When the Dalai Lama fled Tibet for India in 1959, Tibetan immigrants followed, bringing along momos, the stuffed, steamed dumplings that have since become one of Delhi’s most popular street snacks. Nepali vendors sell them by the roadside all over the city, but you can also find them in the Majnu Ka Tilla area, home to some of Delhi’s Tibetan community. Near the neighborhood monastery, you’ll find a stall selling laphing, a flat, translucent pancake stuffed with soybeans and tossed with red chile paste and green onions. Then hop to the Himalayan, a beloved restaurant that serves all kinds of momos and other Tibetan favorites like shabaley (large, deep-fried, savory stuffed pastries), tingmo (yeasty bread shaped like a mountain and eaten with tea or stewed meats), and a cold beer. For tea and cake, head to the small AMA cafe, which is popular among students. Ask your taxi to drop you on the side of the monastery and then walk down the only lane to find the stalls and restaurants. [$]

Popular in North India and Pakistan, nihari is a fragrant goat or beef stew cooked with heaps of ginger and served with freshly made khameeri roti (light, dry flatbread) to soak up the succulent meat. At Noora Nihari, a little shack in one of Delhi’s oldest neighborhoods, the nihari cooks for 12 hours before servers dole it out to hundreds of early risers on their way to prayer and tipsy youngsters ending their night at dawn. [$]

Shahjahanabad, the old city, is a haven of shops and vendors selling snacks and sweetmeats. Savory bites like dahi bhalla (fried lentil balls in yogurt) and aloo tikki (potato cutlets topped with yogurt and chutneys made of tamarind and mint) are best at iconic chaat shop Natraj. Kanwarji Sweets, a favorite local sweets shop, does the best gulab jamun (solidified milk soaked in cardamom-rose syrup), while Chaina Ram makes a perfectly sweet halwa from simmered lentils. To make daulat ki chaat, vendors combine sugar, saffron, and heavy cream, then leave the mixture outside to blend with early-morning dew before selling the treat to early risers (the dessert spoils in the city’s heat). [$]

Kachoris are one of North India’s most ubiquitous breakfasts. Pushcart vendors stuff flaky pastries with lentils or potatoes, deep-fry them, and serve them with chutneys of anise or mint. Jung Bahadur in the historical Chandni Chowk nook of the old city is one of the city’s stalwarts. The stall sells kachoris stuffed with lentils and herbs, alongside stewy potatoes, chiles, and coriander. A plate makes a snack or a meal, depending on your appetite. Either way, take yours onto a neighboring street to eat as you admire the shops and homes stacked on top of each other like a house of cards. [$]

Delhi has many little shops serving the sweet rice pudding known as kheer, but the Siddique family have distinguished their stall in the middle of Old Delhi as a culinary landmark. Locals say the transcendent bowls of kheer can spark love between young couples who share them. Come with time to chat — owner Jamaluddin Siddique is prone to deep conversations and offers specks of advice with every bite you take. Kheer — creamy, soft, and transportive with the scent of ground cardamom — is a dish that has lived in the old city for centuries and represents Delhi comfort food at its best. Fun Bollywood fact: Madhubala grew up in the house above the shop. [$]

The Jama Masjid, a mosque built by emperor Shah Jahan (the man behind the Taj Mahal) is one of Delhi’s top attractions, but it’s worth visiting just to try some of the city’s best food nearby. The lane from the old city to the mosque is dotted with kebab shops and dessert spots, but for sit-down Old Delhi fare, head to Al Jawahar, which locals prefer to its oft-recommended neighbor Karim’s. Al Jawahar is a classic lunch room, with basic tables, uniformed waiters, and an unchanging menu of classics. Bring friends and share a lunch of seekh kebabs (minced chicken spiced with coriander), thick and peppery mutton korma, and sheermal (sweet, saffron-dipped bread). Finish off with cardamom-spiked phirni rice pudding set in clay pots, and if you have room, a sweet, milky chai. [$$]

Unlike most naan in Delhi, which is merely an accompaniment to dips or meats, naan from the Punjabi city of Amritsar, at the border between India and Pakistan, is a meal unto itself. In West Delhi, home to many Punjabi immigrants and their favorite foods, naan-ghar (naan house) Prem Di Hatti stuffs Amritsari-style naan with fresh, house-made paneer, before cooking it in a tandoor and delivering it to the table with a smear of butter and a side of pickled onions. The joy is simple: soft crumbly paneer and fresh bread hot from the oven, paired with a thick, sweet lassi garnished with pistachios. Prem Di Hatti sells out as the day rolls on, so it’s best to visit for breakfast. [$]

