When I’m abroad, I’m always looking for local families to eat at, even though most times I don’t make it. In a typical restaurant you will never taste what we really eat at home, but at this place you can eat what I usually eat at my grandma’s (its name in English: grandma’s hash house).
When I step in, I see and smell what I see and smell the house of most grannies in Hungary. Yeah, the workers there are also at the age of grandmothers, and the tastes are the same as grandma’s.
It’s not fine dining – it’s the cheap Hungarian style from the age of the deficit economy. But it has the taste of home. Sometimes on a Sunday I feel I should be eating at my granny, but I can’t make it. Those days, I go there and eat something familiar together with other granny-less people.