Ooh, Da-noo-bie, Shattered, Shattered

When I was younger, I used to butcher song lyrics. So that the Rolling Stones' "Shattered" came out, it was "Oh, dan-u-bie, shattered, shattered.". Now, as I prepare to ring in 2008 watching fireworks over the Danube, I find that butchered Stones tune streaming through my head as I walk away from the Gellert into the pleasant, untouristed neighborhood where I seek an early dinner, followed a bit of fortification before I brave the long walk to the public street party where thousands of Magyars will embrace 2008.

As I walk down the boulevard, a couple of signs for import beer catch my eye. In the centre of town, such signs say "avoid", but away from the tourists, the signs seem a mark of quality. I'm drawn towards the menu, which mostly consisted either of heavy Hungarian standards or occasional American-style. choices. But as I prepare to turn away, I see "Duck breast in orange-rosemary sauce." A smile reaches across my face. As I enter, I'm greeted by a cavernous pub-like venue that looked like a pirate ship. I was the only guest, but they were happy to serve me as they decked out for the festivities later in the evening.

The place is the Kisrablo at Zenta u. 3, Budapest. It must be a dark horse for best duck a' l'orange on the planet. Thr presentation is most-unusual: a char-grilled duck breast that looks more like a sirloin, served with crownlike potato croquettes and a sauce redolent of fresh oranges rather than the syrupy, liqueur-spiked renditions which have made the dish cliched if tasty.

The staff at Kisrablo is English-speaking and congenial, particularly waiter Verhas Gabor, who offered some interesting commentary about life for an enterprising young man in the New Europe while providing impeccable service.

I parcel out the duck in tiny bites. It is fabulous. And the light house-music soundtrack provides an even deeper degree of comfort. Hearing Bob Sinclar's World Hold On as I walked in told me I'd found the right place (as the song had been the theme song to last year's Argentina trip)..

Even the Borsodi Sor, the second-place local brew (next to Heineken' Dreher) fulfilled its role cleanly and inoffensively, though this dish would go much better with a clean sauvignon blanc.

I make up for the wine deficiency with a dessert serving of Tokay, Hungaria's epic after diinner wine. It mounts a full-on incursion on the tastebuds, hijacking them with a symphony of sweet, sour and herbal tastes. Only the salt taste buds escape the onslaught unscathed. After experiencing such flavorsome luxury, I'm left to ponder why Tokay, while storied, is losing out to the likes of port, sauterne and ice wine in the dessert wine category. If you've never had an ice-cold half-glass of 5 Star (5 Puttonyos) Tokay (brand isn't too important), go to your nearest halfway-decent wine shop and get a small bottle. Worth every penny, and shouldn't be too many. At the Kisrablo, the Tokay cost less than EUR 2, and the whole meal came in at EUR 25 including a reasonable tip.

I could have done with a quarter glass. I don't want to leave any, but I've gotten the, albeit superlative, idea. Small sips are better than big sips. Tokay could teach me a few things about restraint.

Hungarian's a brutal language. It would make much more sense to me if written in Arabic, Georgian or Cuneiform. In Latin it challenges one to decipher it, only to sneer at the disconnect between what the non Hungarian seeks to decipher and what the words really mean. Porkolt is a stew, what non-Hungarians call "goulash", which does not necessarily contain pork. Borozo means wine bar. Sorozo means beer bar.. It is doubtful that Bozo means clown.

As the last drips of tokay are drained, I head towards a nearby sorozo to conquer a foe I couldn't surmount last night, Dreher "Bak", which is no bock but a full-throated stout. Imagine Guinness concentrate in a syrup form. At 7.3% alcohol, you could mix with an equal amount of fizzy water to get the equivalent of two of Dublin's finest.

A small amount of translucency is present after pouring this not-so-amber nectar. The foam tastes great. The first steps seem more subtle than yesterday's truculence. Indeed, it gives way to a bit more balance. Am glad I gave it a second effort.

One other thing I gave a second-effort was Unicum, the liqueur favored by the characters in "Prague", a book actually about expats living in Budapest. For those familiar with Jagermeister, it tastes like Jager had an affair with an orange peel and produced Unicum as the offspring. For those unfamiliar with Jager, imagine adult cough syrup mixed with a bit of Coca-Cola...and an orange peel.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, aside from my ill considered purchase of a bottle of Hungarian bubbly at the not-terribly-well attended street party. There was little in the way of actual fireworks over the Danube--just a few freelance volleys. But the Danube itself was stunning. And Budapest shone. Not a bad place to ring in 2008.