Kulfi, often called Indian ice cream, usually consists of milk cooked with saffron, cardamom, and pistachios, and frozen to a stick like a popsicle. Kuremal Mohanlal began freezing local fruit into kulfi a century ago. On a lane tucked in the old city, the small shop makes kulfis from mangoes, the favorite Indian cheeku (sapodilla), sugarcane, litchis, and jamun (a sour purple fruit that is eternally in vogue in the subcontinent). They also do kulfis with fig, cream, coconuts, and dates, and a more adventurous version involving fruit-based ice cream set inside hollowed apples and pomegranates. Kuremal is a legend with locals and a rare joy on a hot Delhi day. [$]

Inside the crumbling walls of one of Connaught Place’s Georgian-style relics, Wenger’s cake shop has hosted generations of fervently loyal Delhi residents. In keeping with English tradition, Wenger’s serves fresh cream-stuffed buns and biscuits dotted with jam, but the shop also offers specialties like baguettes stuffed with cheese and chopped pieces of tandoori chicken, as well as shami kebabs (fried minced lamb cutlets). Get a “pastry,” which in Delhi just means a piece of cake. Or if you feel like something savory, try the patties, flaky bread rolls stuffed with cheese and mushrooms that make great tea snacks. [$]

Golgappe (known as panipuri in Mumbai) are abundant in stalls across the city. The crispy, hollow semolina balls are stuffed with tamarind, potatoes, and chickpeas, and then filled with cold, tangy tamarind juice. Bhimsain’s Bengali Sweet House was one of the first to popularize the dish in the city. The shop also offers traditional Indian sweets like ladoos (small sweets that come in many shapes, textures, and fillings) and jalebis (intensely sweet spirals of wheat flour fried in hot oil, and dipped in sugar syrup and saffron) that are eternally popular among locals and tourists. A family feud led rivals to open a similarly named shop nearby, but you’ll know the right store by the large crowd lingering out front and the big red facade. [$]

Located inside one of Delhi’s independent art centers, Triveni transforms the roadside chai tradition into a sit-down space, where artists, potters, and dancers come together over steaming cups and small bites. The casual cafe offers classic Indian snacks like masala cheese toast — a sandwich stuffed with onions, garlic, tomatoes, and cheese — and West Indian sabudana khichdi, a cool, lightly spiced snack made from tapioca and peanuts. In Delhi’s scorching summers, Triveni’s version of masala chaas (a thin, spiced yogurt drink) is a respite from the heat. [$-$$]

Cafe Lota offers a breezy indoor-outdoor space perfect for lunch on a day when Delhi weather is kind. The kitchen tackles the daunting task of pan-Indian cuisine, also highlighting dishes from outlying areas of the country that sometimes get lost amid the fuss over rich northern fare. Among the nearly endless variety of dishes are breads made from ragi or millet, palak patta chaat (crispy spinach leaves topped with sweetened yogurt and chutney), and dal dhokli (a one-pot comfort meal from Gujarat with spinach and paneer dumplings simmered in lentils). In the summer, come for dessert in the form of mango golgappe (crispy, fried semolina balls filled with fragrant mango cream). If you’re not in the mood for a full meal, the cafe also serves drinks like aam panna (a sour mango drink) and excellent iced coffee. [$$$]

Chaat stalls are North India’s most democratic food culture. On any given street corner, you will find people lining up for fried snacks that differ from vendor to vendor in recipe, technique, and backstory. Mangla, a bustling little spot in a predominantly residential area of Delhi, is a local legend, but you may recognize it from its turn on the Netflix series Street Food. For aloo chaat, owner Dalchand Kashyap fries chunks of potato to a crisp in ghee and tops them with two chutneys: a fresh green version made with coriander and mint, and an aromatic, sweet red chutney made from tamarind, fennel seeds, and jaggery. Freshly squeezed lemon juice adds zest, and a garnish of grated radish provides quick relief from the rich flavors. Novelty is a big part of the chaat experience, and Kashyap’s trademark spices and condiments are well-kept secrets. [$]

An offshoot of Delhi restaurant the Big Chill, this small cake shop decked out in floral wallpaper is known for its European-style desserts, like a Viennese sponge berry cake made with fresh citrus juice and layers of berry-infused frosting, or a French chocolate eclair filled with coffee cream. The shop also offers an array of silky-smooth cheesecakes in flavors like vanilla, blueberry, and — perhaps the best — peanut butter and Kahlúa. In the morning, grab a coffee, sandwich, or almond croissant to go. The sprawling and picnic-ready Lodi Gardens are just a two-minute walk away. [$$]

