For those who've dined at Omaha's Vietnamese Asian Restaurant, the new Vietnamese Restaurant in LaVista plows familiar ground.

The former operators of the Omaha spot opened a La Vista version in November that offers a nearly identical menu of Vietnamese stir-fries, egg rolls, vermicelli, soups and sandwiches, and Thai noodle and curry dishes. Co-owner Evie Huynh said she and her mother, cook Sanh Pham, use the same recipes, obtained from a close family friend who launched the original 15 years ago.

Suburban lovers of Vietnamese cuisine and those newly curious about dishes they've seen on food TV will be happy to find the noodle soup pho, the Vietnamese sandwiches known as bánh mì and a fun-to-share Vietnamese version of fajitas at this tucked-away eatery northeast of 84th Street and Giles Road.

The decor's a cute mash-up of diner and Asian style: chrome-edged Formica tables numbered with decals, soft aqua paint, red accents and Vietnamese artwork hung high. There's a mounted TV at the rear, a little vestibule that kindly blocks the wind when the door opens and soft instrumental music in the background.

You don't have to be all that adventurous to enjoy the bánh mì: marinated and grilled meats with pickled vegetables and fresh cilantro on hot French bread swabbed with a bit of mayonnaise. The bread and mayo are, indeed, traditional — as is a little pork or chicken pâté, though not at this restaurant. (That's the French influence on Vietnamese cuisine during France's long colonization and rule of Vietnam.)

The three versions we tried — beef, pork and chicken — were delicious and, at less than $4 each, a steal. The six-inch baguettes were rather phenomenal: soft in the middle and ultra crisp — bubbled almost — on the outside. Huynh wouldn't reveal her local bread supplier but said she and her mom crisp the bread in the oven before serving. The meats were marinated, thinly sliced and nicely grilled. The vegetables were sticks of carrot and daikon radish, briefly and mildly pickled. If you like things spicy, ask for yours with jalapeno or add a dash of Sriracha chili sauce.

On a cold day, you could do worse than a face-sized bowl of pho. The classic beef version here involved thin flags of rare beef (actually more well done by the time they were served), slivered scallion and good rice noodles that held their shape in the hot tan broth. A chicken version was similar and as comforting as any chicken noodle soup. Each was served with a shallow Asian spoon, a pair of neon green chopsticks and a plate piled with cilantro, bean sprouts and lemon wedges. Hoisin, soy and Sriracha chile sauces stood at the ready on each table.

With just the faintest suggestion of cinnamon, ginger and star anise, the broths were meeker than those in phos I've enjoyed elsewhere. And I prefer mine with lime and Asian basil, which has a spicy cinnamon flavor that reinforces the Chinese five-spice that usually sings in the broth. (Huynh said they do use five-spice in the broth and offer Vietnamese basil when they have it, cilantro when they don't).

Still, I found satisfaction in a self-doctored bowl: a bit of hoisin for depth, some Sriracha for heat, torn cilantro leaves for a peppery freshness, a squeeze of lemon for zip, and a handful of crisp, cold bean sprouts for crunch. Sitting there with fragrant fingers and clear sinuses, I was content.

The mix-and-match, suit-yourself appeal of Vietnamese cuisine also shined in a sharable dish that the menu identified as “6 beef course.” It's a make-your-own spring roll combo that struck me as an Asian take on fajitas, with round sheets of rice paper standing in for tortillas.

The platter involves six different preparations of beef, fabulously toasted peanuts, pickled vegetables, bean sprouts, cooked vermicelli noodles and cilantro. It comes with a packet of rice paper wrappers and a bowl of hot water to dip them in.

On our visit, the six courses included flags of grilled beef (some simply seasoned; some spiked with chili pepper; some soaked in a vinegar-based marinade), cubes of garlic-marinated beef, beef wrapped with pork fat, and little ground beef sausages wrapped in la-lot leaves (tart, salty dark-green things reminiscent of pickled grape leaves).

There's some art to the assembly: You have to swirl the rice paper sheets briefly through the hot water to soften them, lay them carefully on your plate without tearing them, add fillings modestly in a neat line near you, and then roll the whole thing away from yourself, tucking in the ends as you go. My first roll was not so pretty, but it was tasty and light, as were all that followed. I loved the many contrasts in those little packages: hot and cold, soft and crisp, chewy and crunchy, cooked and raw, sweet-sour and spicy-savory. And the platter easily served three.

Vietnamese egg rolls were rolled like fat cigars, stuffed with vermicelli and minced chicken, mushroom, onion and carrot and crisply fried: not bad. Better and more unusual, though, were the shrimp and sweet potato tempura appetizers. They looked like some underwater coral formation: two orange bundles of sweet potato sticks with small tail-on shrimp caught in them, served with a pile of iceberg lettuce and cilantro.

You tear up the cilantro and sprinkle it over the bundles, then use the lettuce leaves to pick them up, which adds a burst of coldness and crunch while keeping your fingers clean. They were served with a dunking dish of fish sauce mixed with sugar and water to cut its pungency. They tasted terrific, though you had to be on the lookout for shrimp tails.

“I think we're the only one that carries that,” Huynh said later when I asked about the dish, one of her most popular.

I ran out of stomach and time to sample the intriguing-sounding Bangkok tofu (a red coconut curry), the spiced basil chicken stir-fry and much of the Thai portion of the menu. Two Thai dishes I did try — pad Thai and a hot and spicy lemongrass-shrimp soup — were just so-so.

The soup lacked spice and lemongrass and had an abundance of quartered mushrooms, floating like corks, on top; the shrimp in it were not deveined. The pad Thai had toothsome wide rice noodles, tender chicken and a few wonderfully charred peanuts — but no color, no fire and very little interest in its overly sweet, peach-colored sauce. Huynh said the dishes they bill as Thai are more Thai-inspired than traditional: “It's just our family's take on Thai food.”

Quibble all you want; risk to your wallet here is minimal. Most entrees go for $7. Higher-priced dishes, like our $15.95 six-course beef, tended to be sharable.

Though we often had to flag someone to settle the bill, service was quick on our visits — two quiet lunches and a dinner with only a few other occupied tables. Huynh, the lone server, was prompt and gracious, meeting curiosity with pleasant explanation. She offered helpful pointers on rolling the six-course beef, and we overheard her gently educating others: “No, not blueberries,” she told one couple who asked about the large pearls of chewy tapioca at the bottom of their bubble tea, a sweet beverage that comes in eight flavors and doubles as dessert at Vietnamese Restaurant.

To be sure, the name lacks creativity. But perhaps this eatery doesn't require anything fancier.

In a sea of corporate fast-food options near Brentwood Village, those two words say: Here's a Vietnamese restaurant in La Vista. And that's a happy discovery for suburban foodies on the prowl.

Contact the writer:

444-1069, nichole.aksamit@owh.com