There is something about the sound of sizzling sausages and the smell of onions and garlic, bacon and potatoes all being cooked over a gas burner in a small Hungarian saturday market, the adjacent tables full of local people, out of towners and tourists from far flung parts, drinking beer and wine and dining al fresco, to the sound of a local band, playing that mesmeric Hungarian gypsy music.
Buy some uncooked sausages, take 'em home and put them in a pan, chop the veggies up and spread them around the pan, put on some music... but it ain't quite the same.
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