Now that we have been back for a couple of weeks from our month-long adventure in India, I have begun to revisit the trip with a little perspective. When we returned, I was overwhelmed with all I had seen, smelled, heard, tasted and experienced. I needed a little space.

With the advantage of a bit of distance, I have been remembering the most vivid moments of the month, including the incredible flavors and tastes the we discovered in the areas we visited, from Bombay, to Kerala, to Rajastan and Gujarat.

Street food was one of the tasting tours that we created for ourselves in the four states that we visited. Each food moment brings tantalizing smells, thrilling views of preparation at stands run by street vendors and anticipation of how a common-sounding dish will be prepared and served in a totally different region. The fourth element of each food moment is the calculated weighing of risk – to the belly.

Debating whether or not to try street food was an ongoing escapade for us. Much different than how my typical decisions about food are made here in the states, (choosing amongst local, organic, Wisconsin or California produce, seasonal or nutrient-rich ingredients), choosing foods in India was about seeking out new flavors and interesting bites and weighing that risk/benefit ratio of the experience.

What we ate was clearly local, very seasonal and positively vegetarian, but unless we were out in the countryside, probably not organic and not always very healthy since much of streets foods are fried. But we had so many lucky experiences. At roadside and sidewalk vendors, we ate samosas and pakora, served with tangy spiced chutneys and sauces. We drank fresh coconuts, cut open and served with a straw, and then handed back the vendor to be opened further so that the tender inner flesh could be scooped out with a piece of the outer skin and slurped up. We warmed ourselves with glass after glass of hot masala chai, served in tiny little glasses in a chilly hilltop getaway in Mt. Abu, Rajastan. We had tall glasses of fresh fruit juices in Kerala, blended from juicy grapes, ripe papaya, pineapple, and oranges. We tasted lentil fritters, cabbage-stuffed kachori and chickpea flour pakora seasoned with chiles and cilantro. We drank delicious glasses of fresh cane juice spiked with ginger and lime in Bombay.

Our favorite street food was found at a little locals' restaurant in Mt. Abu that our drivers took us to for lunch. Part street vendor, part restaurant, we sat at little tables and ordered the regional specialty: dal bati churma, a variation on dal and chapati (flatbread) where the chapati dough is formed into little balls and cooked over a flame, then broken apart and served doused with a wonderfully aromatic lentil curry and accompanied by a dollop of red chile paste on the side for spicing to taste. It was warming, simple and completely delicious.

Tasting street foods was just one way to experience India on the side streets and from a local perspective. In the end, our risks paid off, probably with a combination of good luck, wise advice, and healthy scepticism (or avoidance) of some dubious stands. We ate well, came back with inspiration for new flavors and had satisfied bellies filled with exciting tastes.

Best of all, we experienced the warm and generous nature of so many people we met in India. Watching the shy and expectant faces of street vendor cooks as we broke apart and devoured spicy treats, we were rewarded with broad grins and open encouragement to try just one more little nibble of a different variety.

Well, maybe just one more.