CurryUp Foods -- specifically, its $8 unlimited chaat buffet -- is an Indian food lover's El Dorado, tucked away in the wilds of Maple Grove. The grocery store is impressive. Its size and its friendliness toward non-Indians put it in the same tier as Minneapolis' Holy Land Grocery & Deli, where heartstoppingly kind ladies in hijabs wear T-shirts reading, "ASK ME FOR HELP."

Just past the 100-pound bags of rice, in the store's far corner, is a full-service restaurant. A few booths line the wall, and some spartan tables and chairs fill out the middle of the space. On the nights when CurryUp hosts chaat and dosa buffets, they set up a long table topped with a mise-en-place in front of a buffet line.

Curry Up's buffets seem to be generally awkward affairs for newcomers, so don't take it personally. The first time we went, we stood around the vestibule awkwardly until someone from the restaurant told us to sit down. The second time, we were obliged to pay upfront and then we sat down. Once seated, the idea of how it all works doesn't translate well. There are a few things that one may take from the steam tables, but the other items are either on or made fresh at the mise table. Simply go up to the cook standing at the table and ask him for whatever you want.

Chaat, for the uninitiated, is Indian street food. Designed to be eaten on the run in one or two bites, chaat dishes pack strong flavors into texture-rich vessels. Typical starchy vehicles include wafers, puffed crackers, sandwiches and flatbreads.

Here's what's on the buffet line: chole bhatura, a brown chickpea curry served with a nicely greasy flatbread; pau bhaaji, a lentil curry; and dessert, which can be either gaajar halwa, a sweet and rich-tasting carrot pudding, or kheer, a cardamom-scented rice pudding.

On the mise table: Bombay sandwiches, which consist of cucumber, tomato and mayonnaise served between slices of crustless white bread; and masala chai, the classic spicy tea. Sugar packets for the tea are either right next to the carafe or by the silverware rack near the back wall.

The rest, you can request from the cook: samosa chaat, about half of a vegetarian samosa, torn open and drizzled with tamarind, fresh chickpeas, mint chutney and raita; a crispy, cilantro-imbued snack mix; pani puri, a puffed-up cracker that one dips in spice water before eating; and sev batata puri, a cracker-based dish featuring the tamarind/mint/raita alliance. Curiously, each visit yielded a different type of cracker for the sev batata puri. One member of our party described the latter type as "Indian food-tasting Cinnamon Toast Crunch." Take that as you will.