surprise that the döner industry in Germany is booming. According to Tarkan Tasyumruk, president of the Association of Turkish Döner Producers in Europe (yes, it's a real association!), in 2010 more than 400 tonnes of döner kebab meat was produced every day, and annual sales of döner in Germany amount to EUR2.5 billion.

I mentioned earlier that food in Berlin is cheap. Taking into account that the average döner ranges in price from EUR2.50 – EUR3.50, that's an incredible amount of döner being consumed in a country stereotypically pegged as being wurst and kraut eaters. Well, make that wurst, kraut and döner eaters!

Just as everyone has their opinion on who does the best kebabs in Berlin (Mustafa's Gemüse Kebap on Mehringdamm for me) everyone has an opinion on which is better: Döner Kebab or Döner Dürüm? I've weighed up pros and cons of the two main types of döner available in Berlin below.

Döner Dürüm

Probably what people from Australia and New Zealand would call a kebab – meat from the spit, wrapped in flat bread and dripping with garlic sauce. Oh, and salad too!

According to some, the dürüm has its advantage as a better 'traveller' – being all snuggly rolled up, there is less chance of spillage when consuming. Dürüm also contains more filling, as the flat bread is considerably larger that its Turkish-bread rival.

However, if one is to have more, one is to pay more. Generally, a dürüm is approximately 50 cents more expensive than a döner, and sometimes, no matter how tightly wrapped, if you're a battler when you eat, there is no saving you nor that precious piece of extra crispy meat from hitting the floor.

The perfect travel-snack: dürüm

Döner Kebab

Fresh turkish bread, toasted and then loaded up with goodies. I think of the döner kebab as the original; after all, when ordering in Germany, one simply asks for a döner, and this is what you get.

Advantages of the döner include being able to select which section to bite from i.e. ooh, I see you there, extra tasty portion of meat *chomp* and affordability. If you're a texture person, like me, the döner is the way to go – freshly toasted bread? Heck yes!

Disadvantage (really, there's only one) - ridiculously messy to eat, even for neat eaters such as myself.

As I said earlier, everyone has their preference. For me, the winner will always be the döner – the original, and the best. The combination of freshly toasted bread, being able to pick out bits of meat and fried vegetables, and the ability to show off my neat eating skills? Well, it's obvious!

So friends, what's your opinion: döner or dürüm? And for interests' sake – where's your favourite kebab shop, and what makes it special?

xx Fifi von Strudel

* it feels like Berlin doesn't really have a centre, a real heart, but I'd say it's somewhere in Mitte. Berlin lacks high rises and other cues which indicate a central business district. For me, the closest city centre feeling is in Mitte, near the Brandenburg Gate, near Friedrichstrasse U-bahn.

Strudel for One

Presently unoccupied and without means of income, I have taken it upon myself to fill my days with reading blogs, reading books, watching Mad Men, trying new dinner recipes and coming up with reasons to blog (and occasionally applying for jobs).

Today's reason to blog: attempt to fatten-up skinny boyfriend.

As luck would have it, travelling had opposite affects on me and my beloved: while I stacked it on (my name's Fifi and I'm addicted to baklava), he lost it. Since settling down in Berlin, we are now trying to do the opposite once again: I'm trying to lose it, he's trying to stack it on.

One way of torturing myself/assisting Mr von Strudel in his weight gain attempts is to cook for him. Or rather, bake for him. Today's helpful assistance was to create that German/Austrian classic, and my namesake: Apfel Strudel.

One thing that needs to be said before I forge ahead and give you recipes is this: I am an intuitive baker/cook. This in turn annoys the bejeebus out of Mr von Strudel who is attempting to learn to cook some of my recipes. Recipes which actually don't exist. Recipes which change almost every time I cook them.

So, without further a-do, Fifi von Strudel's strudel (or more accurately Apfeltasche - apple pocket)

If you have oodles of time on your hands, you can make your own puff-pastry. I have oodles of time, but the thought of making my own pastry frightens me (kind of like creating a sour dough starter...it's ALIVE) so I used the pre-made, frozen stuff.

