Cold cherry soup. I tried this stuff years ago when my beloved Hungarian ex-roommate Olga whipped some up in Hong Kong. No Hungarian model ever leaves home without a selection of those Knorr packets in her suitcase- you can make everything from bean soup to tzatziki to chocolate custard. Or, you can not make it, leave it behind in the models' apartment cupboard, and let your successors try to decipher the directions on the back.
Snidlinggel. I fucking dare you not to adore that. You can't! (Also, ye Super Mario World etymologists, gomba = mushroom.)
Tea tree and mint-scented dish soap: mmm.
I was totally transfixed by these Burger King adverts. The font and illustrations and glossy ubiquity (BK must be newly arrived in Hungary) all look so American, and the text so close to English, that your eye can almost slide past without noticing that the thing is actually written in extraterrestrial Hungarian. You know that part in "A Sound of Thunder" when they finally make it back from the Jurassic and they decide to go out for Whoppers and milkshakes, and it's not until they're stomping their muddy butterfly boots into BK and looking up at the menu that they realize something is terribly wrong? Chilling!
Clockwise from top left, those side orders are chicken wings, fried shrimp, onion rings (two ways to say onion = hagyma, vöröshagyma), and "burritos" (shudder).