Tukure Mart in Everett: A Hidden Gem That Feels Like Home for Nepali Students in Boston
I’ve never felt more at home in America than the day I stumbled into Tukure Mart in Everett, Massachusetts. What began as a quick errand to grab mustard oil and chauchau turned into an unexpected emotional experience—one I still carry with me.
As I walked in, I noticed something unusual: tucked in the back, behind the aisles of groceries, stood an older Nepali woman wearing a patuka, cooking. The scent alone transported me. But what really caught my eye was the handwritten menu on the wall—yes, actual Nepali food you could order right there inside the store.
Naturally, I was thrilled. I ordered as much as I could. The moment felt sacred. There I was, eating food made not by a faceless chef hidden behind swinging doors, but by someone who reminded me of my aama or bajai—someone cooking with the same care and instinct that comes from decades of feeding family.
The Bhatti Vibes
The setup is simple: two small tables in the middle of the store, low stools, Nepali chatter floating in the air, and steam rising from hot plates of food made right in front of you. It felt less like a restaurant and more like a bhatti—a cozy eatery in some corner of Kathmandu, where the menu is spoken, not printed, and the food feels like it knows your name.
My friend, who’s vegetarian on certain days, ordered three plates of veg momo because they were that good. And she’s not even from Nepal.
A Moment I’ll Never Forget
One visit stands out the most. I had driven all the way from Worcester to Everett—just for the food at Tukure Nepali Cuisine. When I arrived, the store was closed. The front door was locked. My heart sank.
Still, I called the number listed on Google Maps, just in case. A woman picked up and told me, gently, that the kitchen was closed for the day. I mentioned I had driven all the way there, and without hesitation, she opened the back door for me. She welcomed me in with a warm smile and said she’d make something for me anyway.
That night, I didn’t just eat a meal—I experienced care. The kind you can’t order off a menu. The kind that tastes like home. It wasn’t just the food that filled me—it was the hospitality, the love, and the quiet understanding between two people who share a common language, culture, and sense of belonging.
Why Tukure Matters
There’s something profoundly human about being able to see who is cooking your food—to see their hands move the way your mom’s do, to smell mustard oil and hing before the plate even reaches your table. That level of transparency, intimacy, and trust is something most restaurants can't replicate. It’s not polished or curated for Yelp. It’s real.
Tukure isn’t just a mart. It’s not just a kitchen. It’s a portal—a brief return to Nepal, tucked inside a convenience store in Everett.
If you ever find yourself in the area, do yourself a favor and stop by Tukure Nepali Cuisine. Sit down, take off your mental load, and enjoy food made with history, heart, and so much soul.
A true hidden gem.
