If you considered the late East Wind a regular haunt—and if the owners and staff of Lemongrass (some of whom worked at East Wind) recognize you—then this Deep Ellum space can feel warm and welcoming, the kitchen competent enough for praise. Indeed, many East Dallas residents applauded its resurrection under a different name.

The rest of us must contend with servers who may visibly shun our table, choosing instead to catch up at length with their known customers. Past regulars have another critical advantage: they know which dishes to avoid. The rest of us must suffer through commonplace (at best) bowls of soup tasting of pasty white flour, spicy pork cooled by soggy vegetables seemingly—an impression here rather than literal fact—straight from the grocery freezer section. Beef carpaccio, however, is a brighter note, served with shrimp chips and fish sauce.

Veterans order the kitchen’s crêpes piled with herbs and shellfish or the bright and fresh spring rolls, punctured by pungent spice and grounded by the husky note of grilled meat. So there’s a clear understanding of sharp, contrasting, even intense flavors—and how to corral them so they work in subtle unison. Lemongrass just doesn’t care that newcomers find out.

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