Hindley Street is Adelaide’s most riotous strip, but it becomes a more peaceable thoroughfare as we mooch west over Morphett Road: tidier, quieter, yes with less excitement and also less menace. It moves from adults only to if not quite family, then at least to a parental guidance rating. Pulp Fiction to The Little Mermaid. Okay, Wreck-it Ralph. In the city there’s mild themes about.

The façade is wholly unremarkable. Under the darkening light it could be a chiropractor’s rooms. But it’s a modern Vietnamese eatery, one worthy of subsequent visits for there’s abundant goodness inside.

We’re led to our window table. There’s a Saturday, early in the new year conviviality. Lots of happy, chatty diners. Music’s playing. That I’m unable to recollect it is positive. Afterall, it’s a place for a nosebag, not doing the Nutbush. No harsh fluro lighting so bizarrely beloved of local bistros or beige tables at which I imagine poor adolescents snarling nightly at their trigonometry. A big tick there.

There’s a courtyard round the back but we resisted this as outdoor dining is a pubs-only pursuit and tonight’s dinner demands a more rousing setting.

Peering at the wine list like a bookish expert I cockily suggest a Coonawarra shiraz for my wife Claire. It’s disappointing but my imperial of pale ale is tremendous for beer is generally free of contextual interference or enhancement too. It’s utilitarian like an old-fashioned back pocket, to use an Australian Rules football simile. I’ll try to not further whine about the wine.

The Phonatic has atmospheric décor with exposed brick, wall-mounted bicycle wheels (bikes being central to the Vietnamese lifestyle) and washing machine tubs reengineered as lamps. Unlike some restaurants which want to be modern art museums this still views itself as an eatery but with engaging, industrial flourishes. Nice.

Our entrée was prawn dumplings, and this confirmed for me that dumplings are overrated. I find their universally admired charms mysterious and generally absent; they’re an empty prelude and bound for regret like watching Eurovision for the music. It’s likely just me.

However, my main course was a beef curry with sweet potato and carrot with steamed rice and it was a triumph. Regarding sweet potato: their ticket of admission is based upon charlatan misdirection. A healthy spud? Just give me a spud! Like a suspicious nightclub bouncer, I’m wary and any suggestion of trouble and I’ll heave sweet potatoes out onto the street.

Leaving my psycho-culinary rantings, the curry was flavoursome and offered tremendous gastronomic comfort. It wasn’t punitively hot for I’ll forever believe that food shouldn’t hurt me but simply contribute to my happiness. It did. As also did the accompanying warm baguette.

Claire ordered a vermicelli bun bowl with chicken which almost entirely made its way home for Sunday’s dinner. Not for the first time we (read, I) had allowed our googly eyes to preside foolishly over our innards. But it was excellent end of the weekend fare.

Restaurant meals ideally lob midway between pub nosh and the high (ridiculous) art of massive, blinding plates smeared with painterly dabs of indistinct green, unsuccessfully mimicking sustenance. Phonatic’s a fun and spirited place but the food remains the star and while the staff are welcoming, good of humour and attentive, they don’t hijack the place.

Claire’s eye for kindness noted this sign at the counter, and it provides an additional commendation

Uber eats drivers: if needed please ask for a glass of water or soft drink!

Phonatic is at 171 Hindley Street in Adelaide and is phantastic. We ate at our own expense and so should you!