Albanian immigrant Sava Lelcaj was just twenty-three when she started her eponymous sandwich shop in 2007. Despite what she later saw as extortionate rent, she survived. Still, a lot of business watchers thought it was a fluke.

When she moved across the street a few years later into the former Zanzibar space–more than twice as big, with a liquor license–the skeptics came out in force. Zanzibar’s experienced trio of owners, who also own the popular Red Hawk down the street, admitted they had never quite been able to make the location work. Many thought the young Albanian was out of her depth.

Sava’s menu isn’t cutting-edge, but it’s perky and inviting, and she’s kept prices at the upper end of student range. She quickly drew a younger, livelier set than Zanzibar, and, as a bonus, mob-level crowds before any UMS performance. Who would have guessed that what those well-heeled, blue-haired classical music lovers wanted most before the symphony was an affordable meal and a stiff drink?

In December Lelcaj opened her newest venture, a grocery and deli named Babo (Albanian for “papa,” she explains–hers died last June). She’s well aware that once again, skeptics are murmuring: the students upstairs in Sterling 411 Lofts won’t buy high-end groceries; there’s no parking. Her answer to that is a brilliant, self-assured smile. She says her younger brother, Fred, who served as contractor on the project, is already scouting locations for a second Babo.

When she signed the lease for the ground-floor space in the high-rise, she thought Dean & DeLuca, the posh New York gourmet market, would be her model. But Lelcaj learns fast; she quickly caught the word on the street, which is “local.” “We’re trying to stay as local as possible–local cheese makers and winemakers,” she says. “And we’re trying to be a little more inclusive” than other high-end purveyors–which is diplomatic retail-speak for “cheaper.”

Babo’s opening ad campaign is built around a photomontage of a glammed-up Sava holding a chicken, against a backdrop of cornstalks and a junkyard. Detroit salvage and an old barn in Chelsea provided much of the store’s furniture, shelving, and other decorative accents–check out the rustic but clean-lined chairs at the counter fashioned from leftover barn wood.

Managing Babo will be Paul Hannah, who was wine director at Vinology and has worked at Zingerman’s. Wine will be important at Babo, but not quite yet. A Class C liquor license, allowing on-site consumption, is still in transit–Hannah is hoping he’ll be able to serve wine by January but doesn’t guarantee it.

All the other facets of the store are in place, including a full kitchen making hot and cold prepared foods and a coffee bar selling Babo’s own microlots of Guatemalan coffee roasted at Ypsi’s Ugly Mug (see Restaurants, p. 37). There’s cheese, charcuterie, produce, fresh bread, spices, and even a meat counter.

Contrary to the skeptics, Hannah believes students–particularly the older students and medical residents upstairs–will take to premium groceries if properly exposed: “There are a lot of young people in town who haven’t really made food and wine a part of their lives yet.” He welcomes small purchases. “If someone wants just a sliver of Asiago or cheddar, we can give them what they need. If someone wants three slices of bacon for breakfast, we can give it to them.”

Babo, 403 E. Washington, 997-8495. Daily 7 a.m.-10 p.m. baboannarbor.com