Hortobagy is the place to try many mainstream Hungarian dishes, like sekely gulyas, a Transylvanian pot of pork, sour cream, sweetened sauerkraut, and caraway. It is named for the puszta, or great plain of Hungary, a dry, dusty, expanse where nomads, cowboys, and wayward violinists have been grilling meats over crude fires for countless centuries. Hortobagy has been around for several years it should be around for several more. Then you might have room for real Dobos torta and for a glass of tokaji aszu, the famed Hungarian dessert wine. By the time you finish the sausages, not to mention a subtle cucumber salad topped with sour cream and served almost as an afterthought, you should be ready to do what we did-bring the main dishes (stuffed cabbage, and beef tokany in a rich sauce of red wine and paprika) on a picnic the following morning. Then the Debreceni kolbasz are served, three giant, home-smoked, piquant sausages, with the scent of fresh, sweet paprika that is so irresistible. You rub it with the clove of garlic that comes on the plate and- voila -you have a peasant’s paradise. Langos looks and tastes the way you always dreamed a homemade doughnut would-soft, yielding, yeasty and chewy. Then langos, a Hungarian fried peasant bread dripping peppery oil, is brought. If you’re like me, though, you won’t make it past the appetizers.Įveryone begins with a little crock of homemade Liptauer cheese, a classic spread of farmer’s cheese, paprika, and caraway seeds, regardless of whether or not they order the Hungarian dishes. Monique’s has a special for two called the Hungarian potpourri at just under $25 and for first-time visitors it is the logical choice. Fekete prepares French and Continental specialties nightly, but his heart is in the Hungarian dishes, which are prepared from recipes he learned as a child.

The chef’s name is Sandor Fekete, and before he walked across the Austrian border in 1956 he was in his native Hungary. Monique Theraube is a stunning blonde from Barcelona, and when she greets you at the door you may think you’ve come to the wrong place. Monique doesn’t sound like a Hungarian name, and that’s because it isn’t. Wash everything down with a bottle of Badacsonyi Surkebarat, a medium-dry white wine that rivals the best Germans at half the price, or the better-known Egri Bikaver, also known as bulls’ blood, a robust red with a fine, flowery bouquet. Those who don’t can revel in the simple charm of the place. Saturday is also one of the days O’Buda has entertainment, a Hungarian pianist and engaging raconteur-for those who understand Hungarian. Two of the best are the Sunday special het vezer tokany, chunks of veal and pork in a delicate cream sauce, and rakott krumpli, a perversely rich casserole of scalloped potatoes with kolbasz sausage, eggs, and sour cream, served Saturdays. The restaurant has many interesting main dishes, and there are different specials daily. He also insisted we try the cold fruit soup, a sour cherry cream soup that is more of a dessert than an appetizer. Tibor started us with hortobagyi palacsinta, a meat-filled crepe blanketed by a naturally thickened meat stock you are not likely to find a better Hungarian dish anywhere in Los Angeles. He’s an excellent waiter, despite the language barrier. There’s nothing sinister about his smile, though. Tibor wanders the room with an errant grace reminiscent of a young Bela Lugosi, and when he descends on your table with his long black tuxedo you know he means business. Service is provided by Ivots’ boyfriend, Tibor, a Hungarian who is distinctly not bilingual. The kitchen at O’Buda is authentic and lively, thanks to the young chef Ivots recently brought over from Hungary. Judith Ivots, who is bilingual, opened the restaurant with her mother a little over a year ago, and she’s filled the dining room with an air of cheerful simplicity. O’Buda is charming, despite an unassuming store front in a pod mall. You’ll find a lot more than just goulash ( gulyas ), but if you require a place where wine flows like the Danube and violinists play through the night, bring your own sommelier and string quartet along.

There is variety here and regal peasant charm, but don’t expect the grandes salles of Budapest society.

Het magyar vezer