Annam Vietnamese Restaurant

Annam takes Vietnamese cooking and runs it through a French filter, and the room announces the idea before the food does — intricate archways built to echo French architecture, servers pouring fish sauce tableside like it's a sauce course in its own right. That's a lot of stagecraft to back up, and the kitchen backs it up.

The bánh xèo arrive as mini discs, the wafers snapping crisp around shrimp cooked just past sweet. Steamed mussels sit in a citrus broth bright enough that you'll go back for spoonfuls after the shellfish is gone. The lychee and mango mousse cake closes things out with the kind of composure that makes you notice the serving spoons. None of it reads as fusion for its own sake — the French touches sharpen the Vietnamese flavors instead of diluting them.

The intimacy is the other half of the pitch. This is fancy without turning stiff, the kind of dining room where a nice family dinner and a special occasion look the same. Amid a wave of hyped openings nearby, Annam is the one actually worth sitting down for.

A Bib Gourmand and a spot on a national list confirm what the plates already prove.