“Bloody cheap and terrible quality,” declares
my straight-talking guide, Andrea Wurmb, as
she arrives at our meeting point, a wine kiosk
in the Blaha Lujza Square metro station. I’m
no oenophile, but given that the wine at this
kiosk is dispensed from a pair of plastic vats
into recycled soft-drinks bottles, I suspect
Andrea’s not just being a wine snob. She leads
me away towards the exit, past a range of stalls
selling everything from toasters to bunches of
flowers. “Lots of locals come here to buy things
because the prices are far lower than on the
high street — but only alcoholics would buy
that wine,” she says, bluntly. “I’ll find you a
proper wine shop.”
We climb the steps back to street level,
emerging like moles into the cold sunlight
of late December, before strolling south
along the Grand Boulevard that arcs around
the centre of Budapest. I’ve asked Andrea
to show me the ‘real’ city, the markets and
stores where locals come to do their daily
shop, rather than the high-end boutiques and
souvenir outlets that most tourists encounter
in Hungary’s capital. And Andrea’s taking her
mission seriously. She strides purposefully
along the pavement while I hurry to keep up.
“Walking is the only way to see a city,” she
calls over her shoulder, as I’m whisked past
doors with lion-head knockers, and arched
entrances that offer tantalising, split-second
glimpses of ivy-clad courtyards.
“Ah, here we are,” Andrea says with
satisfaction a few minutes later as we reach a
shop called Borháló, where the shelves are full
of bottles. Hungarians are proud of their wine
— it’s said that you can divide the population
between those who make it and those who
dream of doing so. And at Borháló, the manager
has the look of a man who would faint at the
notion of dispensing wine into recycled soft-
drinks bottles. “Welcome,” he smiles. “We only
sell Hungarian wines, along with a few from
Hungarian producers in Serbia and Romania.”
The choice of bottles from the 22 wine regions
goes far beyond the heavy bull’s blood red and
sweet Tokaji dessert wines that people tend
to associate with the country. I’m shown light
whites from Badacsony in the west, full-bodied
reds from Villány in the south, and wines made
from indigenous grape varieties with tongue-
twisting names such as Cserszegi Fűszeres,
Hárslevelű and Királyleányka.
I choose a bottle at random, and the
manager compliments me on my choice,
before pressing upon me a shot of something
stronger from a clear bottle labelled ‘Pult
Alatti’. “It means ‘under the counter’,” he
chuckles, handing me a tulip-shaped glass.
“We make it ourselves.” This is pálinka, a
fruit brandy imbibed at weddings, after meals
and even — by hardy sorts in the countryside
— at the breakfast table. The spirit is most
commonly distilled from apricots, pears or
plums, but Hungarians say that whatever’s
good for jam is good for pálinka. Many believe
it has medicinal qualities, too, and, after
raising my glass to the manager and knocking
back the contents, I see it could certainly cure
a headache — by blowing your head off.
The Pearl of the Danube is known for its bathhouses, cafe culture and, of course,
the mighty river that bisects it. But stray beyond the headline attractions and
the beating heart of the Hungarian capital is to be found in its local markets
WORDS: ADRIAN PHILLIPS. PHOTOGRAPHS: KAROLINA WIERCIGROCH
BUDAPEST
CITY LIFE
124 NATIONALGEOGRAPHIC.CO.UK/TRAVEL
