The phrase "Location, location, location!" is all too familiar to real-estate savvy consumers, and Indochine Café, like any smart restaurant, appears to have heeded the same call.

As Chinatown experiences a slow gentrification, small pockets of the neighborhood have vaulted from down-and-out to uber-chic. HASR (an acronym for Highly Allocated Spoiled Rotten) Wine Co., a fine-wines store that wouldn't be out of place in Napa except maybe for the name, is a strange bedfellow to the River of Life Mission shelter a short two blocks away.

Infamous Hotel Street's heart of darkness remains, but perhaps not for long. This summer launched cool city lounge Bar 35, along with hot art-house film venue Cinema Paradise/club Next Door. Chill gallery-club thirtyninehotel, their neighbor, recently celebrated its first anniversary. Across the street, INTO home furnishings boutique continues the trend of an up-to-date-style takeover happening a storefront at a time.

Somehow overlooked in the middle ground is Indochine, despite its location. To its left, local residents savor Cantonese mein at old-time noodle house Mini Garden. On its right, shopping mavens buy the latest interior accessories at INTO. Meanwhile, in-between Indochine attracts a vague clientele, most of whom appear to have stumbled upon the place accidentally and unexpectedly found a decent eatery.

Although it touts fine Vietnamese food, Indochine's menu is sprinkled with a few items that wouldn't have any business in a more conventional Vietnamese restaurant. French fries ($4.95)? Korean kalbi ($11.95) served with kim chee is there, too. And so is a tender 12-ounce charcoal-broiled steak ($11.95) tasting slightly of oyster sauce that comes on a sizzling platter — the sort you find at Korean restaurants — with slices of button mushrooms and Maui onion.

Aside from the menu, it's obvious that Indochine does not want to be your average mom-and-pop Vietnamese eatery. A peek inside reveals a startling interior bright with colors instead of fluorescent light glare. A blue ceiling caps orange walls that are a backdrop to comfy red booths upholstered in a whimsical mod pattern.

On the walls are five television screens and high-tech speakers playing, with clear surround sound, Vietnamese soap operas, French karaoke tunes or CNN. Some might find the scene way too bold, but muted contrasts of bamboo-topped tables and wood accents help tone down the setting, making it inviting in that odd, contemporary Asian way.

Owner Daniel Pham and his brother, an interior designer, did the work themselves. Pham, who operates the restaurant with his wife Pauline, explained that their goal is to be a pupu-centric place for office workers. The end product, despite its intent, is misdirected since they serve mostly Vietnamese fare. My guess is that diners will probably look past the inconsistencies and just go for the familiar — the Vietnamese dishes.

They wouldn't be off the mark in choosing them because it is these particular items that seem to be the most rewarding in price. I ordered a small beef pho for $5.50 big enough to make me wonder just how big the large ($6.50) is. (Chicken pho is the same price.) Its broth was intensely meaty but balanced and not too sweet. It was well stocked with onion, thinly sliced lean beef, beef balls and a few pieces of tendon in addition to lots of noodles. With it came a plate of fresh sawtooth coriander, basil, bean sprouts and jalapeno (I used nearly all of it except there was so much in my bowl to begin with that not all the bean sprouts would fit).

Summer rolls ($4.95) tasted fresh with al-dente rice paper, not as if they had been prepared too far in advance and left to sit. A French sandwich ($4.95) was served on a crusty baguette that was nice and soft on the inside. Filled with pork roll slices and a pâté, it had a mild liver taste that added a dimension of richness to the ordinary.

I appreciated that food arrived quickly with wisps of steam floating above it. The longest that I waited was for creamy smoothies ($3.75) dolloped with whipped cream in tropical fruit flavors such as longan (dragon's eye) and jackfruit. They were worth the anticipation and are sufficiently satisfying that I would stop in just for one of these.

So far, Indochine's eclecticism hasn't drawn crowds of the immigrant set nor style-conscious trendsetters. The restaurant is working on accepting credit cards and serving liquor. The printed menu also needs improvement because it comes in two parts, one of which consists of photos without prices. But the business faces an uncertain future at this rate, since many components to running a restaurant aren't quite in place. These issues may deter customers, in addition to the smell of cigarette smoke lingering in the air.

Indochine's food struck me as being tasty enough, but the dining experience here is like a recipe where you thought you could omit or substitute one or a few ingredients, only to discover that the improvisation resulted in a confusing end product. Vietnamese, fusion or Asian small plates — it would probably have been smarter and simpler to stick to a single formula and do it well.

Reach Helen Wu at hwu@honoluluadvertiser.com.