Vietnam nom nom: Shrimp rolls and bubble tea.

Just a handful of years ago, Vietnamese pho was a mysterious interloper lurking on the fringes of the Cleveland culinary landscape. To sample this strange beef-and-noodle brew, one had to venture down to Chinatown or clear out to the West Side.

My, how times - and tastes - have changed.

With the opening of Saigon on glitzy East Fourth Street, Vietnamese cooking not only has come to the masses, the masses have come to it. On a recent weekday, diners of all stripes scrambled for alfresco seats along the picturesque urban strip. When the inevitable big bowls of broth began appearing on tables, folks doctored them up with herbs, lime and sprouts as if they had been doing so all their lives. Toggling between chopsticks and soup spoon, gleeful customers slurped their way to bowl's bottom.

Too bad the soup tastes nothing like it does back in Chinatown. The broth in my pho ($9) is murky rather than clear, and it lacks the symphony of exotic aromas that are the soup's heart and soul. Having been submerged in hot broth for way too long, the slender rice noodles have lost their chew. Worse, the thin slices of rare beef that still should be cooking as the bowl arrives are as gray and stiff as flint.

With expectations properly in check, however, Saigon is an absolutely lovely place to dine. Like its sister restaurant, #1 Pho, Saigon shatters our preconceptions of Asian restaurants with its sleek, contemporary design. Ditching the kitsch in favor of sophistication, the room features striking bamboo-pole booth dividers, dramatically up-lit support columns, and red blown-glass pendant lights set against glowing blue rice paper screens. Even the laminate wood flooring is arranged in a decorative pattern.

And like its sibling, this eatery boasts a full liquor license and a drink menu that includes a respectable showing of whites by the glass, sakes by the bottle and beers by the fistful. Asian-inspired martinis like the Zentini, which layers green tea liquor, citrus vodka and orange juice, promise a "meditative" experience. Designated drivers can suck tapioca pearls through a straw in the form of bubble tea.

Pho fans needn't dive headlong into their bowls, what with Saigon's tantalizing roster of starters. A quartet of uber-crispy shrimp spring rolls ($6) are filled not with bait-size crustaceans, but with large, sweet prawns. An appetizer of lettuce-wrapped chicken ($7) provides contrasts of both texture and temperature, with cold, crisp iceberg lettuce cups cradling warm, shredded chicken. Redolent of lemongrass and fish sauce, the chicken is a bright spot in the meal. Wonderful, too, are the Vietnamese crepes ($8), which share little in common with the Frenchified version. Golden from turmeric, possessing a whisper of coconut and crisp-edged all around, these fluffy fold-overs are folded over shrimp, pork and bean sprouts.

Those looking for excitement on a plate may be a tad disappointed here. Much of the food is simple, fresh and satisfying, but also tame, safe and a wee bit redundant. Nearly every dish, appetizer to entrée, is paired with the same carrot, cucumber and radish salad. Used like ketchup, a pungent fish-sauce-based condiment with vinegar, sugar, citrus and chilies imbues dishes with a pleasantly sweet heat. But served as it is with most items, gliding from dish to dish can feel like a lateral as opposed to vertical move. That sauce works brilliantly on any of the bun, or rice vermicelli, entrees, which are more like salads than stir-fries. Piled into a deep bowl atop a tangle of cool noodles is lettuce, sprouts, peanuts and the ever-present cuke-carrot-radish trio. Seven iterations come topped with spring rolls, grilled pork, shrimp or a medley of all three ($9-$12).

That sauce also brightens up any of the "rice dishes," a bed of warm steamed rice capped with flavorful grilled chicken, beef or shrimp ($11-$12). The lengthy menu features a host of stir-fries, mix-and-match affairs that combine any number of meats, veggies and sauces. Best among them is the clay-pot shrimp ($16), good-size specimens tossed in a dark, earthy and garlicky sauce that gives white rice a reason for being.

Lamentably absent from tables is the indispensable assemblage of Vietnamese condiments. Items like fish sauce, sriracha, hoisin and pickled chilies would go a long way toward introducing a dash of verve into the meal.

There have been grumblings of poor service since opening day, but recent visits have demonstrated the same level of professionalism that I have enjoyed for years down the road at #1 Pho.

Saigon Vietnamese Cuisine: 2061 E. Fourth St., 216.344.2020, saigoncleveland.com. Hours: 11 a.m.-10 p.m. Monday-Thursday; 11 a.m.-midnight Friday; 5 p.m.-midnight Saturday; 5-10 p.m. Sunday.