Zutaten/ingredients

1 sheet of puff pastry

1 granny smith apple, peeled, cored, chopped into 2cm cubes

squirt of lemon juice to keep apples from browning

1 tablespoon powdered sugar

1 teaspoon cinnamon

3 tablespoons water

Methode/Method

Pour water, sugar and cinnamon into a pot and bring to boil. Add apples and cook until water mixture nearly evaporated (5 minutes or so). Arrange apples on pastry and fold, pinching the edges to seal. Poke some holes to allow any extra steam to escape. Bake for 15 minutes.

Sift some powdered sugar over the top and eat. This one may need a couple of minutes to cool, or a sign that says 'Caution: contents hot'. Pour some custard/cream/ice cream over the top for extra fattening/deliciousness.

Personally, I felt this recipe could be improved – although I promise only tasted a tiny bit – by adding custard to the apple mixture.

Perhaps that can be tomorrow's task.

xoxo Fifi

Trespassing on someone else's site

Welcome to 2011 my friends: where the eating doesn't stop, but sometimes pauses for a much needed detox - sorry for the absence!

Well, everyone seems to be writing their list of goals for the year ahead - it makes me excited for what 2011 will bring. And while looking forward, I also love to look back, to think 'where was I 365 days ago?' Well that one's easy - half way across the world, in the other hemisphere!

A few of my goals for 2011 do involve my blog, or rather writing. I want to write MORE - more often, in more places, and perhaps even in print.

Well, the year started off right in relation to this goal, and I've had a couple of articles published over at Trespass Magazine - you really should go and check them out; I think of Trespass as the thinking person's magazine, rather than the crap (read: secret guilty pleasure) over at The Superficial. No link, if you're really interested, look it up.

Back to Trespass. Living in Berlin, I thought I would use the city as inspiration and write on something so typical to the place: Currywurst. Little did I imagine that in doing so, I would attract the attention of the Currywurst Fan Club, with some more hot tips on where I should be eating my wurst. Amazing.

The beast that is Currywurst mit Pommes

In any case, why don't you head on over to Trespass, check out my review, maybe leave a comment if you're in to that kind of thing, and maybe even press the like button, if your right finger is up to the task?

Now, I did mention 'a few' of my goals involve my blog. Well, the second goal I'd like to make public is that at some stage this year I WILL go to a Michelin star restaurant. There are at least five one-star rated restaurants in Berlin and I would love to check at least one of them out. And of course share the experience with you all (via the blog, I certainly can't afford to take you all with me).

So, my gourmand friends, I leave you with a question today (trying something new!) - is there a German food you would like me to write about? Something you've heard rumours of? Or simply want to know if Germans really do eat sausage and drink beer all day long? Post a comment and let me know!

Viele liebe Grüße,

Fifi von Strudel xo

Last Turkey-related post, I swear!

Schönes Guten Tag meine Lieblinge!

Und so, jetzt bin ich in Deutschland. Na, bin ich hier seit 6 (fast 7) wochen schon aber schreibe ich nur jetzt. Es tut mir leid meine Schätze!

Are you all thoroughly impressed with my mad German skills? You should be – I've been learning since I was 14 years old (albeit in varying degrees of sincerity) including most recently a (very expensive) stint at the Goethe Institut in Melbourne.

Guten Tag, readers!

For those not quite up to scratch with their German/haven't quite worked out Google translate yet, Mr von S and I have been in Germany – and more specifically, Berlin – for close to 7 weeks now.

Since we gratefully put our backpacks into storage, we've been revelling in all the food, glorious food that Berlin has to offer. Great fresh-food markets, speciality restaurants from places like Vietnam, Nepal, India, Italy, Japan, Korea, Greece, Turkey – the list goes on. We are certainly in a multicultural food-haven here in the little capital of Germany.

