Tag Archives: dream

Best Burger in the West

 

best-burger-west-station
The Best in the West

There is burger joint on the steps that lead down from Nyugati Square, Skala side, to the underpass. You are by all accounts required to ignore the temptation of a homogenised Subway (brand placement nonetheless) and move one flight farther down to the Best Burger. It’s a Gyors Étterem, not to be mistaken for Győr or Gyros as once I did! Let’s be honest. I may again depending on my mental state.

Well to cut a short story long in my earlier days here in Budapest this landing, if this is what one would call it, was home, and still is, to a small bar. In the winter you sat inside and suffocated in the fumes of blazing cigarettes. The only way to counter it was to add your own to the equation, and certainly when strapped for cash a cheap beer and a dirty rollie coupled with the ci-mog, while rarely fulfilling the former at least allowed for higher levels of nicotine to pass into your body. Nowadays with the smoking ban all that fun’s gone but it does lend to a smell of freshness rarely before encountered. This holds especially true when considering to venture a lunchtime beer where before one would have come away smelling like an ashtray.

Concerning burgers, that’s next door and while being introduced earlier in this piece, chronologically it was a later addition to the steps, and most welcome. Sitting with a beer and a ravenous ensuing, one was now offered choice, real choice. A retro burger from the Best Burger at Nyugati does not taste like one in Beijing, Tokyo, Vladivostok or even Cork (where’s that?)! It’s home grown, Magyar Termék maybe, at least in concept and composition and it’s a taste sensation. To put it mildly it’s delicious and not just for those post beer experiences, or other munchie inducing activities. You see, if like me, you get the notion to have a burger, perhaps influenced by a billboard, but not yet ready to compromise your dignity to yellow arches and royalty ( inebriation and geographical disadvantage excepted), then this is the place to be.

It shares its terrace with the bar next door so if the mood prevails one can have the best of both worlds. Shoppers weary of the load they are lugging may find time for respite from the chore, the drudgery, of being dragged around to look at every handbag, gladrag and high-heel. Those whom the heat has oppressed may fall to countering it in a two tier motion, lending hand to energy inducing feeding while at the same time thirst quenching. And if you find yourself inclined to vegetarianism and teetotalling there is still room for a veggie burger and soft drinks. This place, but dare I say places, lends to the all-inclusive, not the exclusive. Give it a try. Don’t be shy

https://www.facebook.com/westbestburger

https://foursquare.com/v/best-burger/4e275e0d62e17c33019388ea

For further thoughts on this:

http://thehairyteacher.com/?p=482

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What about the burger?

 

Bem Rakpart

Bank side
Let your mind go

 

A finely scented pipe, by that I mean tobacco, ornate in its design

The drift of smoke, the owner’s look, all the ingredients for conspiracy/ intrigue.

With a sun set reflecting off the windows on the far-side the sunlight, in rebounds, trickles across to where I am, but then suddenly, perhaps a moment, a cloud or a passing minute, it’s gone.

I’m left instead in the veil of a bright bank walk evening, the benches are filling up.

The joggers are sweating, while the cyclists glide arrogantly by.

On the river a tour boat moves southwards, the snap happy tourists confined; perhaps not, perhaps they’re just weary,

And at Batthyany they’ll be ready to dock.

The cars down below, they stop and they flow,

now and then I gain a new neighbour

But high perched on this wall maybe they can’t see me at all,

Or maybe they just never notice.

Again I look up for ideas, inspiration is fading it seems

The treelined ‘rakpart’ calls me onwards…

and downwards to the city beneath.

Ah yes…the pubs where i would have frequented

the cellars, the smoke and the beers…

A tourist boat, another now passing distracts me,

A new life it seems.

I hear the squeak of an unoiled bicycle, the rubber on tarmac below,

a bird I heard earlier is silenced as the traffic’s beginning to grow.

The light while still present, soon fading,

a breeze at my back urges me on,

the river and sky now nearly one hue…

Ok, it is time and I’m gone!

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