Duane Park Cafe was always an under-heralded charmer, even something of a well-kept secret, its prime TriBeCa location forcing it to hold ground against a phalanx of the city’s top restaurants. Last year, it was bought out by its general manager and shut down for a re-envisioning. It reopened earlier this year, losing the “Cafe” part of the name and leaving the new owners to tackle the same issue the space has always faced.

The dining room pulls off a somewhat awkward straddle between elegant and casual. There are white tablecloths, but covered with butcher paper. Close observers will notice that each table has a unique set of handsome wooden chairs. The vintage crystal chandelier is elegant; the diorama of bourbon and bullwhip is casual, or something. Duane Park’s clientele seems unsure too: Some are dressed up and others are dressed down.

Its chef, Shawn Knight, did a stint at the old Duane Park Cafe, as well as at the East Village’s short-lived Creole hot spot Natchez. At Duane Park, he doesn’t cook anything as down-home as the wonderful spicy gumbo or po’ boy I remember from Natchez, but he gives a gentle Louisiana touch to much of what he serves. A meaty quail is splayed out and thickly painted with sticky barbecue sauce ($12), a wonderfully brazen complement to the delicate meat. It comes on a succotash-like bed of black-eyed peas and roasted corn kernels accented with crisped, smoky prosciutto. A brown-crusted crab cake ($11) is rosy pink on the inside, and really all crab, not just shreds but some significant chunks too. A good remoulade pools around it. But another starter, a rich tuna tartare ($10), is not at all Southern; with its earthy sesame flavor, it’s the sort of dish that might be at home at any modern restaurant. That’s not really a compliment.

The main courses, which top out modestly at $25, fall in the same wide range, from unimpressive to fantastic. In the latter category is a plate of bacon-wrapped trout ($21), which I developed a craving for as soon as I heard its name, at least a week before I set foot in the restaurant. It’s hard to imagine what could go wrong combining two such estimable ingredients, and indeed the result is even better than I had hoped: The bacon crackles and parts under fork pressure, and the fish within, which is stuffed with herbs, is ridiculously moist, rich, and flavorful even without the bacon’s help. A velvety mustard cream sauce gives an additional dose of tangy luxury.

But an inch-thick pork chop ($21) cut from a Berkshire-bred pig is tough as mutton, though its breed ensures it proves highly flavorful and juicy as well, if you don’t mind taking a firm hand with the knife. The one I tried was also undercooked, its meat scarily still rosy and translucent near the bone, but that was surely a fluke. The brick-red exterior of a chili-crusted salmon filet ($24) is largely cosmetic. The bland farmed fish has little going for it, but its surrounding spring-green pool of fresh, creamy pea purée, dotted with lumps of crab, is lovely.

Leaving room for dessert (each $8) is imperative. A frozen dacquoise, constructed of chewy, nutty meringue and unctuous cream layered together, is flavored with verbena and strawberry, and is one of the best desserts I’ve tasted in a while. You can also get a sugary, home-style slice of pecan pie.

The Southern strategy bodes well for the new Duane Park, if the kitchen can iron out the rather too frequent flaws. The revamp has left it room to maneuver: It could become more elegant, or less elegant, as whim dictates. I hope it finds a direction and sticks to it. With food in this price range, capable of these heights, it could be a charmer that’s not a secret at all.

Duane Park (157 Duane St., between West Broadway and Hudson Street, 212-732-5555).