1,000 Foods To Eat Before You Die: A Food Lover's Life List (99 page)

Where:
In Budapest
, Gundel, 36/1-889-8100,
gundel.hu/en
.
Mail order:
For paprika, amazon.com (search szeged paprika).
Further information and recipes:
George Lang’s Cuisine of Hungary
by George Lang (1994);
food.com
(search halaszle);
festival.si.edu
(search hungarian recipe halaszle).
See also:
Brodetto Vastese
;
Bouillabaisse
;
Bourride
.

On a hot summer’s day, cold cherry soup for lunch.

A special treat during summer in eastern Europe and the Balkans are cold soups made tangy by hints of lemon juice, acidic fruit, or gritty sour salt. One of the most enticing of the hot-weather soups is a chilled sour cherry version, traditionally enhanced with whipped sour cream, sugar, cinnamon, and perhaps cloves. A splash of white wine and fresh (or jarred, in a pinch) cooked sour cherries contribute to its
essential winey flavor and deep blushing beauty. The soup’s success depends on the ripeness of its star ingredient—the sour cherries that are one of nature’s oldest triumphs and in season early to mid-summer.

Cherries, like other stone fruits, are thought by scholars to have originated in Asia Minor, as well as in the ancient Greek city Kerasounta. There are two main types, sweet (
Prunus avium
) and sour (
Prunus cerasus
), and it is easy to tell the difference: The sour fruits tend to be heart-shaped, slightly soft, and an orange-kissed flame-red color, while ripe sweet cherries are rounder, fleshier, and firmer, a dark burgundy-black. The tart and tangy flavor of the sour fruit carries strong appeal to eastern Europeans and Hungarians in particular, perhaps because trees bearing the sour morello variety grow there in abundance.

How sour is sour? Very sour indeed. As Waverley Root wrote in his authoritative dictionary and visual history
Food
, when it comes to sour cherries, “what the word means in this case is really
acid.
”

Where:
In Budapest
, Gundel, tel 36/1-889-8100,
gundel.hu/en
.
Mail order:
For preserved sour cherries, amazon.com (search american spoon fruit sour cherries).
Further information and recipes:
George Lang’s Cuisine of Hungary
by George Lang (1994);
The German Cookbook
by Mimi Sheraton (2014);
saveur.com
(search hungarian chilled cherry soup).

Great
—whether applied to size or quality—hardly is an adequate description of the Great Market Hall, a stupendous rose-brick building that is full to the brim with tantalizing aromas and flavors. On the Pest side of teeming Budapest, the turreted nineteenth-century Gothic complex offers a luscious, three-level nosh that in the span of only a couple of hours can give visitors a fair sampling of the length and breadth of savory Hungarian cuisine.

Opened in 1897 after a design by the local architect Samu Petz, the market’s soaring main hall is reminiscent of Paris’s original Les Halles, with its glass paneling set into high-flying steel girders. A wash of light illuminates the brilliant colors of assorted paprikas, necklacelike strings and hanging garlands of smoky dark sausages
and burnished country hams, shelves filled with the intricate, butter-crunched pastries Hungarian bakers are famous for, and snowy, rustic country cheeses, most of considerable pungency.

Strolling up and down the wide aisles on this main floor nets visitors a slew of restorative nibbles. Among them are the midnight-dark sausage called black pudding, fried sausages, a variety of filled crêpes and pancakes, and
lángos
, a descendant of Turkish pita that evolved into a crisp, deep-fried pastry moon rubbed with salt and garlic and topped with pungent sour cream and a sheep’s or goat’s milk cheese. Intermittent theme days honor various national and regional foodways, including those of Croatia, Tunisia, Hungary, and Macedonia, to name only a few.

At some stalls, you’ll encounter more substantial dishes, such as stuffed cabbage or red peppers, the beloved
gulyás
(alternatively spelled goulash), or meat prepared
lecso
-style—with a sauce of green peppers, white onions, red tomatoes, and of course paprika. As for that glowing Hungarian spice, there are at least twenty varieties brilliantly on view.

Escalate down to the lower level and you’ll find yourself in a sort of supermarket filled with fishmongers, butchers, and stands. Among the offerings here are the pickled vegetables so loved by Hungarians (reminders of the days before fresh vegetables were available in winter), along with local beers, wines such as the famed Tokaji aszú, and teas and coffees. On the uppermost level, colorful Hungarian craftsmanship shines through in carved wood pieces and the sparkling, intricate embroidery that adorns various household linens, shirts, skirts, and scarves.

Where:
In Budapest
, Vámház körut 1-3, Fövám tér, Pest end of Liberty Bridge.
Further information:
piaconline.hu
.

Heat releases paprika’s full flavor.

The New World’s contributions to the cuisines of old Europe are surprisingly numerous—consider Italy without tomatoes, Ireland without potatoes, or indeed Hungary without its paprika, the fiery-bright powder that adds its crimson glow and seductive, earthy pungency (along with plenty of vitamin C) to so many of that country’s savory cooked dishes and cured meats.

