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It was about a decade ago that WA’s food truck movement started gaining traction.

We used social media to stalk the movements of new-wave food trucks that weren’t Mr Whippy. We queued at Food Truck Rumble, a festival at the Perth Cultural Centre organised by food blogger Ai-Ling Truong. We got high on the romantic notion that these mobile kitchens were bringing lesser-known dishes and cuisines to the people, one underserviced neighbourhood at a time.

Only that wasn’t always the case. While there were some food trucks breaking new ground – I think here of operators such as Haitian chef Vital Syverin, owner of Soul Provider food truck, who repped Southern American and Caribbean food culture – many were cooking dishes already well established in WA’s dining scene. Frequently, the versions served from these mobile kitchens was no better than what established restaurants were already cooking.

I have no such complaints, however, about the offering at Chaap Junction: a food truck that, since July, has been setting up at Bentley’s Hillview Park to serve chaap and other vegetarian Indian dishes gleaned primarily from the country’s north.

Made from soya bean and wheat, chaap is a mock meat often associated with the teeming metropolis of Delhi where it’s typically served in rich gravy sauces. I’m pretty confident in writing that Chaap Junction’s Pargat Singh – a one-time truck driver and chef who has run restaurants and cafes in regional WA and Victoria – is among the first people in Perth serving chaap. He says he has no interest in preparing chaap typically.

Rather, the native of Jammu and Kashmir in India’s north starts by charring skewers of marinated chaap in his truck’s gas-powered tandoor oven. He then strips off the chaap pieces and stir-fries them in one of five sauces. If you’re a first-timer, staff will likely recommend the yoghurt-marinated malai chaap, a creamy, gently spiced introduction to the world of chaap (all chaaps are $16). At the other end of the flavour spectrum are grunty sauces such as the limey aachaari, a bold, formidable slap of spice that, when combined with the chew of the chaap, ticks the boxes for delicious, dense and meaty: three qualities one doesn’t always find in an entirely plant-based menu.

As well as grilling the chaap, the tandoor also cooks the roti ($3): pliable, bumpy frisbees of wheat-flour pocked with burn marks and brushed with butter. One plate of chaap plus two bits of bread between a couple feels right, plus it also leaves room for some of Singh’s terrific chaat: India’s legendary savoury snacks, typically made with fried doughs.

Or how about snacks such as gol gappa: tiny, hollow globes of semolina flour (house made) and filled with diced potatoes and an invigorating spiced tamarind water ($8 for six) or a sweetened yoghurt ($8.50 for five)? Maybe you know these one-bite flavour miracles as pani puri?

Well-browned fried potato fritters showered with chutneys and red onion hunks (aka the aloo tikki chaat; $9.50) tastes like what might happen if a flavour-obsessed Indian chef hijacked the rosti station at your favourite cafe. Fried lentil fritters soaked in water and yoghurt till fluffy are the basis of the sweet-savoury Dahi Bhalla chaat ($8): a masterclass in ugly-deliciousness whose payload of juicy raisins makes me think of the breakfast cereal, Just Right.

For a dish that’s sweet-sweet, however, time your visit for a Saturday or Sunday where there will likely be a dessert among the weekend specials. Specials such as a crumbly semolina pudding ($7): just sweet enough and given an intriguing herbal lift via cardamom powder.

While Chaap Junction goes big on flavour, it is – like most food truck experiences – low on frills. Delivery and takeaway seem to make up a big part of the business, but those that want to eat there can sit at a handful of fold-out tables and Ikea chairs that get set up on the grass each evening. There’s not a lot of lighting around either, so you’ll need a smartphone torch if you plan to see (or photograph) what you’re eating. But considering the street food origins of what’s on offer – and how crazy delicious everything is – this all feels like part of the experience.

Fittingly, Chaap Junction is a stone’s throw from the Hillview Intercultural Community Centre: a community hub offering a range of services to residents, refugees and migrants. According to Singh, the local City of Canning council has designed Hillview Park to encourage food trucks to set up here and help activate the area.

Based on multiple visits to the park to eat at Chaap Junction, I’d have to say the council’s plan is working. And the current arrangement is a win-win-win for Singh, for the local area and for eaters, not least the North Indians that drive across town for Singh’s food.

For them, Chaap Junction offers a taste of home. For WA, Chaap Junction’s full-flavoured deliciousness hints at the potential of mobile food vendors that, in my humble opinion, remains vastly untapped.

Is it time for another food truck movement?