It’s Phuchka, Mind You

This piece is a nostalgic tribute to phuchka, Kolkata’s beloved street snack. It captures the essence of its flavors, the rituals of street vendors, and the joyful memories surrounding it. From spicy tamarind water to cherished local customs, phuchka remains an irreplaceable symbol of Kolkata’s food culture and identity.

Ah, those childhood memories of ’80s Calcutta hover around me like friendly ghosts. The sight of the phuchka-wala carrying his wares was pure delight. A large cane basket, covered with a red cloth, held treasures that fueled foodie dreams. The magical spheres, filled to the brim and wrapped in plastic, waited to be devoured. Of course, the joy would fade by day’s end when the phuchka-wala called it a night. Later, square glass containers replaced the cane basket, but like a first love, the basket and red cloth duo lingers on with bittersweet nostalgia—or as locals prefer their phuchkastokjhaal, and mishti.


Even the king of street food isn’t invincible on his own. After all, can a hero win his love without his best friend? What would Veeru be without Jai? Despite its claim to fame, a phuchka is helpless without its aloo and tetul.

As soon as I approach the stall, my eyes search for the steel bowl. There, the boiled potatoes wait patiently to be peeled and mashed. Finely chopped green chilies and coriander leaves, tiny yet mighty, await their turn, with a handful of boiled chickpeas ready to join the fray. Ground spices sprinkle over the mixture, creating a final, joyous reunion of ingredients before their sacrifice at the altar of pure bliss.

My mouth waters as I spot the pièce de résistance—the tamarind water. A massive pitcher, made of clay or steel, brims with this incredible elixir, spices and coriander floating within. A slight stir with the ladle is all it takes to reach nirvana.


Without a single MBA degree, these phuchka-walas have long taught us that the customer is king. A gentleman complains about the spice level of his phuchka. Without hesitation, the vendor mashes extra potatoes. The college girl beside him immediately chimes in, “Make mine extra spicy, bhaiyya.” In an instant, the vendor partitions the potatoes, adding a generous spoonful of chili powder for her. All this, mind you, while maintaining the pace. The phuchkas move seamlessly from basket to mouth. The gentleman enjoys his mild treat, while the young girl, tears streaming down her cheeks, pauses briefly to blow her nose.


I remember gulping down five phuchkas for one rupee on Raja Basanta Roy Road in South Calcutta. The phuchkas at New Market had their own unique flavor. Over time, the price evolved to one rupee per piece. After German classes, our vocabulary shifted from Kartoffel (potato) to aloo, and we made a beeline for our messiah. The burlesque man outside the Max Mueller Bhawan on Gurusaday Road didn’t just make heavenly phuchkas—his aloor dom could rival any Masterchef contestant’s dish in aroma. By the 2000s, spiced boiled potatoes became rare with vendors. Of course, churmur still retained its place, albeit as a sidekick. The blend of flattened crispy pooris and boiled potatoes, thankfully, didn’t go extinct.


If you belong to the gloves brigade, here’s some free advice: stay away from the phuchkas. Adding mineral water to the tamarind water is sacrilege, punishable on Judgment Day. And if you’re craving carrots and cabbage as fillings, just head to Subway. If you’re in the mood to get tipsy, by all means, take fifteen tequila shots—but please spare the phuchkas! Vodka phuchkas? Absolutely not!


To a Kolkatan, phuchka is akin to our love for our MahanayakGol gappas and pani puris may come and go, but we revere Uttam Kumar more than the Khans and Kapoors of Bollywood. Here’s to the delectable phuchkas—mixed with bare hands. Slurrrrpppppp!


By Narayani V Manapadam

“Narayani is an IT Professional lost in the dreary world of Excel. When time permits, she loves to get lost in the maze of Word(s). But nothing makes her happier than being a cat momma to her beloved Uttam.”

She can be contacted at fraunara@gmail.com.

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