From food from other countries, to German food itself. For the country that spends a lot of time covered in snow, if there's just one thing they have to nail, it's comfort food. And now that I have my elastic-waisted cookie pants on (word to mah Scrubs fans!), comforted I certainly have been (I've farewelled anything figure-hugging until the snow thaws and I can exercise again).

But today's post isn't about the 1500 different varieties of sausage available in Germany, nor the gorgeous (and totally my type of) tradition of Kaffee und Kuchen. Today, it's about the Turkischemarkt.

**disclaimer – I am now thoroughly over talking about Turkish food, as much as I am sure you are over reading about it. I promise, this will be my last post on Turkish food. For a little while, at least! **

I know, I know, we're all Turkish-fooded out. But, after my last post on my love/hate relationship with Turkish food – which these days is nothing but love, I got a hankering. So, Mr von S and I donned our jackets, gloves, scarves, ear-warmers and two layers of everything, and headed to the neighbouring suburb of Neukoelln. Maybachufer plays host to a bi-weekly Turkish market on Tuesdays and Fridays – the nearest U-bahn station is Schoenleinstrasse. Sellers peddle their wares – from bargain-priced fresh fruit and vegetables (this week's special was two pineapples for EU1) to buttons, bolts of fabric and zippers. There are a number of vendors selling a variety of home-made dips, olives, cheeses, cured meats, childrens' clothing, fresh fish and poultry, not to mention the number of stalls selling ready-to-eat foods such as my favourite – goetzleme, falafels, broccoli patties, dried fruit and nuts, baklava, Turkish delight, und so weiter.

Despite it being -10 degrees, and snowing heavily, sellers and customers bravely made their way up and down the side-walks of Maybuchufer which are twice a week turned into market stalls.

With their canvas canopies strung together across the walk-way, stall holders created a covered corridor for their shoppers. The juxtaposition of tropical fruits and mounds of snow was quite bizarre, but was a nice awaking for our frozen olfactory senses. Walking past, I picked up a Clementine segment, bypassing the slices of not-yet ripe persimmons and juicy, slippery plums.

Past another clothing stall (I'm not really looking for a belly-dancing costume right now, nor knock-off LV, but I'll keep it in mind) we stopped at one of the stands selling various types of Turkish bread and bought three giant Milchbrots – a German word for Turkish pide. We happily continued down the corridor in search of an accompaniment for our most recent purchases. We stopped-by a couple of caravan-type stalls selling mezze: baby octopus, feta in brine, five different types of olives, smoked salmon and dips, dips dips! We chose Tarama (fish roe) Aubergine paste (said in a German accent) and hummus (universal). The delightful vendor sneaked in an extra 50 grams of spinach and walnut dip for us to try – while last week it was the offer of a couple of sun dried tomatoes.

Next stop on our list was the goetzleme stand – our final destination for the day. Standing in line (the place is popular) we ordered a cheese goetzleme and a spinach and cheese for me. These doughy, filled pancakes positively drip with oil, but managed to warm my hands even through my thick mittens. There is nothing quite so comforting as a nice warm goetzleme for our cold little bodies, and with pancake in hand, we made our way back to the U-bahn station, passing other people with similar postures: one gloved hand manoeuvring goetzleme, the other hand dragging a canvas bag stuffed full of Turkischemarkt goodies.

Despite the pained look on my face & the lack of make-up, I am REALLY enjoying my goetzleme.

Part two of 'Turkey: so epic there are two parts'

Haven't read Part one?

After one day of the pretzel-and-lemonade diet, I was determined not to miss out on all the glorious food that Istanbul had to offer. So on day four, I put my game face on and promptly marched to one of the numerous establishments selling every type of baklava and sweet pastry imaginable.

Heaven, I was in Turkish sweet heaven. Filo pastry, soaked in sweet syrup, flaky, crunchy, layer upon syrup-soaked layer, pistachio, walnut, almond, orange, rose-water. The flavours together are so fragrant and so pleasing to so many senses. The crunch of each bite – hear it and feel it; the smell and taste of citrus-infused syrup; the sight of bright green pistachio. We were also fortunate enough to have the shop owner offer us some floss-halva as we were polished off our baklava and washed it all down with some deliciously-sweet Turkish green tea. Perfect!

