These mom-and-pop greasy spoons have been essential to Budapest dining for almost a century, but they're on the brink of extinction. Go visit them before it’s too late.
Of Budapest’s myriad dining and drinking establishments, it’s unsurprisingly the fashionable places that get most attention. Specialty coffee shops that brew expert filter coffees, glossy international restaurants with mid-century furnishings, and craft beer bars hawking hop-forward IPAs. I also enjoy these trendier places, but often prefer their opposite: small, humble, unpretentious eateries where few tourists go. Welcome to an étkezde.
Grandma’s Recipes
Étkezdes are mom-and-pop neighborhood restaurants in Hungary serving wallet-friendly traditional dishes from a short, daily-changing menu. The interior of an étkezde is usually plain and free of decorations, save for the obligatory faded photos of celebrities who’ve visited over the decades. Customers sit elbow-to-elbow and strangers are expected to share tables. Compared with a regular restaurant, an étkezde is smaller, cheaper, and closed on weekends. Only a few classic étkezdes remain today within central Budapest, down from what used to be dozens in the early aughts.
An étkezde is similar to an osteria in Italy, although étkezdes don’t serve alcohol. The étkezde crowd is usually male-heavy, comprising blue collar workers, low-level bureaucrats, and elderly citizens. Many are on a first-name basis with the ever-present proprietor, who often doubles as the server. A common étkezde scene: playful banter between customers and the owner at the expense of one another’s masculinity, cognitive skills, or favored soccer team.
The étkezdes that survived to the present day did so for good reason. Part of their enduring appeal is the homemade Hungarian food – chicken paprikash, schnitzel, stuffed cabbage. Essential étkezde staple is also the főzelék, creamy stews made from seasonal vegetables, usually peas, squash, spinach, savoy cabbage, lentils, or potatoes, and topped with meatloaf, sausage, or a hard-boiled egg.
Lecsó, packing ripe bell peppers, tomatoes, and crisped-up sausages, is another standout. People usually round out their meals with a noodle dish, which could be túrós csusza, noodles blanketed in sour cream, túró, and crispy pork cracklings, or mákos tészta, noodles coated in ground poppy seeds and powdered sugar.
Although the menu changes daily, there are some unspoken, hard-wired routines that all regulars know. Fridays, for example, are “offal days” at Kívánság, a charming longtime étkezde in District 7 (update: Kívánság served its last meal in January, 2025). Kádár Étkezde, which sadly closed its doors during the pandemic, used to serve cholent (sólet), the classic sabbath dish, every Saturday (it was an exception in being open on Saturday).
Since affordability is key to an étkezde, most of these dishes use basic ingredients that are readily available in Hungary. To keep prices low, owners often embrace creative workarounds. “Hamis gulyás,” which translates to “phony goulash,” denotes a meatless goulash soup, prepared only with vegetables and egg dumplings.
Dishes originally made with beef can be swapped out for cheaper meats such as chicken or pork. A two-course meal will rarely exceed €8, and small-portions are usually available at a reduced prices for those with a small appetite or low budget. Étkezdes need to turn tables quickly to survive, which is why no wines and beers are served and lingering, though not discouraged, isn’t common.
The Dreadful Communist Era
During the Communist period in Hungary (1947-1989), a dark age for gastronomy, étkezdes were among the businesses that were permitted to operate as private enterprises. Unfortunately, this rarely meant an improvement in quality: with few exceptions, étkezés, like regular restaurants, served forlorn-looking dishes made from questionable ingredients and using heavy sauces to mask flavors. The cast of enervated and unfriendly waiters was insult to injury.
Accordingly, when Communism ended and the market opened up for other types of restaurants that were viewed as exotic – Chinese takeouts, but also McDonald’s and Burger King – many étkezdes quickly folded, usually for good reason.
Vanishing Étkezde Culture
If the current trend continues, étkezdes will soon disappear from Budapest. Despite the fact that many étkezde owners are now past retirement age, the next generation doesn't seem to jump on the opportunity to take over. Étkezdes run on thin margins and it's difficult to turn profitable when the owners hire outside help. In all of Budapest, I know of one étkezde, Róma Ételbár, that was taken over by a young crew when the charismatic owner lady, Cica, announced closure.
“By 4:30 in the morning, I’m in the kitchen. What do you think makes my bone broth soup so flavorful?” asks Erzsébet Oláh, who, along with her husband Feri, run the popular Öcsi Étkezde in outer District 8. After fifty years spent working in restaurants, Feri says they’ve had enough and decided to put up the business for sale earlier this year. Interest so far has been muted. “No one wants to work hard these days. An office job is so much more comfortable” he says. If you decide to visit Öcsi, be sure to arrive by 12:30 p.m., before they run out of things.
With its weathered interior, cast of aging regulars, and long-standing staff, Kívánság shows off best what the étkezde genre is about. Owner Tibor Szabados still serves food at his own restaurant while also being in charge of the day-to-day operations. He’s currently 79 and in frail health. Go visit before it’s too late. Craft burgers can wait.
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