an Argentine steak house in Budapest . . . not a churascurria (sic) . . .
My adventure to play golf at Baloton took even longer than I had imagined . . . 12 hours door to door, so it was after 8pm before I got back . . .I was starving and met Mrs on the way out the door, she was starving . . . we stomped quick-time over to Tereza Utca with the idea of fast-food, but blew off the pizza, doner kebab, and burger-king, when we saw la Pampa . . .
Bring us the soups, pumpkin and black-bean, ASAP, I pleaded, we're starving.
And a bottle of the house-label Cab-Franc (mmmmmmmmmmmmm).
and some bread.
and they did.
They look pretty ordinary here, but they were fantastic to us, then-and-there. . . 8^D . . .
The steaks were great, tender, small 200 gram portions of tenderloin . . . the smallest, best beef we can get is our motto, if you see how I mean . . . it doesn't look like much on the plate, with *1* potato chip . . . 8^D . . . and it *was* kinda salty . . .that was ok for me, since I'd desalinated playing golf in the warmer-than-expected weather on the more grueling-than-expected golf course at Balanton GC, but Mrs' balked eventually, after her protein deficiency had been overcome . . .
the vegetables were not-horrible . . . cheesy spinach and mush asparagus. Ok. Ok. Ok.
Good place. . . totally got it going on . . . organized like a franchiese, but not, so the best of both worlds.