Of course I’d heard of chimney cakes. Some time ago, I learned that somewhere in Sydney there was a café which made them, but I had no real concept of what they were.

No one said they were Hungarian. No one mentioned they were like a baked doughnut. I don’t even remember anyone disclosing that they are the closest thing to nirvana.

It took a trip to Wellington, New Zealand, and a morning stroll through another thing that I was unaware of, the city’s Sunday morning riverside markets. Bustling, strung out along the bay’s edge, selling delicacies you don’t get here in Sydney: whitebait fritters cooked to order (that’s the slippery, silvery teeny fish held together with a batter, and utterly delicious), salmon from Stewart Island in the country’s far south, cheeses, flavoured salts – and kürtosh.

Almost at the end of the blowout menu of stalls finally I found one serving towers of dough rings, baked golden, lustrous with sugar, showered with cinnamon, crusty with nuts.

Somehow I knew what they were, but no way did I realise how they were made. Basically it’s this: a rope of tender pliable bun dough is wound around a thick greased wooden rolling pin, covering its 20 centimetres or so length.

The dough is then anointed with melted butter, rolled in sugar then placed in an open sided ‘oven’ where it rotates in front of the glowing heat-source, baking and caramelising. Think, doner kebabs, to get an approximate idea of the method.

But that’s where the similarity stops. The result is a million times better than the humble doner.

Once cooked, the kürtosh tower is released from its rolling pin, rolled in whatever topping is requested, then wrapped for the next person in the lengthening queue. Once I had mine, I ate it perched on a nearby concrete wall. It was too good to wait another moment for.

However…that was Wellington, and I live in Sydney, so once back home it didn’t take me long to locate one of the string of the (now) four kürtosh cafes in my town, Randwick, Crows Nest, Surry Hills and, newest, Darlinghurst. Find them all here.

Surry Hills worked well for me, right near the end of Crown Street where it meets Cleveland. Parking right outside, amazing aromas from inside, a table, coffee, what more could I want?

Much more comfortably seated this time than I was in Wellington, I shared my kürtosh (did I mention that unless carbs are your best friend, a whole one is a little daunting to consume solo) and it had the same effect on my friend as my virgin kürtÅ‘sh-tasting had on me.

Although the flavour is similar, unlike a doughnut, there is a pastry crispness to kürtosh, in counterpoint to the cooked but tender inner parts. I am glad I live a good distance from all of these cafes as this pastry/bread is totally addictive. The café also had a long display counter of cakes and other goodies. Better still, little tastes were available and I have to say that ‘Mum’s chocolate cake’ was made by a Mum who truly knew what she was doing. None of that chemical, bulk cake mixture flavour, just good home cooking.

Now, you could consume these delicious things forever without a care in the world for their pedigree or provenance, but just in case you need a bit of history with your kürtÅ‘sh, it is this: the name kürtosh comes from kürtskalács - a traditional Hungarian pastry famously known as chimney cake. This cylindrical yeast pastry is often sold as street snacks from carts all over Hungary. Once a festive treat, now it is part of everyday consumption. If you are interested in knowing more, kürtosh has quite an interesting past. Read about it.

But while all of this might be very interesting, for me, nothing beats watching these unique breads being baked, and (better still) crunching into one with a friend to share it with, and a good coffee.

Oh, and maybe a hefty chunk of Mum’s chocolate cake to take home with me.

- by Sally Hammond