So, as with most illnesses we recovered. Thank the LORD for that! We got down to the biznass of eating pretty darn quickly. To make up for being sick on his birthday, Mr von S and I decided to follow some advice from the Lonely Liar (a.k.a. Planet) and head to a restaurant over the bridge from where we were staying in Sultanamet. Well, this was one time when the Liar wasn't!

Sofyali9 in Tunel was a great suggestion. We had a variety of mezze – small shared dishes – and more Turkish bread than even I could eat - and I freakin' love bread. We tried the hummus (finally, a win!) haydari (tzatziki without cucumber) a paprika/feta dish and giant white beans. All delicious and surprisingly affordable. We also snuck in a mini cheese borek (more flaky pastry!) because we could.

So, I mentioned Turkish breakfast before. Breakfast, just by-the-by, is one of my favourite meals – the other being dessert. As I like to say, the first and last meals of every day. I'm always pretty excited when breakfast is included in the cost of accommodation. Well after three weeks of eating the same thing over and over again, I was OVER it #firstworldproblems much? Try this for monotony: bread roll (although plus point for being freshly-baked every day) a boiled egg, cucumber, tomato, cheese and olives. Sometimes there would be honey, sometimes there was a weird, overly-processed reddish circular meat (surprisingly tasty – hey, I'll try anything once, don't judge). All in all, I don't really like to eat vegetables for breakfast unless there is bacon involved.

Since I've spoken about breakfast, how about I talk about lunch now? And since we're talking about lunch, we should probably also talk dinner, considering there is no difference in the offering (well, at least in Turkey!) After considering entrees (um, lentil soup or hummus? Both are good in my books!) it's time to think about mains.

Do I want:

a) - a chicken (tavuk) doner kebap (don't stress people, it's a kebab, just spelled differently!)

b) - a beef (adana) doner kebap

c) - a) or b) but in flat bread a.k.a. doner durum

d) kofte – which is actually b) but rolled into balls or fingers

e) shish kebap - not actually a kebab, but the same meat as b) or d) only on a plate

f) a pide (Turkey's answer to pizza apparently) usually contains the same meat as e)

Repeat these choices twice a day for 18 days (that's 36 times!), and do ya see why I would prefer the potato and potato and bread and potato choices available in Germany?

Of course, the silver lining to this thunder storm was the bread. Bread, oh delightful Turkish baked-every-day-twice-a-day bread. Bread that can be bought when stuck in traffic on the highway, when waiting in line to see the Blue Mosque; bread that is served at breakfast, lunch and dinner. Enough said.

Before I wrap up this absolute epic of a post, I must make one more mention of a couple of sweeties (whenever I say that word, in my head it comes out in a creepy old lady voice 'would you like a sweetie deary?' Mum, do you have any insight on that one?) I experienced while in Turkey.

Firstly, you didn't think I could do a post on Turkey without mentioning Turkish delight, right? Of course, the stuff is available en masse in Istanbul (although not really anywhere else...hmm, tourist trap anyone?) and we chose to procure our sample from the Spice Market. We chose, well, actually, the guy who (swindled us out of our money) sold us the 'delight chose a selection of the stuff sweetened with honey, rather than sugar. It was a much more subtle taste, and the majority of our selection was opaque in colour, pinks, whites, greens, all riddled with pistachios and a majority covered in coconut. Nary a one covered in chocolate like the Turkish Delight bars at home. The first 20 were delish, after that, I never wanted to see another Turkish delight again.

