Shoot the Piano Player, and Other Constructive Dining Tips

As with politics, talk about restaurants in Hungary tends to be a rather binary affair. People tend to love things, or to hate them like the bird flu. While this "It rules!/It stinks!" approach can be fun, and in many cases is appropriate - some local eateries do rule, and many more stink beyond redemption - it doesn't do much to help the great swath of Budapest restaurants that are in the middle. So below are some helpful suggestions to two dozen or so BP dining spots that don't stink, and with a little extra effort and imagination might rule like sainted kings.

Alabárdos: Actually, there is lots of room for improvement here, as with virtually every restaurant catering to tourists trapped in the Buda Castle. But the first thing I would change at this charmingly stiff and formal place is the music: the last time I went they had on a Muzak-like CD of classical guitar arrangements of easily recognizable pop songs including - I'm not joking - "Hotel California." Nem elegáns.

Al-Amir: Great Syrian food, in newly spiffed-up surroundings. But like all boozers, I'm at my wit's end trying to figure out if it's really true that there are two identical twins who run the place, and one doesn't mind if you BYOB. If it is really true, make the hard-line brother carry worry beads, or otherwise make the whole fiddle more transparent.

Arigato: This welcoming little Japanese restaurant in District VI has the habit of welcoming diners by telling them that they're all out of fish. I know that there's more to Japanese food than sushi (and even that "sushi" actually means the rice that goes with the fish, rather than the fish) but seriously, get some fish.

Chelsea Restaurant: Get someone who knows how to cook fish properly, or give your fish to Arigato. Like the room, though.

Chez Daniel: If there's something keeping me away from District VI's legendary French eatery it isn't the food. No, it's the daily menu boards, which (at least every time I've gone) consist of refrigerator-door sized slabs of steel onto which two dozen or so complicated dishes are scrawled with magic marker, and which the poor waiters are forced to drag around the restaurant and gawk at like everyone else because no one can read what the hell they say. Get a laser printer, or a team of French calligraphist monks, but get rid of those dumb menu boards - they're a menace.

Gerlóczy Kávéház: One word: fényerőszabályozó. It means dimmer, as in the thing that lets you dim the lights a bit. With a little bit of mood lighting, this charming café/bistro will be captivating, and it might improve the mood of the waiters a bit.

Govinda Indiai Vegetáriánus Étterem: The Krishna prohibition on onions and garlic is barring your door to culinary Nirvana. So either get more creative with the spices or secretly add some meat cut up into itty-bitty pieces.

Gundel: Have a heart-to-heart with the chef, and chain the band to the bandstand.

Café Gusto: Get a hot-food license, Gusti, so we don't have to eat pasta salad and carpaccio in February. And while you're at it, open a branch in Pest.

Ha Noi: You folks brought Uncle Sam to his knees back in 'Nam. You can certainly figure out how to make a bowl of Pho Bo in less than an hour and a half.

Indigo Café and Restaurant (and every other new groovy Indian restaurant): Just because you're groovy and new doesn't mean that people don't want to share dishes like at less new and groovy Indian restaurants. So ask first if people are going to share, rather than making them ask for separate plates.

Kacsa Vendéglő: Great duck and other heart-stopping vittles, but the wine list, which starts out at something just south of Ft 10,000, runs the risk of killing the goose that laid the golden egg.

Kádár Étkezde: How about serving coffee? You can always charge individually for each lump of sugar, like they were slices of bread or glasses of soda water.

Kárpátia Étterem: See Gundel, above.

Kispipa Vendéglő: Round your prices down to the nearest 100 forints, so they are a little more reasonable, and so you don't have dishes that show up on the menu costing Ft 2,381 or Ft 1,974, which looks nuts, and not necessarily in a good way.

La Fontaine: Make a lunch menu with prices as friendly as your delightful proprietor.

Manna Euthentic Lounge: Get rid of the word "Euthentic" in your name. It doesn't mean anything. Seriously: If you Google "Euthentic" you come up first, and looking nuts - and also not in a good way.

Momotaro Ramen: Teach the cooks to speak Hungarian, or the waiters to speak Chinese, so I can enjoy that salt-pepper squid dish you used to have on the menu without having to go into the kitchen and dance around like a calamari that's been rolled in seasoned rice flour and then thrust into a wok full of boiling oil. It's exhausting.

Rosenstein Vendéglő: Cut the size of the menu in half, and send the waiters to friendly school. Otherwise, don't change a thing.

Pampas Argentine Steakhouse: Don't tempt patrons with "New York Cheesecake" if it's just normal Budapest cheesecake made from túró and whatever else you make New York Cheesecake from if you don't use proper, er, Philadelphia cream cheese. Worse than being disappointing, it leads transplanted New Yorkers to tell the waiters things like Figyelj - én egy igazi New York-i haver, én tudok ami igazi New York-i sajttorta, és az isn't it, dude like I did last time, almost causing my wife to commit suicide out of humiliation. But love the steaks!

Paulaner Brauhaus: Tie a yellow ribbon 'round the neck of that guy with the Casio keyboard in the cheezy band, and buy some polka CDs instead.

Szlovák Söröző: Hire some Slovaks.

Szerb Vendéglő: Hire some Serbs.

Spoon Café & Lounge: Keelhaul the meanest waiter you have, and make the other members of the staff watch. It'll do wonders for the morale of the crew and passengers alike.

Tom-George Restaurant & Bár: If you have a restaurant that's all about seeing people and being seen, treat your frequent non-celebrity customers like they are celebrities, rather than tourist schleps who have just stumbled across the place for the first time. It doesn't take much: just greet them with a warm smile when they come in, and say it's nice to see them again. Or, if you really want to make them feel like stars, just casually drop the four magic words: "Have you lost weight?"

Zebrano: Nice sleek space, and good menu, but it would be better if you invited a well-known restaurant to take over the place and make it worth going all the way out by City Park. You might even consider getting a partner with a name that begins with an "A" or a "B," so you aren't always last on everyone's list.