Golgappas are symbolic of the chaat world’s impulsive nature, delivering theatrics, color, and explosive flavor. One golgappa (a plate contains six to eight) consists of a fried hollow ball made from suji (semolina) or atta (whole wheat), punctured on top to allow for fillings of boiled potatoes, chickpeas, and tamarind chutney. To serve, a vendor dips each open, filled ball into a large pot of cold, tangy water infused with spices like hing (aesofitedia) and jeera (cumin) and souring agents like tamarind and lemon. Vaishno Chaat Bhandar’s golgappas are some of the city’s most beloved, so be prepared to stand in line with many locals, students, and others who flock to the stall daily. But worry not, since golgappas are eaten in mere seconds, devoured in one bite (otherwise it will break and fall to the ground), and served in succession after each one is eaten. You can ask anyone to point you to the iconic spot, but the shop is easily identifiable, with a sign listing its name in Hindi up front above green doors and windows. And don’t be deterred by the swarming crowd; just jump in.

Dishes in the chaat family typically run hot and spicy, but dahi bhalla is a cooling member of the group, particularly coveted in the capital’s scorching, endless summers. The fried lentil dumplings (also called vadas in South India) are soaked in water to soften before they’re served in thick, slightly sweetened yogurt. On top you’ll find chutneys like saunth and pudina, and with fresh spices for garnish like cumin, chaat masala, and salt. Natraj is one of the oldest artists of the dish, which is a bit of a Delhi specialty, with dumplings that are light and soft, paired with yogurt that’s a cooling balm to the capital’s chaos. The shop is a small counter stuck in a wall in the teeming lanes of Old Delhi, but it’s hard to miss considering the constant crowds outside at all times.

Shakarkandi, which loosely translates to “sweet potatoes,” is a chaat made from steamed tubers garnished with a chaat masala and drizzled generously with lemon. If you are keen on other mouth-puckering sour flavors from South Asia, try the kamrak, or star apple, served alongside the sweet potato. These fresh dishes can often be found on crowded roadsides and outside metro stations where city residents gather to take breaks, and the stalls are easily identified by the stacks of wonky sweet potatoes sitting in a basket over lumps of coal. Bishan Swaroop Chaat Bhandar makes one of the city’s best shakarkandi chaat outside the Sis Ganj Gurudwara in the old city’s Chandni Chowk.

Old Delhi, the erstwhile capital of the Mugal emperor Shah Jahan, maintains its own specific dialects, customs, and cuisines. Even as other kinds of chaat have leaked into other parts of the city and country, kuliya chaat remains predominantly a specialty in the old city. Specialists hollow out cooked potatoes or sweet potatoes, as well as raw tomatoes and cucumbers, to act as kulhads, or vessels, for boiled chickpeas. The stuffed cups are topped with house spice mixes, pomegranate seeds, and abundant lemon juice. Hira Lal’s shop is more than 100 years old and one of the only shops to concentrate on this lighter, healthier chaat option in the old city. The shop also does a version with seasonal fruits, for which they use a different chaat masala, which is more sour and tangy than their standard spice mix, to bring out the sweetness of the fruit.

This Old Delhi stalwart, a literal hole in the wall on a street corner, is rightfully iconic for a range of crowd-favorite chaat recipes, made from traditional mixes of spices and recipes devised centuries ago. Everything is reliably great, but the specialty is dahi papdi: papdi crackers served with a topping of thick, house-made yogurt, boiled potatoes, and tangy chutneys. It makes a great starter before moving on to other options, with the helpful advice of whichever member of the Jaiswal family is behind the counter; all of them have a preternatural ability to tell customers’ preferences and provide recommendations. Look for the sign for Ashok Chaat in front of the small, colorful space, the steel containers exhibiting various chaat offerings, and the sea of bickering residents who surround the stall at all times of day.

Dilliwalas like to debate if matar kulcha, also called chhole kulche, can be considered chaat. Though the dish could represent a standalone branch of street food (if only for the sheer quantity locals consume), it qualifies in the chaat category through its inclusion in the typical chaat spread at Delhi weddings. The matar consists of chickpeas boiled, spiced to make a mild curry-like dish, and topped with fresh onions, tomatoes, spices, and chopped coriander. Alongside are kulchas, fermented, slightly sour oval-shaped breads. Matar kulchas are served from push carts that can be identified by their large golden brass vessels, which hold the matar. Worthy options are all over the city, but try the stall at Bengali Market in Central Delhi, found in the lane behind the famous Bengali Sweet House. Along with the usual toppings, the small stall adds a condiment of fermented radishes, which adds a nice lift to the rest of the dish’s flavors, and a thin raita that nicely completes the meal.

It seems absurd to recommend a chaat dish that is eaten sitting down, but even the residents of Delhi sometimes need a moment of rest. Triveni, a cafe that operates in an art gallery in central Delhi, serves some of the city’s best palak patta chaat. Leaves of spinach are coated in besan or gram flour, fried into fritters, and topped with yogurt, mint, and tamarind chutneys, chopped onions, and sev (small pieces of spiced crunchy noodle-like snacks made from fried chickpea flour). Palak patta chaat is a classic Delhi favorite, though it hasn’t caught hold as tightly among younger generations, and it could soon begin disappearing. Triveni’s version is a perfect tea-time snack, and it goes especially well with chai.

This small stall used to be a neighborhood secret before Dalchand Kashyap, the shop’s owner, was featured on Netflix’s Street Food: Asia. But no amount of hype has compromised the quality of Mangala’s aloo chaat. Bite-sized potatoes are perfectly fried and tossed in chutneys of pudina and saunth, before they’re drizzled with lemon juice and a house special spice mix. Kashyap’s aloo chaat is always perfectly crispy, garnished with grated radish, beetroots, carrots, and herbs on request. The aloo tikki is equally beloved by locals; the flattened, fried cutlets of potato and lentils come with the same toppings as the aloo chaat. The shop is in a corner of the neighborhood’s bustling market; just look for the large sign for Aggarwal Sweets, a large sweet shop that stands opposite Kashyap’s smaller shop.

The markets in Chittaranjan Park, the Bengali neighborhood of south Delhi, are a glimpse into the varied cuisines of West Bengal and its capital Kolkata. Among the fried cutlets, Calcutta rolls, and biryani at the area’s Market No. 1, you’ll find the Raju Chaat Corner stall serving puchkas, the Bengali version of golgappas. Puchkas consist of crispy, hollow balls made from suji (semolina), stuffed with saunth, potatoes, and chickpeas before they’re dunked in cold, tangy water infused with different spices and souring agents. Some citizens of Kolkata stake a claim that puchka is a subtler, superior version of its North Indian counterpart, owing to the lightness of suji as a fried vessel. That argument could go on and on, but Raju Chaat Corner offers the best argument for the Bengali side, serving puchkas that are always crisp, refreshing, and satisfying.