Revani - pic from stu_spivack

The other sweet was a delightful semolina-based cake/slice called revani. Sadly, I was only able to sample revani once, despite my best efforts. I've mentioned texture before in this blog, and revani is a great example of how texture can really enhance a food-related experience for me. Rather than being light and fluffy like a flour-based cake, revani is dense and reminds me more of a gluten-free cake. Add to this that revani is soaked in syrup (thank you Turkey for soaking your sweets in syrup!) and it's sensory overload – the texture, taste and smell of the oft-citrus infused syrup (as mine was) it was almost like my kind of food heroin. Probably a good thing I only found it once. Bad news, there are recipes on the interwebz.

The funny thing is, despite being completely over Turkish food by the time we left, once we arrived in Berlin, I was craving kebabs and hummus like a fiend.

Having given myself this trip down food-memory lane, I see now that I really had taken Turkish food for granted. I love the fact that now, even while in Berlin, I have access to a fantastic Turkish fresh-food market, where I can buy hummus and fresh flat bread, goezleme (which I didn't actually eat in Turkey, crazy!) and baklava every week. It's the fact that it's not every day that I can eat hummus and haydari that really makes me appreciate it, and proves not one, but two of those old clichéd sayings (sorry to get all preachy in yo' faces, but!)

everything in moderation

and

variety is the spice of life.

Xx Fif signing out.

Turkey - so epic there are two parts!

Turkey, Turkey, oh where do I begin? I know I've missed that special window in which I can pun about Turkey the bird eaten at Thanksgiving a mere two weeks ago and the country that borders Asia and Europe, but I'll see if I can't squeeze a couple in for you all (after-note, nup, couldn't find a suitable opening).

So, Turkey. I almost feel overwhelmed by the culinary memories that sing out from my mind when I think of the place. We spent a good two, nearly three weeks exploring the amazing natural beauty of this unique country, however when the time came to catch our no-name airline-carrier flight to Berlin, I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

You see, I think I built up the food in Turkey in my mind way too much, and in doing so, managed to ruin the experience for myself. Those nights I went to sleep in Bulgaria (did you notice Bulgaria is yet to be mentioned yet? Yeh, there's a reason) dreaming of amazing middle-eastern food such as I had experienced at Maha in Melbourne's CBD and Kanzaman on Bridge Rd in Richmond (both definitely worth checking out!) and even the little Turkish guy in the Foundry on Little Collins Street who does pide, two dips and salad for AU7.00. Um, where was I? That's right, lost in dreams of Turkish food yet again.

Even after being in Turkey, it's not the authentic stuff I dream about, it's the Anglicised versions, the stuff that has made its way into pop-culinary culture. I feel like I need to say three 'hail-Dorie-Greenspan's in penance for such blasphemy, but it's true.

After pondering a bit more, discussing it with Mr von S and making a list of my Turkish food experiences, I feel that perhaps I had begun taking Turkish food for granted. Because really, the food was great, don't get me wrong. It was just the monotony of eating the same thing for nearly three weeks straight. After all, we don't go out for Turkish food every single meal, every single day, for 18 days straight, now do we? Variety is the spice of life, or something.

So let's survey my list of food-related memories, shall we?

I have to say, things didn't start off too well on the food front in Turkey. It all began in Bulgaria with some dodgy KFC (we think). Mr von S was hit with a terrible case of food poisoning the day before his birthday, a day which we would be celebrating on an 14 hour bus from Sofia to Istanbul – hooray! So there we arrived in stunning Istanbul with Mr von S looking even paler than usual (sorry darling) and having eaten nothing but some pretzel sticks and lemonade for 24 hours.

I was chomping at the bit to get some of the much-lusted over Turkish food in mah belly, so dragged the sick one to a restaurant on the tourist strip for our first taste of Turkey.

I wanted hummus. We had DREAMED of hummus all through-out Europe, because apparently, not much of western Europe has even heard of the stuff. Sadly, my little heart fell when our order of hummus and flat bread came and the hummus tasted like sand. Having grown up on the beaches of Australia, I am quite to authority on what sand tastes like. This definitely tasted like sand.

Day two in Istanbul and I knew the food could only get better – we would venture out of the tourist district and get some of the real, home-made Turkish food I had dreamt of. Only, while sitting at breakfast (and I must talk about breakfast in Turkey) I felt the urge to pull out my surf-board as I rode waves of nausea.

