It’s a suburban restaurant (big tick) in a fairly unlikely spot, beautifully decked out, with all the necessary bits like food, service and grog all spot on.

It is called Arlette’s Kitchen — a name it inherited from the previous owner, along with the physical trappings.

The theme is French Vietnamese which, in some ways, is the best of both worlds. I’m not talking banh-mi and rice paper rolls — this is a little more polished.

The slick bistro food is a combination of straight French — crumbed lamb’s brains, escargot, duck and cognac paté with baguette ($18.90, inset) — and pure Vietnamese (mushroom dumplings, barramundi in Vietnamese broth), or a combination.

Chef Lily Tran has a delicate touch.

The dumplings — mixed exotic mushroom with vegetable consomme ($17.90) — are just right: pastry firm but pliant; the consomme as clear and light as snowmelt; mushrooms, as they should be, the focal point.

And lamb’s brains ($18.90), cooked perfectly with the crumb coating nicely crunchy, but fine. They sit atop a puddle of horseradish cream with fine shards of cheddar and a sprinkling of capers. Lovely.

Barbecue duck pancakes ($18.90 for two) are laden with fresh herbs, a truly Vietnamese touch, and the duck pieces are meat rather than skin, chunky and generous. The hoisin is pared back, letting the meat and herbs shine.

Of the larger dishes we try the barramundi ($34) — wild caught, in its sweet and sour broth (again there’s plenty of fresh herb, plus mushrooms and bean sprouts; the skin is crispy, the rest of it light and soft) — and Berkshire pork belly ($35) on a red-cabbage puree, with braised fennel, broccolini and chilli-caramel sauce.

I have a thing for pork, so perhaps this is biased, but it’s the best dish of the lot — sweet and savoury, crossing Euro and Asian.

Four desserts are offered: crepe suzette, creme brulee, sticky date pudding, and a glass filled with lime curd, fruit, coconut jelly and mango sorbet.

And, of course, cheese.

The drinks list is fairly concise — wines from France, Australia and New Zealand, a few of the whites and reds offered by the glass. No sparkling. It’s a good selection that fits the food style and the suburban surrounds.

We settle for a couple of Bia Ha Noi (Vietnamese lager).

It’s a gorgeous collection of rooms, with a couple of smaller, semi-private spaces and a small courtyard.

Perhaps it was once a corner shop of some sort, but now it is a nicely refurbished cottage — plenty of wood and glass, nooks and crannies. The kitchen is open and provides plenty of bustle.

But what makes Arlette’s Kitchen so inviting is the cheerful, friendly, eager-to-please service: nothing stiff, polished or forced. It’s honest and natural.

The suburban corner restaurant is a dying breed as fast-food and takeaway outlets fill the void, and food precincts horde most of the places with any sort of aspiration. So it’s really nice to see somewhere like Arlette’s Kitchen doing things properly, so succinctly and elegantly, and so wholly suburban.