The sweet and hot red chile peppers that are the basis of paprika were introduced to Europe from Mexico via Spain and Morocco, then rapidly traveled via Turkey to Hungary.

Spanish cooks latched onto the spice in the form of
pimentón
(see
listing
); the particular pepper they use is almost heart-shaped, and is more golden in color than the rounded, vermillion
Capsicum annuum
that flourishes around
Szeged and Kalocsa in southern Hungary. The Spanish paprika is also based on peppers that are smoked, giving the powdered spice a sophisticated woodsy flavor. Air-dried Hungarian peppers produce a smoother, more densely earthy paprika that can be found in varying degrees of spiciness; the most finicky cooks have theirs blended to order.

Sweet or hot, paprika has an underlying fruity sweetness that is best displayed in Hungary’s goulash (the national dish), in its chicken paprikash, in the fiery freshwater fish soup-stew that is
halászlé
(see
listing
), and in roseate pork belly bacon dusted with paprika to spark each lusciously fatty piece.

Because paprika is extremely perishable—its color and flavor fade rapidly and it may attract tiny bugs if kept in a warm place for more than a month—it should be bought in small quantities and stored in the refrigerator in a dark glass or metal container.

Retail and mail order:
In Burbank, CA
, Otto’s, tel 818-845-0433,
hungariandeli.com
(search hungarian paprika).
Mail order:
Penzeys Spices, tel 800-741-7787,
penzeys.com
(search hungarian paprika; sharp paprika).
Further information and recipes:
George Lang’s Cuisine of Hungary
by George Lang (1994);
The Oxford Companion to Food
by Alan Davidson (1999);
saveur.com
(search chicken paprikash);
cookstr.com
(search goulash james beard).
Tip:
For the richest results, paprika should be sautéed in some kind of fat for two or three minutes until it loses its raw aroma and its flavor mellows. Only then should other ingredients be introduced.

Ubiquitous in pastry shops and coffeehouses throughout the country, the salty-sweet
pogácsa
(POH-gothcha) are to Hungary what biscotti are to Italy—no less delicious, and just about as diverse in their various incarnations.

Everything about these small, round biscuits is unprepossessing, from their looks to their mild, elusive flavor. But they are reassuring snacks, welcome when one feels peckish or unappreciated. Pleasantly flaky, with an abundance of eggs, butter or lard, and sour cream, the biscuits are delicately enhanced by salt or black pepper, sometimes grated cheese, or even bits of ham or bacon; or they might be sweetened ever so slightly and enriched by finely crushed walnuts.

Whichever end of the spectrum they grace, pogácsa go well with cheese, morning jam, wine, tea, and coffee. Although this recipe relies on baking powder to lighten their texture, yeast is often used as an alternative leavener.

Makes 1 dozen biscuits

2¾ cups all-purpose flour

1 scant teaspoon baking powder

¼ teaspoon salt

⅔ cup sugar

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 extra-large egg

1 extra-large egg yolk

⅓ cup whole-milk sour cream

2 teaspoons crushed black peppercorns (optional)

2 tablespoons grated Gruyère-type cheese (optional)

2 tablespoons finely chopped ham or crumbled cooked bacon (optional)

1.
Sift the flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar together in a medium-size bowl. Cut in the butter, rubbing with your fingertips or using a pastry blender (or a food processor) until a coarse meal forms.

2.
Blend in the egg, egg yolk, and sour cream, working until the dough is smooth. Work in 2 teaspoons crushed black peppercorns, or 2 tablespoons grated Gruyère-type cheese, or 2 tablespoons finely chopped or crumbled cooked bacon. Form the dough into a thick round and wrap it in wax paper or plastic wrap. Refrigerate the dough for 2 hours.

3.
Position a rack in the center of the oven and preheat the oven to 350°F. Lightly butter a large baking sheet.

4.
Lightly flour a work surface. Using a lightly floured rolling pin, roll out the dough to a thickness of ½ inch. Using a glass or a cookie cutter, cut the dough into 2-inch rounds. Combine and reroll scraps. Place the rounds about 1 inch apart on the prepared baking sheet and prick each 3 or 4 times with the tines of a fork.

5.
Bake the cookies until they are a very pale golden brown, about 20 minutes. Let them cool on the baking sheet. They will keep for 1 week stored in an airtight metal container in a cool place.

Where:
In Budapest
, Café Gerbeaud, tel 36/1-429-9000,
gerbeaud.hu
;
in New York
, Andre’s Café, tel 212-327-1105,
andrescafeny.com
.
Retail and mail order:
In Burbank, CA
, Otto’s, tel 818-845-0433,
hungariandeli.com
(search pogacsa).
Further information and additional recipes:
George Lang’s Cuisine of Hungary
by George Lang (1994);
saveur.com
(search pogacsa).