An after-hours stalwart, this small shack under an overpass has been owned and operated by the same man for decades. According to Haji Yad Ilahi, the proprietor who usually goes by the honorific chacha (uncle), meat grills better by moonlight. Try his kakori kebabs, a classic style in Delhi that dates back to the time of emperors, particularly one toothless Asaf-ud-Daula who liked meat so moist that he didn’t have to chew. At Sab Ke Khatir, the kebabs consist of delicately spiced ground lamb marinated in mashed papaya and yogurt, and they emerge rich and melt-in-your-mouth tender. Be sure to order a plate of shami kebabs, round minced lamb patties, with a side of fresh mint chutney. Eat your kebabs with a paper-thin roomali roti, and finish off with phirni, Delhi’s favorite rice pudding made in mud pots with nuts and cardamom. [$]

In the historic Nizamuddin neighborhood, near the shrine to the Sufi saint of the same name, you’ll find a small kebab shop. Ghalib is named for one of Delhi’s most famous romantic poets, and the owner likes to say that the beef kebabs here are made with the writer’s eternal love. The mix of Bollywood film stars and local mosque-goers who frequent the tiny hole in the wall would have to agree. Do like the regulars and get one plate of the beef kebabs, two roomali rotis, and paper plates with puddles of Ghalib’s trademark chutney for dipping. Taxis don’t go inside Nizamuddin Basti, so get out on the side near the mosque (Nizamuddin Dargah) and ask for directions. [$]

Malai tikka (grilled chicken tossed in cream) is the specialty at this small butcher turned meat-focused restaurant in Central Delhi. Owned by two brothers, who can be overheard roaring orders to the kitchen, the restaurant serves chicken perfectly coated in a signature spice mix and tendered on the grill. Get yours with a roomali roti and a heap of chopped onions. The shop also does an excellent korma (meat cooked in a thick peppery gravy), but the real star is what comes alongside: a large, thick, yeasty roti known as khmeri. [$]

For four decades, Kadimi Sweets has drawn throngs of locals for many dishes, but the shop especially excels at samosas and jalebis. The samosas stuffed with potatoes will be familiar to visitors from around the world, but the version with peas and dal is even lighter, crumblier, and more flavorful. Meanwhile, the jalebis are skinny, crisp, and syrupy with sugar, rose, and saffron. On a rainy day, you’ll see them vanish into paper bags within seconds. [$]

Cramped and intimate, 4S is a popular dive bar among Delhi youth for its basic interior and low prices. Get a rum and Coke made with the city’s favorite spirit, Old Monk, and pair it with thoroughly greasy bar snacks that haven’t changed in decades. Try the chile potatoes, which are crisped and tossed in honey, ginger, and garlic, or opt for Sichuan lamb sprinkled with sesame seeds for crunch. The bar gets very crowded almost every night with regulars streaming in after work, so come prepared for a short wait for a table. [$]

Wherever you go in Delhi, you’ll often see locals crowded around plastic tables eating chhole bhature, a thick, spicy chickpea stew, or chhole, with thick hunks of a double-fried flatbread called bhatura. Everyone has their own thoughts on the best version of this ubiquitous dish, but Nagpal, in the city’s bustling and diverse central market, is almost universally beloved. Get a heaping plateful, ask for onions and green chiles on the side, and wash it all down with a tart lemon soda. Bhature are a speciality of the capital, and Nagpal carefully double-fries them so they are soft on the outside and crunchy inside. Hot chhole bhature is best enjoyed for lunch with a friend. [$]

Categorical is one of many gems in Humayunpur serving Manipuri food from the hilly state in Northeast India. The restaurant’s unstoppable young chefs are helping to change the discourse around foods typically excluded from sweeping notions of Indian cuisine, serving dishes like fish-head curry, ametpa (chutney made with fermented fish and Naga king chiles, aka ghost peppers), sweets made from black rice, fragrant duck curry, and the region’s special red tea. The eco thalis include tastes of the restaurant’s best dishes, with a main fish, meat, or vegetable selection alongside a filling mound of sweet, sticky Manipuri rice. Try the atingba, rice beer traditional in many tribes in Manipur. The version at Categorical is sweet and light. [$]

Hidden in a basement in Humayunpur, a suburban neighborhood that’s home to many immigrants from Northeast India, Hornbill focuses on the cuisine of the Angami Naga tribe, one of the 19 ethnic communities that live in the state of Nagaland. Naga dishes are unique, commonly featuring smoked pork, fermented fish, bamboo shoots, and axone, a local variety of soybean that is ground into a paste and used to cook meat. Ghost peppers (called by many names in the state) are also common in Angami cuisine. Hornbill’s kitchen doesn’t dilute the peppers’ intense heat, freely tossing them into dishes and using them to marinate the restaurant’s popular pork ribs. [$-$$]

