As most of people reading this site are never likely to visit Cleveland, Ohio, and as most of those thousands of Hungarians in what was once Hungary's second city by population have already been to Little Budapest, it is difficult to know where to start this review, or review of sorts. It is probably a little obvious to point out that the restaurant finds itself stranded in the distinctly un-Hungarian surroundings of a strip mall - if the Hungarian Restaurant at the End of the Universe was a Douglas Adam's book, a picture of little Budapest would be on the cover. It begs the question, how Hungarian can a Hungarian restaurant in the suburban sprawl of Cleveland really be?

Stepping into Little Budapest feels very much like a step back in time, or at least a step into countryside restaurant out of touch with the cosmopolitan airs and graces of downtown BP. Although the Hungarian décor is far from traditional, it is a strangely convincing snapshot of socialist-era Hungary, a time when choice was a luxury and fixtures were bought to last, rather than to be tossed away with the changing fashions. And that's no doubt what Americans expect of an "Eastern European" restaurant.

The difficult-to-define yet unmistakable character of the place is reflected in the owner, József, a friendly and lively Hungarian who is quick to spar and joke with the not-obviously-Hungarian patrons (rather than proffer formulaic "have a nice days"). His background certainly explains a few things. He told us he walks with a limp after sustaining a series of knee injuries while playing soccer for Vasas in the Hungarian first division, and I hear he was once quoted in a local newspaper boasting he was the "Michael Jordan of Hungarian soccer." At the end of his football career, he went into the restaurant business, working in the once-famous Gundel and owning a string of Budapest restaurants. It was only when the state confiscated his restaurants (there is no doubt more to this story) that he fled to the West in 1987. So although the restaurant doesn't have the traditional décor or ambiance of a csárda or the faded glory of a Gundel, it does give the feeling that it has seen very many good times, shady business deals, hearty meals and spilt shots of Unicum in the best Hungarian traditions.

But what of the food?

You can probably guess what is on the menu, even if you couldn't turn every Americanized translation back into a recognizable Hungarian dish. (The Viennese may also protest the appropriation of their own speciality, the Schnitzel.) There is stuffed cabbage, lecsó, chicken paprikás and all the rest, as well as the obligatory flaming Gundel pancake. And the one thing Hungarian and American cuisine certainly have in common is the daunting portions. Little Budapest lives up to both stereotypes. Take a "small" portion if you have eaten in the last 48 hours.

As with most Hungarian restaurants abroad, and often at home, the quality of the food suffers due to a lack of competition, and the nearby Balaton notwithstanding, the food was good if a little tired - like they had been making the same stuff over and over again for 20 years. Which of course they have - but on reflection, maybe it's just because I've been eating it for even longer.

So to ensure this review isn't totally irrelevant, it is worth summing up with a few observations brought back from the Hungarian Restaurant at the End of the Universe.

Little Budapest has a wealth of competition from slick franchises in all directions, but it was nonetheless doing a reasonable trade on a Wednesday night, despite prices on a par with the average Boston Restaurant, that's to say somewhere between $15 and $20 for an entrée.

Perhaps Little Budapest is more of a yardstick for how Hungarian restaurant culture has developed, or some would say lost its way, in the last decade and a half. In the real Budapest, Little Budapest would be considered a relic, but perhaps just the kind of relic welcomed by tourists in search of something authentic and Hungarian - while the latest overpriced "international" restaurant sits empty.

In other words, although the average Budapester may have slowly tired of socialist-era restaurants serving the same solid Hungarian restaurant fare, there are plenty of Yanks and other first-timers who just can't get enough of our huge American-Hungarian portions. For the rest of us, perhaps it's time to explore real Hungarian food, rather than the well-worn standards served up by restaurants through the ages.