Bistro Shakti

142 Second Ave. N., Franklin. 790-6774

Lunch: 11 a.m.-3 p.m. Mon.-Sat. Dinner: 3-8 p.m. Mon.-Thurs., until 9:30 p.m. Fri.-Sat. Special chaat menu 4-7 p.m. Sun.

On a steamy Saturday night in early summer, four stylishly dressed and shoed women sit in a restaurant, whipping clever conversation back and forth, sipping chilled white wine and spearing food off each other’s plates. There is not an unpainted toenail, an un-highlighted blond head or an un-lipsticked mouth among us. But that’s where our resemblance to the four women of Sex and the City ends. Our shoes come from Off-Broadway, and we do our own nails (and, in some cases, our own highlights). With 11 children from 18 months to 13 years old among us, the conversation typically includes child care arrangements, sales at Harris-Teeter, Little League and magnet schools rather than G-spots and plastic surgery. When we debate whether size matters, it is vans vs. SUVs. When we discuss lubricant, it is a discourse on the best slippery substance for removing a 5-year-old’s arm from the vacuum nozzle attachment.

But just before 10 p.m. on this sultry summer night, we had a Sex and the City moment. It happened over the mango soufflé, featuring the delectable, alluringly fragrant fruit from a tree considered sacred in India. Two shimmering, lustrous golden-orange globes lolled seductively on the plate, calling our names with come-hither irresistibility. We made the two into four and spooned into our sweet reward. I let the silky custard rest on my tongue, the erotic sweet-tart flavor undulating in a slow, salacious surge of sensory pleasure. “Oh my God,” I murmured. “This is so good I want to keep it in my mouth forever.” My companions were similarly mesmerized, all making goo-goo eyes at the puddle of mango that remained on the serving plate. Held in the hypnotic trance of after-glow, one woman snaked her hand out from under the table, picked up her plate and licked it! And so it was: Sex and the Suburbs.

The dessert was the climax of our blissful evening at Bistro Shakti, a culinary seduction directed by owner/chef Shashi Dhar, assisted by his charmingly reserved Pakistani waiter Zia. I did not recognize Dhar’s name when he e-mailed me in early March to announce the opening of “a next-generation Indian restaurant.” But there was something about the menu that rang a bell and evoked fond memories of the sophisticated, contemporary East India Club in Brentwood, which had been a favorite haunt of local Indian food cognoscenti until it closed several years ago.

Dhar later confirmed his connection to that restaurant: The East India Club was his concept, and he owned and managed it before taking a break to travel; after that, he spent a couple of years in the corporate world, until the entrepreneurial urge struck him again. This time, however, he came to play with a different point of view and a new set of rules.

“I thought there was a place in the fast-casual sector of the market for Indian food,” he explains, “but keeping in mind the demographics and tastes of Middle Tennessee, it takes a delicate balancing act of keeping the focus on Indian food while exploring new boundaries of an Indian-inspired global cuisine. If we could take out the frills that contribute to higher costs, but still provide quality food and service that stays in people’s minds, I could succeed. I am not competing just with other Indian restaurants; I am competing for dining dollars, so we must have a distinct personality without breaking the bank.”

Situated just off the square in Franklin, Bistro Shakti announces its distinct personality from the sidewalk with a small sign in the front yard. The front porch offers some outdoor seating, a pleasant prospect under the old trees that frame this two-story house. Shakti serves lunch and dinner, with a smaller menu for the former. The casual concept begins at the counter, where customers place their order for carryout or dining in, and continues throughout the restaurant’s welcoming and airy space. At lunch, seating is restricted to the first floor, which like the second has the high ceilings common to older homes, along with polished wood floors, fireplaces and framed tall windows. The walls are a pale, buttery yellow, an ideal, neutral backdrop for the current exhibit of Jane Braddock’s large and colorful abstract oil paintings. Furnishings are contemporary though comfortable. Dinner can be taken upstairs or down; upstairs is slightly more sophisticated, though we were wishing for more intimate lighting and for linens on the bare wood tables.

Unlike many Indian restaurants, where lengthy and even tedious menus can provoke an attack of choice paralysis, the selection at Bistro Shakti is refreshingly short and simple. It covers all the bases of the cuisine, but with intriguing twists. Dhar finds his inspirations not only in his native India, but in other lands, and in the fresh produce now pouring into local markets, which means some off-the-menu, seasonal alterations to his dishes. “I want to put less emphasis on the spice and fat common to Indian restaurants and let the natural flavors of the meat and produce through. I try not to have so much starch, and especially in summer we use lighter sauces.”

If the mango soufflé was the climatic moment of our dinner date with Bistro Shakti, then the pav bhaji, one of six starters at dinner, was the first kiss that sparked our passion. It is Dhar’s interpretation of the Italian classic bruschetta: rounds of oiled and toasted baguette topped not with basil and tomatoes, but with a masala-spiced rough chop of cooked potatoes, carrots, Roma tomatoes and peas. There is a slight kick, enough to ignite but not overwhelm the taste buds. Dhar says he will vary this topping as the mood or the market strikes him. I love to say idli, so we ordered the steamed rice-and-lentil cakes—about the size of hockey pucks—which carry scant flavor themselves but are ideal sops for the accompanying savory lentil soup and sweet coconut-mint chutney. Another intriguing option is the veg samosawich, two pieces of sourdough bread seasoned with spices and fresh herbs, and served with masala-flavored ketchup. Dhar teased us with the notion of a mango-based gazpacho he is considering adding to the list of starters.

Six vegetable dishes are listed as entrées, though we ordered two as sides. The cauliflower maintained a pleasing crunch, with the florets becoming a red-tinged sponge for the tomato broth they were cooked and served in. The eggplant—a recipe Dhar learned from his grandmother—was cooked to buttery tenderness in a tomato-coconut sauce that we quickly dispatched of with the homemade naan.

Chicken, lamb and seafood round out the rest of the entrées, with two to four selections of each. The chicken dish we ordered consisted of cubes of white breast meat in a rich and creamy butter-tomato sauce; the lamb jalfrezi boasted sautéed chunks of dark lamb leg with onions, peppers and a full-bodied tomato-curry sauce. The Goan seafood curry delivered the most dazzle: plump succulent shrimp cozied up to nuggets of sweet, red crawfish, both bobbing about in a decadent coconut-dill cream sauce, which managed to deliver both distinct flavors subtly and simultaneously. All entrées were served in small pewter pots; the side dishes of yellow-and-white basmati rice and tomato-cucumber relish with fresh chopped herbs painted colorful and cheerful plates.

Nashville chefs and restaurateurs, who have limited dining-out options on Sundays—their only day off—should hightail it out to Shakti on Sunday afternoons for Dhar’s chaat menu, an Indian variation on dim sum featuring typical Bombay street and beach snacks. He suggests starting your experience with pani puri, crisp fried semolina flour puffs filled with chilled mint-flavored water.

Specialty (non-alcoholic) drinks and beer are available, but bring your own wine. In true Music City tradition, Dhar is hosting “Shakti Unplugged” music nights, as well as a monthly evening of film and food with Franklin Cinema. A $10 ticket buys admission to a selected Indian film, along with a boxed dinner from Bistro Shakti.

According to Dhar, the word shakti means “power” in an ancient Indian language. Using all the feminine wiles at our disposal, we pleaded with him to bring his restaurant to Nashville. He assured us that he is seriously looking for space, but until then, if you want the Shakti, you have to leave the city for the suburbs.