Rice and Roots is the culmination of a chef’s passion for the flavors of Vietnam.

Being trapped between French and Chinese culinary traditions turned out well for Vietnamese cooking.

“You pick the best from each,” explains Nikki Nguyen of Rice and Roots, motioning her arms as if selecting items from imaginary baskets. The bánh mí relies on a loaf derived from the baguette, while pho borrows from French broths, for example. China brought such fundamentals as bean curd and noodles.

The techniques were adapted into a distinct cuisine that is celebrated at the Monterey restaurant, where the Nguyen’s – Nikki and her husband Ty – abide by authenticity. “Most of it is family recipes,” Nikki Nguyen says. “I don’t do American twists.”

There is no need, when so much can be coaxed from a bowl of plain noodles and fresh vegetables. Bún thit nuóng begins as the culinary equivalent of an orchestra warming up. There is the snap of fresh vegetables and the rumble of grilled pork. An elevated tang from pickled daikon is followed by the welcoming aroma of mint. There is lush green and sheer white.

But from this dissonance, the arrangement begins to make sense. The bittersweet, the earthy funk, the bright herbs, the sour bite all fall into a rhythm.

Nguyen says the vermicelli dishes are some of the most popular at the restaurant. And this despite the general fondness for pho and bánh mí.

Rice and Roots fills the old Epsilon space in downtown Monterey. It didn’t take long for Nguyen to come up with the menu. After the couple sold Mon Chay, their former Vietnamese vegetarian spot in Carmel’s Barnyard, Nguyen began considering a Monterey location. The restaurant opened in April after just a few months to give the interior a facelift.

“You know why?” she says of the quick turnaround. “It was always on my mind. I always wanted to have an authentic Vietnamese restaurant in Monterey.”

For the menu, Nguyen and her husband decided to avoid the unusual. There is no nem chua or bánh ram-ít, although bánh loc Hué – a steamed rice cake found in the old imperial city – did make the list.

Shrimp spring rolls are bright, with just a bitter edge under the herbal blush of mint, lettuce and cucumber. Peanut sauce gives them an earthy soul. Crispy cubes of tofu are mellow pillows under a crackling veneer. A touch of the dipping sauce brings a sweet and sour complement.

There are rice dishes, such as lemongrass chicken, with a marinade so pronounced – sharp, searing, brawny – that the cucumber and lettuce on the side seem all the cooler. And, of course, there is the heft of grilled pork belly whittled by the crisp vegetables and nutty bread of the bánh mí.

“What’s good is bad,” Nguyen says with a laugh regarding pork belly. “The meat has the most moisture. Lean meat has no flavor.”

While the menu was completed in her mind some time before the restaurant opened, Nguyen notes that it remains a work in progress. She expects to add one or two more items by the holidays, emphasizing that they will be authentic in flavor and technique.

Authenticity is a loose fit in culinary terms. The same dish may vary from region to region, family to family. Yet it can be an important concept, particularly for a cuisine that prizes bringing five flavors into harmony.

So Nguyen struggles when guests ask for changes to a dish. There are times when she will urge diners to try something else instead, knowing that the substitution will throw the flavor profile off balance.

But her role is just to suggest. “We will always make it for you,” she points out.

“I don’t want to say I’m a super perfectionist,” Nguyen adds, smiling at the suggestion that a “but” is coming – which it does. “But I try to do the best of my ability.”

People continue to find Rice and Roots, as well as make return visits. Six months after opening, the training has taken hold and the rough edges of any restaurant opening have been smoothed over.

“I’m very happy with where I’m at,” she says. “People are starting to know about us. I want customers to look forward to coming back again.”

RICE AND ROOTS, 422 Tyler St., Monterey. (831) 241-6789, riceandrootsmonterey.com