Pieces of Cake

In its WittyLeaks series, Diplomacy and Trade regularly publishes the personal accounts of ambassadors and other mission leaders accredited in the Hungarian capital on their experiences on 'excursions' into Hungarian culture, art, gastronomy, customs, scenery, etc. This time, the Irish ambassador explains how baking binds Budapest and Dublin.

Arriving on post, a new diplomat can expect to find on their desk a ‘handover note’ from his or her predecessor. A good note will explain the inner workings of the Embassy, outline the local political culture and introduce key contacts. But the best handovers go further – advising the new arrival not just on what they might look forward to, but what they must watch out for.

My predecessor, Ronan Gargan, enjoyed four fabulous years in Hungary. His handover extolled the richness of our countries’ cultural connections and detailed our deepening commercial and community ties. But, noting the number of invitations I could expect, he ended with a caution: ‘‘Beware. From experience I can confirm Budapest is a ten-pound posting!’’

Attractive places of food
On this, and much else, Ronan was right. It can be no coincidence, surely, that the name ‘Pest’ derives from the old Slavonic for ‘oven’. Like the Irish, Hungarians take pride in their hospitality. And the quality of Magyar food is matched only by the quantity of Magyar portions. Lángos (a Hungarian deep fried flat bread), I quickly found, comes in only one size: nagy [large].
I have a sweet tooth – inherited from my Swedish papa. And, worse for my waist and wallet, two young daughters. So, walking between meetings, I find the scent of ‘sütemények’ [‘pastries’] often draws me into one of the cosy ‘cukrászdas’ [confectionaries] or pretty ‘pékségs’ [bakeries] that no Hungarian street is complete without.

Literary-culinary venues
Like my native Dublin, Budapest is a literary city. And the coffeehouses here have a special heritage. Sipping espresso at the Central Café, you can readily imagine Gyula Krúdy staring out these same grand windows, whilst setting Sinbad sailing across the seven seas. Or, if you can squeeze past the tourists into the iconic New York Café, grin at the thought of the great Ferenc Molnár so desperate to keep its doors open that he flung its key into the depths of the Danube. Like Dublin pubs, every Hungarian kávéház [coffeehouse] has a history.

Hungarian Dubliners’ bakery in Budapest
My favourite spot is newer to the scene. But for me, no less special. Arán, the Gaelic word for ‘Bread’, is in Budapest’s Jewish quarter. Its owners, Kinga and Attila Pécsi, opened the pékség in 2019, returning here after a happy decade in Dublin, where Kinga completed a degree in Baking and Pastry Arts Management. Most mornings, Arán’s celebrated sour dough, Paddy, named after Ireland’s patron saint, draws queues down Wesselényi utca. And their banana bread is, as they say here, ‘tök jó’ [really cool]. But as the son of a migrant myself, and as representative of a nation enriched by multiculturalism, it’s Kinga and Attila’s story that moves me. It exemplifies the cultural wealth that so often flows from migration, and the special affinity between our countries.

Hungarian refugee cake in Dublin
Back home over Christmas, I chanced upon another remarkable kávéház connection. At the heart of Grafton Street, Dublin’s busiest shopping thoroughfare, Bewley’s is Ireland’s most famous café. Three years ago, Hazel Carmichael, its chief baker, rediscovered the recipe of a small, conical, chocolate-covered cake, known to generations of Dubliners as ‘Mary Cake’. A variation of Marika Cake, it was brought to Bewley’s in 1956 by master Budapest confectioner Henri Spelter, one of 560 Magyars granted refuge in Ireland under the first major UN refugee programme in which the young state participated. In time, like so many Magyar and Irish, Spelter moved on to the United States. For decades, his recipe was lost. But in 2021, Carmichael tracked him down to New York. And, while Spelter had died just that month, at grand age of 92, Carmichael met his granddaughter, Carolina Malogan. Together, the two women brought the ‘Mary Cake’ back to Bewley’s where each cake sold today raises funds for the Red Cross in supporting Ukrainians displaced by Russia’s invasion, as Spelter in 1956. As Hazel notes, ‘‘it is a story of what refugees bring to us.” And, after second helpings I can confirm, a truly delicious cake!

The magic of MagyÍr
Around the halfway point of my posting – and, yes, fully five pounds heavier – these are but two of many remarkable stories I’ve discovered of how Hungary and Ireland, distant geographically, are closely bound through culture and community. They represent, to me, the magic of MagyÍr – a flavour I will savour long after my posting ends.