A fast food Mexican restaurant in Budapest seems like a no-brainer. Taquerias successfully became a cheap alternative to franchise restaurants in California, and the chain Fresh Tortilla spread across New York with such muscle that with you’d have thought it was owned by Starbucks. Budapest, about ten years behind such trends, has finally seen the opening of Speedy Burritos Mexikói Gyorsétterem on Erzsébet körút. Decorated with caricatures of Mexican peasants enjoying their simple but happy rural life, a few iguana sculptures, and the odd sombrero, there can be no mistaking that you are in for the most counterfeit of experiences before even taking your first bite.
Fake Mexican food, as most Americans know, can be perfectly wonderful. If it is truly good fake Mexican, it overpowers all objections by the sheer variety of its ingredients and size of its portions. Unfortunately, Speedy Burrito has fashioned themselves on local Chinese büfés rather than the American model of culinary mongrelization (to see that fast and made-to-order are not mutually exclusive, walk into any Subway Sandwich shop). S. B.’s chicken or beef burrito is pre-rolled and left to bake under a sunlamp until the tortilla is dry and crispy. The meat tasted fresh enough, thought it was accompanied by a lone piece of soggy cooked-through lettuce: there was no accompanying cheese, no beans, nor rice or vegetables. Refried beans come on the side as part of the Burrito tál (platter), as does sour cream, rice and tomato. Salsa needs to be ordered as an extra (don’t be afraid to try the spicy salsa, it has the bite of a toothless Chihuahua).
Speedy Burrito claims to have the best chili in town. Though chili itself isn’t Mexican in origin, it was a claim that could not be ignored. Ordering it was a trial: asking for chili con queso (as listed on the menu) provoked stare of utter incomprehension, even after slowing repeating each word monosyllabically, which is impossible to do without sounding at once sarcastic and idiotic. Foolishly, I had not magyarized the words so chili sounds like chee-lee, which, weirdly, also makes one sound like Speedy Gonzalez. How you magyarize queso is still beyond me, I simply said sajtos. After finally getting said dish, I came to believe that I had to order chili sarcastically because I was to receive a chili that was no much more than a Bolognese sauce sarcastically prepared.
Despite the dismal outlook, I still find myself craving this poor substitute, and will no doubt be found on a Sunday, when nothing else is open, sitting under a sombrero, humming along with Juanes, dreaming of warmer days.
