Street food (1)

After wandering through a suburb of peeling buildings, interspersed with proper soviet apartment blocks, also peeling, I found a market. Mostly indoors, with corridors leading to squares with displays of paprika, plums and meter-long marrows. Around a corner, looking out on an unpaved parking area, was a small kiosk selling fast food.

I asked for langos, which the man understood. Then he asked something, I indicated that he was far beyond the limits of my Hungarian. He asked again, I again waved my hands in vague circles. He asked again, looking slightly worried that he might be giving me the wrong thing, so I just nodded enthusiastically. But I think he realised I'm completely lost, because he called his wife to ask wither I want it with cheese. Sajtos tejfölös, she explained. With cheese and cream. I wrote it down, determined to subsist on this.

Take a yeasty dough, stretch it out until quite thin, almost like a pizza base. Deep-fry for a moment, then rub the warm disk with garlic, add a ladle of sour cream (tejföl, similar to smetana) and grated cheese (sajt). It's technically just fried bread, but in really amazing.