The heat coming off of New Ming Restaurant chef Hien Nguyen's range is unbearable, you can feel it the moment you step in the door - a wall of heat fighting with the air conditioner for dominance of the dining room. Flames, clearly visible from almost anywhere you sit, leap up from the five-burner wok range and curl around the sides of the pans. Gusts of steam from water poured directly onto the cooktop (to keep it cool enough not to warp the metal) billow up into the air. Hien Nguyen is working with some serious heat here. He holds up his baby-smooth right arm for me. "See? I have no hair on my arm...," he says as he turns back to a wok full of frying dumplings (they were raw 30 seconds ago, and will be crispy and table-ready in another 30).

An order for spinach noodles with vegetables ($7.25) comes across the bar. A ladleful of water goes into a wok, followed by a handful of bright green noodles. Less than half a minute later a heaping plate of vegetables - baby corn, shredded carrot and cabbage, snow peas, broccoli - goes into the steaming pan. Seconds flash by and the vegetables and noodles are scooped out and placed on a tilted rack above. A minute has elapsed. The wok is already cleaned and new ingredients - sesame oil, garlic, oyster sauce, more garlic - hit the pan with an angry hiss. A quick stir and the noodles and veggies are back in the wok. A flurry of ingredients go in too quickly for me to catch. A toss, then another, a blast of flame, and the fragrant, steaming plate is on its way out, less than two minutes from order to table. I'm delighted. I'm a sucker for this sort of cooking, and wish that I could sit and watch all evening.

New Ming Restaurant, which opened in the former Ming's II on Monroe Avenue less than a month ago, could make you seriously question the desire to cook at home. Everything on the extensive but thoughtfully constructed menu is fresh and bursting with the sort of flavor that home cooks, with our own woks and painfully limited firepower, will never achieve. In addition to subtly flavored dishes like the above-mentioned spinach noodles, New Ming features a wide variety of what it bills as "Hong Kong-style noodle dishes" (a carryover from Ming's II, which specialized in noodle-shop cuisine) that show up the advantages of intense heat admirably.

Take the Japanese udon noodles with beef ($7.95). At first bite a very simple dish of thick, hearty noodles stir fried with slices of beef in oyster sauce, the dish grew on me considerably as I ate it. Much of the flavor came not directly from the ingredients or the sauce elements, but from their interaction with the fiery heat of the wok. The fire imparted a welcome smoky savor, and a very pleasant caramelized sweetness to the sauce and the noodles, acting as a counterpoint to the beef itself.

Similarly, the phat thai ($9.95 with shrimp) benefited greatly from its trip through the fire. The noodles were just right - cooked through yet with enough backbone to keep them from collapsing into a congealed heap - and coated with a sour, sweet, and salty sauce that was given depth by the fusion of starch, sugar, and heat. The shrimp in the dish were beautifully done, their backs butterflied and their edges ever-so-slightly browned, releasing a sweetness in addition to the usual briny taste. Finally, Nguyen's basil tomato fried rice ($6.95) showcases fire's flavorful influence in a brilliant way. Built on a solid fried rice base, the addition of quartered tomatoes and basil brought out some surprising taste combinations - a pungent anise flavor from the basil and an eye-opening sour savor from the seared tomato - that cut through the inherent smoke and fat of the dish to balance the flavors very agreeably.

Chef Nguyen demonstrates great mastery of fire, but he's equally at home with the cold dishes and subtle flavors of Vietnamese food, where the palette tends toward light, cool ingredients. All of the iconic Vietnamese dishes are present here: fresh spring rolls, crispy fried pork rolls, pho, and vermicelli salads (also known as bun). There are also dishes and flavors you might not usually encounter, including Vietnamese salads, the aforementioned basil and tomato fried rice, and a wide variety of dishes seasoned with lemongrass, white pepper, and the wondrous alchemy of pungent fish sauce and lime juice.

The fresh spring rolls ($3) were among the best that I've encountered: the rice-based wrapper was pliant without being soggy, offering a satisfying resistance to the teeth, and the rice noodles and vegetables within were the essence of freshness. Accompanied by a hoisin-based sauce dusted with peanuts, this was a nice way to start a summery meal. The other standout Vietnamese appetizer was an unusual variation on ban hoi (grilled meats and vegetables wrapped in lettuce leaves) made with stir-fried hacked bits of tofu and green beans sliced to resemble scallions ($5.95). The crunch of the beans contrasted very nicely with the meaty texture of the tofu. A dressing featuring the fruity and assertive bite of white pepper was a major yet welcome player.

White pepper was also used to good effect in the Vietnamese-style salad with chicken ($6.95), adding a shot of exotic flavor to the cool crunch and slightly astringent bite of shredded green papaya, cabbage, and white radish. Nguyen's barbecued lemongrass pork chop ($6.95) was served with a similarly crisp and savory salad of pickled shredded carrots and white radish that worked very well with the porky taste of the meat and the citrus bite of the lemongrass. 

One measure of a Vietnamese cook is his ability to make an appetizing bowl of bun ($5.95-$6.95). A cold salad of lettuce and vermicelli noodles topped with grilled or fried meat and cold vegetables, bun is among the simplest of dishes, but it allows for so many variations that it's a true bellwether of a chef's talent. Nguyen's bun was excellent. The salad was topped with both lemongrass-grilled pork and a piping hot crispy pork roll (a refined cousin of the Chinese restaurant eggroll) filled with transparent glass noodles, ground pork, shredded carrot, and finely chopped black mushroom. A couple generous spoonfuls of nuoc cham - an all-purpose Vietnamese dressing that relies on the happy marriage of pungent fish sauce with lime juice, rice vinegar, sugar, and a generous shot of crushed hot peppers - served to tie each bite together and added a rich mouth-feel to noodles that might otherwise seem just a bit on the bland side. Offhand, I can't think of a more refreshing meal for a hot summer day. 

New Ming Restaurant

1132 Monroe Ave.

271-7267, newming.net

Sunday-Thursday 11 a.m.-9:30 p.m., Friday-Saturday 11 a.m.-10:30 p.m.