When visiting India—because you should—if you somehow make it out without eating thali, you didn’t truly visit India. It’s this cultural exploration on a plate that summarizes the country in flavors.
Kerala thali on traditional banana leaf plate.
Each region has its own take on it, including anything from fish and curried vegetables to dal and chapati, which makes it all the more important to try it at every stop along your journey. I, perhaps, went a little overboard, coining the term Thali Tuesday to make sure I had my fill of it. I don’t regret a single bite. 
After becoming a thali connoisseur, I found my favorite style was from the north in the small city of McLeod Ganj and I became a detective trying to find my favorite of my favorite. I narrowed it down and found the two best thalis in town.
To begin, there are two categories (names courtesy of Sophi Beecher): hole-in-the-wall thali and fancy thali. Let us not be frightened tourists about this, though. They both serve different purposes.
Hole-in-the-wall thali is exactly what you envision avoiding at all costs. Some guy stands at the front of his poorly lit stall behind questionable vats of bubbling curries pulling dough with his bare hands—the same ones he uses to accept your money.
He throws used plates into a non-descript barrel and pulls clean ones out of . . . somewhere else? Some of the rice gets touched by the other eaters’ bare hands as they pass the overflowing plate to the new guy squished in the back. 
Sophie enjoying her thali.
The first few times passing by these stalls I was filled with memories of emergency bathroom situations and popping cipro like it’s candy. But then something happened.
It was just the chipati smell I caught first. Fresh, toasted brown bread wafting into the street. Maybe because it’s fresh it’s OK to eat.
But I was still unsure, so another day without thali went by.
Then I started to pick out the subtle spices. Coriander and turmeric. Cumin and ginger. My mouth watered uncontrollably. The pots are definitely steaming—hot is good.
And there are so many people stuffed in there. They all look so happy eating their thali, not like they’re wondering how many hours they have before they need to worry.
Screw it, I’m going in.
And it was as though the heavens opened up and gold lentils rained down into my mouth. From that moment on, I became an addict.
Hole-in-the-wall thali is for: Locals and adventurous travelers. Quick fare for anyone from businessmen to students to monks. Everyone piles in.
Best thali stall: Unmarked, found on Bhagsu Road just past the main square on your left.
Look for this guy and the white tiled exterior. He knows thali, man.
It’s 50 rupees for the whole shebang—rice, two veg, dal, and chapati. His hours are sporadic, so if he’s open don’t miss it. I went twice a week for a month and lived gloriously to tell the tale.
Fancy thali is a different beast entirely. This is the one that gets photo shoots and celebrity status. It has those cute silver bowls separating each of the dishes, making a visual feast as well. And if you’re really unsure, because sometimes hole-in-the-wall can be separated too, check the price. If it’s more than 100 rupees, you’ve found fancy thali.
The basic difference is the presentation and variety. Fancy thali can have many different bowls—curried vegetables, spicy paneer, dal, chickpeas, pickles, salads, and always a dessert. There’s the standard bread and rice and sometimes the ever so peppery and crispy papadams, something like a round chip but better.
It’s also generally found in a slightly more upscale or western restaurant. If you’re not on a shoestring budget, or even if you are, you should splurge and get fancy thali, too.
Fancy thali is for: Wealthier locals and tourists.
Best thali restaurant: Moonpeak. Located on Temple Road near the Buddhist temple. 
It’s 150 rupees of pure vegetarian heaven. Enjoy!
Awkward American Traveler 