On a dark corner where Kazinczy meets Király utca, Wichmann was a rare beacon of light when it opened in 1986. The same year that Queen played Budapest and Maradona lifted the World Cup, Hungary’s capital was bereft of pubs and hostelries. Foreigners drank in hotel cafés, Hungarians drank at home.
In truth, there was nothing much to entice anyone here, just a few simple tables and chairs, a little bar counter, domestic beer in bottles. The only salient feature was Wichmann’s dog, a rather attentive Alsatian. Later on, as more places set up in isolated spots around Pest, ropi were provided for sustenance, thin, thirst-inducing breadsticks. In time, the snack range extended to breaded meat.
The most remarkable thing about Wichmann is how little it has changed in 32 years. Mercury may no longer be with us, Maradona a huge angry shadow of his former self, but the curious time traveller would see little difference between the tatty landmark of today and the pioneer of 1986.
So, let’s all raise a glass to Wichmann – before the lights really do go out.