Here in America, the culinary boundaries between cultures tend to smear. As chefs mingle, borrow techniques and substitute ingredients, dishes get compromised for convenience, necessity and/or greater flavor, creating everything from spaghetti and meatballs to the Crunchwrap Supreme. These creations fuse together flavors into edible inventions that are the closest thing America has to a national cuisine.

Santa Clara’s appropriately named Blurr Kitchen serves a thoroughly criss-crossed variety of South East Asian food, exemplified by their chicken wings ($6). Served on a metal tray and doused in a habanero chili glaze, the poultry appendages get battered, then deep fried, giving them a crackly, pebbled crust—different from the blistered skin of wok-cooked varieties.

Contrary to the traditional little rice-paper wrapped logs, their summer rolls ($6) came sliced into six squat cylinders, a sushi-esque presentation that showcased the compartmentalized interior of bright pink shrimp, savory pork, rice noodles and fresh herbs like basil and cilantro. The light appetizer came with a frosting-thick peanut sauce enriched by hoisin.

I then ordered a Banh Mi ($7) with the traditional Vietnamese pork sausage, cha. The pliant slices of meat had hints of garlic and fish sauce and a texture that landed between ham and bologna. Served on a crisp baguette, the sandwich also had spicy aioli, cucumbers, jalapenos, onions and pickled strips of daikon and carrot.

The mingling of salty, savory, sweet, spicy, crunchy and soft added further evidence to my theory that the Banh Mi is the most complete sensory experience a sandwich can provide. Also on the tray, there was a bed of steak-cut fries that were crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside and dressed with fresh garlic.

Finally, the main courses came with vegetables and fried rice or buttery chow-mein noodles. Their eggplant had been slow-cooked in a sheet pan with a garlic and sweet sesame sauce. And their green beans were sauteed with garlic and oil until al-dente—which was all they needed.

The beef ($11) came in sweet, thin strips grilled with jalapeno rounds and garlic cloves. And their catfish ($12) was seasoned with thai chilis, soy sauce, garlic, black pepper and a pinch of sugar. The flaky mini-filets had been browned in butter that seeped into the fish’s ripples and brought together the flavors in its layered marinade. Blurr Kitchen defies classification within any culture’s cuisine, but one adjective suffices for all their food: tasty.

Blurr Kitchen 
2374 El Camino Real, Santa Clara.