Is it the hangar-sized room, the conversation-squelching din, or the pumped-up waitstaff in clingy black Ts that makes you wonder for a moment if you’ve stepped out of S.F. and into L.A.? Not to worry. Just dive into a drink list that caters to any fetish”with Belgian ales, Austrian rieslings, and Chinese teas”while you ponder Charles Phan’s now-legendary Vietnamese menu, and you’ll remember why this place has become a hometown favorite. Sceney as it is, it’s ultimately about what’s on the plate. Nearly every table in the place starts off with imperial rolls as crackly as those from the most authentic dive, but without thoughts of “just what’s in this thing, anyway?” nagging at you. Here, humble street-food staples are done up proud with Niman Ranch meats and cult-quality produce. More happiness awaits you in a heap of light and slippery cellophane noodles hiding chunks of Dungeness crab and, for dessert, scorching hot sesame balls in a pow! wham! ginger sauce. (L.T.)