It was a rainy Tuesday evening in East London, and honestly, I wasn’t expecting much. I’d walked past Green Street a hundred times before. The sari shops. The sound of Bengali being spoken on every corner. The smell of spices drifting out of restaurant doors. But that night, something stopped me mid-step.
A small handwritten sign outside a tiny shop said one word: Fuchka.
My stomach did a little flip. I hadn’t seen that word written down since I left Dhaka.
If you’ve never heard of Fuchka before, don’t worry. Most people in the UK haven’t either. But if you’re always hunting for the next real, authentic street food find in London, stay with me. This one’s special.
