Appetite

When scheduling conflicts made it impossible for my husband, Tom, to join me for dinner at the ultra-chic new Naples hotspot Absinthe, I called my friend Christine. She has been living in Paris for the past year, but I caught her on a rare visit home to Naples. Christine ought to have an entourage. In a Botox-ed world, she is a lithe natural beauty with short brown hair and Dutch blue eyes. To make matters worse, she doesn’t much care for material things and spends her time as a journalist improving the world. We met in 2006, when the local NPR affiliate sent her to cover Tom’s writing conference on Sanibel. A famous male writer spent the evening pining audibly for her. He joined a chorus populated by half the men on the island—and a few of
the women.

"Will you and your palate be free this Wednesday night?" I asked her.

"Well, this neighbor of my mom’s wants to take me for dinner, just as friends, but maybe he’d be willing to reschedule."

"I’ll bet he’s twice your age and wants to give you a Jaguar, just as friends," I said. "Leave Grandpa at home, and come to Absinthe with me instead."

Absinthe was custom-built for cool, fresh beauties like Christine, and also, thankfully, for us mortals who simply appreciate great ambiance and delicious cuisine. The dream-child of Armand and Elton Alikaj, the Albanians behind Nektar, whose warm décor corresponds with that peach-toned liquid, Absinthe has been designed with the mystical green liqueur in mind. Its centerpiece is a large, striking lime green bar. The vibe is clean and unpretentious.

I was delighted to find all sorts of Mediterranean delights on the menu, beginning with the chilled cucumber mint yogurt soup ($7).

The soup was as invigorating as we hoped, as were the Mediterranean mussels steeped in garlic-saffron broth ($14), the trio salad with heirloom tomatoes, mozzarella di bufala, avocado, balsamic and olio verde ($12), and the sardines with avocado and roasted garlic ($8).

"You have to mention these delicious, tiny scoops of avocado," Christine advised. "Fresh sardines aren’t easy to come by, either."

It had been quite some time since I had stepped out in the evening without my husband, and I confess, the "Girls’ Night Out" theme caught hold of me.

"Let’s create some mischief," I said. "Let’s have martinis!"

"Great choice," server James Boniello confirmed. "Try the grape-fruit. The juice comes from fruit grown in our bartender’s backyard."

"Ooh," I breathed out after taking my first succulent sip. "Girls’ Night Out is fun."

I had a hunch that we would love the Garganelle with fresh Maine lobster, peas and lobster reduction ($22), and I was right. Christine and I clashed forks as we kept returning to this exceptionally delicious dish.

"How do you feel about whole fish?" I asked. "Tom gets queasy when his dinner stares back at him."

"Oh, please," Christine said. "I’ve lived all over the world, and I’m hard to scare."

The roasted whole branzino with Absinthe basil beurre blanc ($26) was savory and pleasing. I ordered a bevy of sides, including the Israeli couscous, creamy herb and goat cheese polenta, saffron risotto, and sautéed spinach ($6 each). To be honest, most were too bland for my tastes. Christine agreed. But all was forgiven when James brought out two restorative desserts: the homemade yogurt, fresh berries and honey ($7) and the warm flourless chocolate cake ($7).

"You know," I said, "this does not feel Floridian to me, not that there’s anything wrong with Floridian."

"I know just what you mean," Christine said. "Between the open doors, the honey and the yogurt flavors, we could be on the Mediterranean instead of a few blocks from I-75."

The owners came over to introduce themselves and make sure we were enjoying our meal.

"I love your dress," Armand told Christine. "It’s so retro!" We all admired her funky sundress for a moment and then turned our attention back to our European hosts.

"We had a marvelous dinner," I said. "We’re so glad you’ve opened your doors."

"Yes, it took much longer than we expected—eight months just to pull the permits," Elton replied. "But we’re open now, and we’re glad you liked your dinner. Come back to see us again!"

As Christine is set to return to the Land of the Fresh Baguette any day now, it may be a while before we can return for Sisterhood and Martinis: Part Deux. Clearly, I will need to disband the Girl Nation and bring Tom with me. He’s been a very good husband, and thus deserves a night at Absinthe. My guess is that you do, too.

