Budapest takes the cake.

Cakes at Lukacs.

How can I not like Budapest, a place where the cake is king. Everywhere we go, there are cafes and "cukraszkas" with shelves and shelves filled with delectable wonders in all different varieties all calling my name.

Today, Dan came up with the brilliant idea to eat cake not once, but TWICE. Can you see why we're together?

After a walk by the Parliament Building and taking in the House of Terror Museum (a museum devoted to the terror that reigned in Hungary during the Nazi and Communist eras), we decided to get out of the rain by stopping into Lukacs. This café had the most beautiful display of cakes. There were cakes made of vanilla, cakes made out of chocolate. There were pastries and custards. There were others with fruits, some with nuts, one with poppy seeds. Cakes in the shape of triangles, circles, squares, even tear-shaped. Brown cakes. White cakes. Pink cakes. Multi-color cakes. All these cakes, like little pieces of artwork, lined up in perfect rows, all ready to be eaten.

The girl behind the counter was helpful. I asked her about five different cakes and stopped asking because Dan was making faces. We opted to share a round pastry sandwich filled with vanilla crème and topped with sugar. It was a good choice. The pasty was soft, but not greasy, the crème just the right richness. I especially liked that there just a tinge of crunch in the sugar, which just melted in your mouth.

After dinner, later on in the day, we rushed to Gerbeaud, Budapest's most famous café. The girls who worked there seemed worn-out and tired, but we weren't going to let that get us down. Dan had a chocolate covered log filled with chocolate crème. I had a Napoleon torte, with five layers of crème between walnut cake. This time, it was Dan who was in heaven.

"This cake is ridic," he said, which in case you don't know Dan-speak, is short for "This cake is ridiculous." Ridiculously good, that is.

Not only did the cakes taste good, but I really enjoyed the ambiance of the places we went. Both places had huge rooms better fit for a wedding than a cake shop. Especially Gerbeaud, with its high ceilings, glittery chandeliers, rich textured wallpaper and heavy curtains, it seemed like we should be eating with royalty.

Well, if cake is king, I am happy to be queen. I don't know what that makes Dan. The jack? Nahhh...he's the joker.

Dan at Lukacs.

Me at Gerbeaud.

Dan and I, walking off the cake.