A One-Star Plan for Making Budapest Restaurants Less Terrible

If nothing else, I hope that over the past 18 months that I've been writing this column I have gained a reputation for not letting bribes, threats or anything else keep me from telling it like I see it. I point this out because this week I am going to write about a topic so controversial and fret with intrigue and acrimony that only the most fiercely independent journalist can cover it without folding under all the pressure. In other words, I'm going to write about restaurants.

As most long-timers in Budapest know, certain aspects of the local dining scene have changed dramatically over the past few years, while others have remained constant. Basically, restaurants have gotten much more expensive, while pretty much doing nothing whatsoever to justify the massive price hikes. The transformation is especially remarkable for anyone who ever leaves Hungary, or ever has reason to convert dollars, euros and other exotic foreign currencies into forints.

The problem seems to be especially acute in the areas around the major hotels in Pest, where, as I understand, some key concierges are lavishly bribed by restaurateurs to steer unsuspecting dupes their way. It is made worse by the apparent fact that few of the tourists who visit Budapest ever bother to do any restaurant research of their own, instead blithely turning to their hotel concierge, even though many probably know that the culinary criminal behind the concierge desk would send them to the dumper around back if the Budapest Sanitation Department paid him to. Also, most of these tourists probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

Meanwhile, many restaurants in Budapest seem to operate on an economic model quite different from that in other non-tropical countries. In France or America and other such countries restaurants tend to price their offering based on supply and demand; if the dining room is three-quarters empty, they lower their prices, to encourage more people to come and eat. But in Budapest, the reverse seems to be the case. When a restaurant here is three-quarters empty, the management often raises its prices, to try to get whatever it can off the few suckers unlucky or undiscriminating enough to wander in. (And, of course, to accumulate more money to bribe additional concierges.)

So all in all, it is a rather desperate situation, at least compared to what it could be. Which is why I think what Budapest really needs is a super-duper expensive restaurant that every concierge in town feels obliged to steer people towards.

No, I don't mean XXXXXXXXX or XXXXXXXXX or XXXXXX. [Editor-are you crazy? We're running a business here.] I wouldn't wish them on Ouagadougou. Instead, what I mean is an honest-to-goodness world-class restaurant where people are presented with monstrous, eye-watering bills, and feel happy and honored to pay them. In other words, a Michelin starred restaurant.

Some of my Anglo-Saxon readers may be wondering why I would specify a book put out by a French tire company as the ultimate guide to culinary matters. To them, all I can say is: It is, at least for the time being. Whereas most restaurants in Budapest probably wouldn't even notice if they didn't get one of those "Best of Budapest" diploma-like thingies given out every year around this time (well, unless they had already paid the invoice for it) Michelin stars are taken very seriously. If you doubt this is true, just look at what happens when they are taken away. Back in February 2003, a certain French chef named Bernard Loiseau was said to have committed suicide when his restaurant, the Côte d'Or in Saulieu, Burgundy, was rumored to be on the verge of losing just one of its three stars. (Then again, Chef Bernard was no doubt already thinking about putting his head into the La Cornue, having just been downgraded by the less-exalted but still damn important Gault Millau.) Frankly, this is exactly the kind of pressure Budapest's restaurateurs need to feel for them to stop overcharging us for second-rate grub.

I am not suggesting, of course, that the anonymous reviewers who work for Michelin drop their standards and award a star to a Budapest restaurant just so that Hungary has one, or so that other restaurants have something to aspire to. No, that would be pretty much the worst thing that could happen. Instead, what we need is a major push by the few potentially star-worthy restaurants interested in becoming the first starred restaurant in Central Europe. It would sort of be like the "X-Prize" that was offered to the first civilian group that put a man into space, in hopes that the scramble for the loot and fame would spur a larger renaissance in aeronautics.

Abdessattar in the kitchen at Páva: He made us see stars, at least sort of

So who do I think is potentially capable of getting a star? Well, that's a difficult question, but not impossible. Clearly, anyone who has eaten at Páva at the Gresham Four Seasons Hotel recently will know that Chef Zitouni Abdessattar (pictured right) is on to something. Two weeks ago, my super-secret wine tasting group met for a dinner and tasting in the restaurant private dining room, and we were fairly bowled over by the set menu we were offered. Just to whet your appetite, I'll give you the blow-by-blow: beef carpaccio with crispy bitter greens, a gorgonzola cheese emulsion and aged balsamic vinegar; saffron risotto with scampi and spicy fried tomato skin; pan-seared guinea hen with chanterelle fricassee and velour sauce; a champagne and grapefruit sorbet; roasted veal chops with salsify mousse, castelmango cheese and a crusted duet of asparagus with oregano sauce; a smashing selection of Italian cheeses, each accompanied by a special "marmalade"; and a bitter almond parfait with roasted apricot lavender caramel. This is serious stuff, though I might add that the bill was remarkably reasonable given the quality and sheer volume of what was shoveled in front of us, and the quality of the service. Pretty much my only complaint was that the English-language menu cards said the carpaccio was from "grey beef," which, while a faithful translation - it was sliced off of one of those famous szürke marha - sounds about as appetizing as saying "green beef." Otherwise, I'd give it one star. But then I am not the right fat white guy.

As for the others potential stars, the list isn't particular long. In alphabetical order, I'd say it would have to come down to Baraka, Fausto's and, after a somewhat long awkward period, Lou-Lou. (Sorry, Gundel, but you've got a long way to go.) Unfortunately, Baraka is probably a bit too informal for the folks at Michelin, and I likewise find it hard to see them giving Hungary's first star to an Italian restaurant that is so determinedly Italian. (Páva is more international, as the chef's name indicates.) But my money would actually be on Lou-Lou, which is currently doing the best job of turning out interesting haut-Hungarian cuisine. Indeed, probably the most memorable dish I had last winter was a stunning appetizer made from - I'm guessing - blood and liver wrapped in pastry dough and surrounded by an elegant emulsion of some sort sprinkled with toasted pumpkin seeds.

Either way, if the era of bargain dining in Budapest must come to a close, let's at least get some value for all that money we spend. If the top four or five restaurants in Budapest decided to shoot for a Michelin star - or two - it would invariably propel some of the others to shoot for a decent high-end meal at a decent high-end price. Which would frankly put me over the moon.