Absinthe, 2355 Vanderbilt Beach Road, Naples; (239) 254-0050. Lunch 11:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. except Sunday,
dinner 5:30 onwards nightly, happy hour 4-7 p.m. nightly. Reservations recommended. Self parking. Credit cards accepted. Wheelchair accessible.

Great Food at 1980s Prices

I have a confession. when we first drove up to Davidson’s: An American Bistro, I thought we had made a mistake. Davidson’s opened its doors on Jan. 19, and when we visited, the décor wasn’t entirely finished. In other words, Tom and I managed to arrive before the interior decorator. A painted arrow along the pavement on one side of the building seemed like a drive-through relic from the building’s days as a bank or a fast food restaurant. My snobbish heart quailed. Yet once we sat down and tasted our first bites, we knew that we were exactly where we needed to be.

Davidson’s is a new endeavor created, owned and run by a man who has long served as a chef at other establishments in the Collier-Lee area: Mike Davidson. He runs the show at Davidson’s, and it’s a show worth catching. If you care more about food than drapes, and wouldn’t mind spending 1980s prices—and who wouldn’t, given the current state of the economy?—then you’ll want to call for a reservation.

Server Eileen Mangan had us sipping glasses of Cart & Brown pinot noir ($9) and Manzanita cabernet sauvignon ($6) moments after we were seated. The wine menu is unpretentious yet satisfying, and tops out at $69 for a 2003 bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape. When we say 1980s prices, we mean 1980s prices.

"I hate the flooring," I whispered to Tom. My snobbish heart can be quite vocal.

"Relax. We’re not here to eat the floor," he replied. Thank goodness for men and their basic horse sense.

Before our stomachs could begin to grumble, we were happily munching on warm garlic rolls and chatting with Eileen, a warm, professional presence who appreciates working for food industry veterans. She finds that everything comes down to good food: "Food is so important and primal in this culture."

"We couldn’t agree more," I said. "We’re going to prove that to you, along with our American citizenship, by ordering an obscene amount of food."

"Great!" she said. "There’s no judgment here."

The food orgy began with the creamy lobster bisque with lump crab and cognac foam ($7), a well-seasoned soup with tasty chunks of meat. We also sampled the chef soup du jour ($5), a veggie-loaded, homemade treat that made us both think of winters in the northeast. Tom orders the beefsteak tomato and mozzarella salad ($8) wherever we go. Davidsons’ was disappointing, perhaps because—along with the drapes—they haven’t yet secured the right tomato supplier. Yet there was no disappointment in the charcuterie platter with cured meats, house-made paté, olives, pickles and toasted baguette ($12). I was especially taken with the creamy, subtle paté.

Tom and I were most impressed by all three of the entrées that we tried: the filet of beef tenderloin center cut, demi-glace, truffle parmesan fries ($21 for 6 ounces/$25 for 8 ounces); the espresso-and-cinnamon charred lamb rack with parsnip potato puree, roasted garlic clove and shallot lamb glaze ($22); and the lobster- and lump crabmeat-crusted sea scallops with coconut-infused jasmine rice, arugula and tomato salad ($21). These inventive, delicious dishes would have felt at home at the finest restaurants in the area. The difference? They would have cost twice as much anywhere else.

The chef himself came out to hand deliver our apple crisp ($6) and crème brûlée ($5), and make sure we were well-pleased with our Davidson’s experience.

"Absolutely," I said. "We’ve been especially delighted by the service. Eileen is terrific!"

"We want to do everything we can to take care of our customers," he said. "Whenever possible we honor special requests—low sodium, low fat, etc. We can even cook gluten-free."

"This is going to sound ridiculous, but have you considered ordering some drapes?" I asked. "Your food is so good, I’d hate for anyone to miss it because of something so silly."

"Bistro curtains! They’re arriving next week," he assured me.

"Don’t feel bad," Tom said. "She’s made me rearrange furniture at midnight." We all shared a good-natured laugh about the decorative sensibilities of women.

Mike and Eileen waved us off into the night, a couple of happy Americans with full stomachs and a few dollars left in our wallets. Viva Davidson’s!