Duh.  Everyone knows that Coriandrum sativum, the annual herb in the Apiaceae family familiarly named “coriander” is known in the Americas as cilantro.

Except for me.  Which is mildly devastating to the picture that I have of myself as a culinary saveur. More distressing, perhaps, is that I have long given up the hope of finding cilantro here, thus giving up an array of my favorite foods.  What is wrong with me?  How could I have not known this?

I’m so sorry Nigella.  I don’t deserve you, and I never did.

I could make an excuse here about the English to Hungarian language barrier, but Koriander is a pretty easy cognate to grasp.

So anyway, on Saturday, Györgyi called our local, upscale foodie market in town: Culinaris. “Cilantro?–please hold… Koriander? Of course we have Koriander…”


So I dashed there on my little Mexican flavored wings and snatched up the last batch. (The shortage was due to the other American ex-pats in Budapest, whose numbers are never more clearly expressed than at every holiday when there is a surprising shortage of Tortilla chips and avocados.)

Behold–the herb of the gods:

And since yesterday was Superbowl Sunday, I graced Györgyi with my salsa recipe. And bless her Hungarian heart, she loved it.

In honor of this great moment in my life in Hungary, I will post my favorite cilantro-dance of all time. Which I have done several times since we found it here and will do it again, and in public.

(The greatest animated character of all time, from the genius–yes I said it–genius, American Dad!):


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