THE VIETNAMESE COOKBOOK, by Diana My Tran, Capital Books, Sterling, Va., 2000, 119 pages, $25.

“I thought you were chopping the garlic. Where’s the onion? … What do you mean we don’t have any garlic? Drat. Quick! Turn the oil off, it’s burning. And open the window. Yes, and the door. Ouch! Get me a Band-Aid.”

Or so the “conversation” often goes in our kitchen around 15 minutes into cooking Friday night’s dinner. Avid cooks? You bet. Organized cooks? Ha!

Forever full of good intentions, we start early, try to stay organized, try to stay calm, and always come up short. As the ebb tide grips the wine bottle, things start to flake fast, leaving us with … well, it ain’t always pretty.

Normally it’s edible, but rarely does the finished product represent the tranquil splendor of the cookbook’s pristine pictures. The trouble is, cooking can be complicated. Stray beyond good old-fashioned American grub, or maybe a sojourn into pasta territory, and many of us soon end up in trouble. Go for something Oriental, and preparation can be lengthy, tempers can become short.

And what about those ingredients? Last time I checked, I was all out of cassia and clean out of chestnut starch. My five-spice powder was finished and my ginkho nuts gone missing. Which is at least one of the reasons why it’s a pleasure to find “The Vietnamese Cookbook” by Diana My Tran.

While Chinese cuisine of all stripes has long been popular in this country, and Thai restaurants have recently started sprouting everywhere, little has been seen here of the Vietnamese take on food.

Tran, who immigrated to the U.S. in 1975, and currently works as a dressmaker in Washington, D.C., is helping to rectify that by offering us this slender, hardcover volume of traditional recipes from her homeland, adapted to suit the inventories of America’s supermarkets and the patience of its amateur chefs.

Forlorn food shoppers and cleaver-scarred veterans will be delightfully surprised at setting off from a starting point inhabited by Maine shrimp and white bread, and ending up with something that would elicit muffled murmurs of approval in a paycheck-breaking eatery; all within half an hour (Banh Mi Cuon Tom, or Shrimp Toast Rolls.) We certainly were.

We also tackled the Beef Meatballs. Almost everyone can cook pasta, and with its combination of noodles, beef, onion, garlic and seasoning, Cha Dum could be the result of Italian food and Chinese food catching a Sinatra show and hitting a nightclub afterwards. Spaghetti and meatballs? Try spaghetti in meatballs. Add a dash of oyster sauce and you’re in the Orient.

We rounded our meal out with Sesame Watercress (Rau Sot Mo Hanh), which took about 30 seconds to saute, during which time we prepared the Sweet and Sour Fish Sauce (Nuoc Mam) with which to dress it and into which to dip the shrimp toast rolls. Delicious.

“The Vietnamese Cookbook” may not be the most authentic cookbook you’ll ever find, and true purists, food snobs, or those with the time and money to track down obscure ingredients, may want to look elsewhere to get to the heart of genuine Vietnamese cooking. But for my money, this book is an excellent introduction to an underrepresented cuisine.

And the book lays out flat when opened, so if you do need to panic, you won’t lose your page. Which as every overambitious chef knows, is a real bonus when looking for Band-Aids.

Shrimp Toast Rolls (Banh Mi Cuon Tom)

2 eggs 1 tablespoon oil pinch of salt 30 shrimp, shelled and deveined 2 garlic cloves, minced

1/4 cup onion, minced

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon black pepper

1/2 teaspoon cornstarch 10 slices white bread, crusts trimmed 2 cups olive oil

Garnish: lettuce leaves tomato peel rose

Sweet and Sour Fish Sauce (See below)

Lightly beat eggs and salt together. Divide into four and, using a preheated frying pan, heat oil and make four thin egg sheets.

Puree shrimp, garlic, onion, salt, pepper and cornstarch to a thick paste. Refrigerate 10 minutes.

Using a rolling pin, roll out and flatten each slice of bread. Spread shrimp paste thinly over bread. Cut each egg sheet into four-inch strips. Place sheets on shrimp paste and roll tightly. Deep fry in hot oil until golden brown.

Remove, then drain on paper towels. Slice into bite-sized pieces, garnish and serve. Serves 8-10

Sweet and Sour Fish Sauce

3 garlic cloves 3 tablespoons sugar 2 tablespoons lime or lemon juice

1/2 cup warm water 6 tablespoons fish sauce

1/2 teaspoon ground red chili pepper

Mix all ingredients in a small bowl until the sugar is dissolved.

Beef Meatballs (Cha Dum)

1 cup bean thread noodles 1 1/2 pounds lean ground beef 1 teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon black pepper 1 1/4 teaspoons sugar 1 teaspoon oyster sauce 2 tablespoons flour 3 garlic cloves, minced 1 medium onion, chopped 1 teaspoon oil

Soak noodles in warm water for 5 minutes. Drain and cut into 2-inch lengths. Combine all ingredients in a bowl and knead together. Set aside for 10 minutes. Form 10 meatballs about 2 inches in diameter. Place in a steamer over boiling water and steam for about 10 minutes. Serves 4.

Sesame Watercress (Rau Sot Mo Hanh)

2 pounds watercress or spinach pinch of salt 1 teaspoon olive oil 2 scallions, chopped

1/4 teaspoon salt 2 tablespoons toasted sesame seeds Sweet and Sour Fish Sauce

Wash watercress leaves and discard tough stems. Cut leaves in two. Boil water, add salt and blanche watercress about 1 minute. Rinse in cold water and set aside.

Heat olive oil over medium heat, add scallions and saute for 30 seconds. Remove scallions from heat and set aside. In mixing bowl, toss watercress, scallions, oil, remaining salt and sesame seeds. Keep refrigerated until serving time. Serves 4-6.