The worst thing that can ever happen to someone who loves food as much as I, is to lose one's appetite. And then have appetite be replaced with nausea. Well folks, it happened. A very sad couple of days ensued...

Will Fifi and Mr von S recover? Will they be able to taste Turkish food without throwing up? The saga continues soon.

Hungry?

Hungary – or rather Budapest – is quite a surprising city. For those who've not been, the city is actually divided down the middle by the blue Danube, creating effectively two cities: Buda and Pest. While in Hungary, there was only one thing that I knew I had to try – goulash.

For me, goulash conjures up memories of Mother's Day back in Melbourne, and specifically to a restaurant in Mornington unpleasantly named “The Garlic Kiss”. At the Garlic Kiss (TGK) for a number of years, my brother, mother and I have tucked in to one of TGK's most-loved dishes: spaetzle and goulash. Combined with red wine, my little family unit have spent mothers day silently supping and thoroughly enjoying this hearty, warming dish.

So upon arrival, I knew that if Hungary's goulash was anything like the Kisses, I would be eating goulash for days.

Having been quite restricted in Western Europe in a budgetary sense, Eastern Europe breathed life back into our funds. Food, accommodation – things are CHEAP; so while walking around the Castle Hill area of Buda, when we stumbled across a gorgeous, cosy restaurant in which to defrost our bones and stomachs, which had been frozen by the European autumn (not even winter!) we said “yes'm”.

Seated on a banquette and surrounded by rich Hungarians, French tourists and other well-to-do foreigners, we started by ordering drinks (a Hungarian red at EU8.00) and then we got down to business. For entree, I ordered goulash soup (the only goulash entree on the menu) and for main a macadamia-encrusted breast of chicken with short noodles, vegetables and a red wine jus. Mr Von S has the most buttery pumpkin soup I've ever tasted, and a goulash main.

My goulash soup entree was served in a very novel way – in a pail with its own soup ladle, meaning I ended up with two and a bit bowls of the stuff. Not at all what I was expecting, the broth-based dish had swirls of oil and lashings of paprika floating above tender pieces of pork, vegetables and short pasta. Certainly not the hearty goulash of The Kiss, but an experience into 'real' Hungarian goulash soup. Mr Von S's goulash was incredibly similar to my entree, hold the soup. Once again, tender pork, vegetables and spaetzle, with a rich gravy.

So after a rather underwhelming goulash experience, I wasn't too sure that Budapest had anything else that could really pique my interest.

Not being the savoury-fiend that Mr Von Strudel is, he lapped up the opportunity to sink his teeth into more Hungarian salami than you could poke a tooth-pick at. However, while at a market hall waiting for Mr Von S to get his meat fix, we decided to wander upstairs to the food court to sample a dish a tour guide had told us of.

Susie (her English name) had said that this particular dish was what Hungarians ate after a big night out – a Hungarian cheeky cheeseburger if you will. On this particular day my feet had gone completely numb: it was pouring with rain, and we were feeling a bit glum (yes, we chose the wrong time of year to explore north-eastern Europe). But of course, we all know what makes Fifi Von Strudel happy. It was time to taste Langos.

Simply put, langos is a deep-fried flat bread, usually served with cheese, meat or sour cream. It can also be served sweet, with powdered sugar or jam. I chose cheese and ham. I am so glad I did. Each langos is made while you wait, meaning there may be a delay in getting the langos to ones' stomach, in fear of oil-burnt mouth-roofs, but believe me, the wait is well worth it. Eating langos made me think of eating hot jam donuts from the Queen Vic Market in Melbourne or from the Sunday Camberwell Market. The greasiness, the warmth, the doughiness. Salivating. While. Writing.

So friends, when in Hungary, one need not be (hungry...get it?) – wrap your chops around a langos or two (just 70 euro cents for cheese) and try some Hungarian wine, which was also surprisingly good!