I've always loved a hearty north Indian mutter paneer or a rich and spicy dal makhani, but five years ago I took my first trip to India, and in Bombay, I met my true love. Sitting in a restaurant chosen for its "pure veg" label and its bountiful air conditioning, I saw a large metal plate being delivered to a nearby table. The plate held a golden-brown cone stuffed with something that looked like mashed potatoes and accompanied by two metal ramekins of dipping sauce. I asked the waiter what it was. "Masala dosa, sir" was the response.

I've been looking for dosas in Seattle for... well, somewhat sporadically, but for a very long time. My best bet seemed to be the University District's Jewel of India, which mentioned dosas on its website, but when I visited, none were on the menu. I was beginning to despair when I found my salvation. Not back in Bombay, but not in Seattle either. A place called Bellevue. My wife and I gathered our maps, packed up the car, and set out to find and consume as many dosas as humanly possible in one sitting.

That turned out to be two, one for each of us. The first thing about dosas is that they're big. Bigger than pancakes, bigger than crepes. After the batter—made of rice, millet, or wheat and dal—has fermented overnight (fermentation gives rise to those delicious little pockets of air that make the well-cooked dosa light and crisp), it's poured onto a hot skillet that's been prepped with a little oil, butter, or ghee (clarified butter). Now comes the tricky part, because the dosa batter doesn't spread easily. You need a knowledgeable chef who knows how to use a spoon to draw the batter out in an ever-widening pool of deliciousness. Watching a master cook a dosa is a thing of beauty; doing it yourself can be a sordid, degrading, frustrating culinary travesty.

I stuck with my favorite, a masala dosa ($5.95!), a rice dosa stuffed with spiced potatoes, while my wife opted for the spinach dosa ($7.95), which came packed with fragrant spinach and a liberal dose of comforting paneer. Most of the dosas at Udupi Palace averaged about two feet in length, extending far past the edge of the silver metal (points for authenticity) plates they were served on. The menu also advertised a family dosa, which can be up to six feet long and is served only on weekday nights, when the restaurant isn't as busy.

Both our dosas came with sambar, a spicy lentil and tamarind broth that picked up the slight sourness in the fermented dosa batter, and coconut chutney, which was soothingly sweet if not overly flavorful. We ripped pieces off our dosas, doused them in sambar, scooped up a little chutney, and stuffed them into our mouths. There was little talking once we got started, and we each devoured about half of our dosa before coming up for air. Sambar dripped down the side of my arm; coconut chutney dotted my wife's hand as though it were traditional decoration.

My masala dosa was crispy and airy and buttery; I kept eating long after I was full. The spiced potatoes inside seemed like they'd been cooked for days (a good thing) and the overall combination of flavors delighted me. "You're looking rather pleased with yourself," my wife said, and I grinned. Dosas make me happy. The spinach and cheese in hers had sucked some of the buoyancy out of the dough, leaving the resulting fallen dosa too solid, though still tasty. She made it about halfway through before packing up the rest to eat later. (Note: Reheated dosas are not a good idea.)

As its location just outside Crossroads Mall would suggest, Udupi Palace doesn't boast much ambience—a few photos on the walls, a friendly and attentive wait staff, and a dedication to getting your hot dosa from the kitchen to your table with impressive alacrity. It also doesn't serve the best dosa I've ever had—that honor lies with a little restaurant half a world away. What Udupi Palace does have, however, is the best dosas in all of Seattle. And Bellevue. And that makes me very, very happy.