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Hungary lies around the Danube and the Carpathian Basin. Music, crafts and bathing traditions meet paprika, soups, breads, pastries and wines from several local regions.

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10/05/2026 11:39

International

Budapest, My Hungarian Goulash

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In LaBouffe, I often return to recipes with character that do not require me to play a part, and that is exactly why I cherish Hungarian goulash. I am a woman who takes the time to get to know people before opening up, and I cook with the same gentle reserve: I prefer dishes that simmer, that speak plainly, that warm without overwhelming. I associate this goulash with Budapest, with the light on the Danube and with that very simple feeling I get when the air turns cold near the baths: I want something honest, deep and nourishing, but never heavy. After a day in which I give a great deal in my work as a nursing assistant, I look for that same balance on the plate, between comfort and poise. I make my Hungarian goulash with 600 g of beef chuck cut into large cubes, 2 sliced onions, 2 cloves of garlic, 2 carrots, 2 potatoes, 1 green pepper, 1 ripe tomato, 1 tablespoon of sweet Hungarian paprika, 1 teaspoon of caraway seeds, 1 bay leaf, salt, pepper, a little lard or oil, and about 1.2 litres of stock. I first gently soften the onions in the fat, then remove the pot from the heat before adding the paprika, because I want to preserve its colour and roundness. I immediately add the beef, garlic, caraway, tomato and pepper, then cover with the stock and let it simmer for a long time—at least 1 hour and 30 minutes—until the beef is tender. I then add the carrots and potatoes and let everything finish cooking for another thirty minutes or so, just long enough for the broth to develop a lovely depth. If I feel like being truly faithful to tradition, I also make a few csipetke, those small pinched noodles made with flour, an egg and a pinch of salt, which I drop into the pot a few minutes before serving. In this dish, I find everything I love about eating simply: a true identity, a clear warmth, and cooking that tells the story of a country without putting on airs. I gladly serve it as it is, with a little bread, and let it remind me that Hungarian cuisine can be generous without being showy. This is the image I keep of Budapest: a dish of patience, paprika and silence, moving forward as I do—with restraint, but with sincerity.

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