Vietnamese chef Hana Ho runs the one-woman show at Little Saigon. Try her summer rolls stuffed with chicken and vegetables, or opt for Ho’s own favorite, the hand-made cao lau noodles tossed with thin, pink slices of pork and fresh herbs. It is hard to find good Southeast Asian fare in the capital, but Ho is a vigilant crusader for her country’s dishes: braised pork cooked inside a traditional clay pot, artichoke-based drinks, and one of the few great banh mis in the city. The chef panders to no one, changes her menu briskly with the season’s produce, and has gathered a loyal following among the city’s diners. [$$-$$$]

Overlooking a wide green outdoor space, this cafe serves regional dishes from the rural areas of Bihar, a state in East India. Bihari cuisine is known for rustic, wholesome flavors, as well as grains like millet and flax, spicy chutneys, and charred meats. To start, get a basket of pakoras, fried fritters made with aubergines, potatoes, and onions served with coriander and tomato chutneys. Follow that with a Bihari burger made with onion-coated minced lamb and a fierce garlic chutney. Or try the gol mirch chicken cooked in a fiery pepper curry. The restaurant also has thalis with specialities from the region, featuring chokhas (fish or vegetables cooked to a paste), fried pooris flavored with spinach, signature dalpittis (flattened whole wheat dumplings served with lentils), fried potatoes, raita, and deep-fried chickpea flour snacks called boondis. [$$]

The state of Sikkim, nestled under the Himalayan mountains, boasts a distinctive cuisine, with dishes that merge tribal heritage with Tibetan influence and tastes of immigrants from elsewhere in India. Nimtho takes diners on a journey through the state’s many characteristic foods, from indigenous chiles to soups made with foraged plants to fermented Tibetan breads that keep diners warm during brutal winters. Get the jhol momos, plump pork dumplings in a spiced, soothing broth made from tomatoes, spices, and peanuts in sesame oil. Or try the sisnu ko raas, a soup made from garlic, bone marrow, and indigenous grass that is known for its immune-boosting benefits. The restaurant also does an excellent sukuti (spicy, stringy dried beef popular among tribes in India and Nepal) and tai-pos, bao-like buns stuffed with meat and egg that show off Tibet’s heavy influence on Sikkim. The Sikkimese thali is also excellent. It comes with rice, dal, salads made from regional herbs, and gundruk, a juicy, aromatic, leafy green eaten throughout Northeast India, Nepal, and Bhutan. The restaurant also offers a selection of Sikkim’s rare teas. [$$]

For perfect dosas, fanatics will send you to Malleswaram or old Bangalore, where the favorite South Indian breakfast comes in many varieties. Carnatic Cafe brings those varieties to Delhi in a rustic, comfortable setting, where diners from South India can get a taste of home to start the day. Get the soft and buttery Malleshwaram 18th Cross dosa, which is smeared with a fragrant powder made from coconut, lentils, and red chiles, or go for the plain rava dosa, a simple rendition made with semolina and served with an array of chutneys. For snacks, the cafe does a plate of puddu, deep-fried balls made from rice flour and ghee. To drink, there is coriander-spiced buttermilk and strong South Indian coffee brewed with freshly ground beans in a steel pot. [$-$$]

At Lavaash, acclaimed chef Sabyasachi Gorai — known simply as chef Saby — has created a menu dedicated to the Armenian community in Bengal. Waves of Armenians arrived in East India over many centuries, integrating local ingredients into their cuisine, and Lavaash is an ode to their recipes. Options include a skewer of paneer marinated in tamarind and mint, a Bengali-style baked fish in mustard served inside thin lavash bread, and the must-have khorovats, a traditional Armenian cheese platter comprising many of India’s disappearing cheeses. [$$$$]

Opened in 2016, Blue Tokai coffee was one of the first to bring single-origin coffee from South India to the generally coffee-shy Delhi. The slick cafe, with a minimal, vast, blue space, puts out carefully made cappuccinos, lattes, and the usual roster of iced espresso drinks. Blue Tokai is one of India’s only independent roasters, and its beans are available for purchase or delivery at many places around the city. The cafe serves sandwiches, including one with brie, onion jam, and arugula. There are also cakes, such as coffee cake and dense chocolate cake, which is a favorite among regulars. [$-$$]