I Briganti

I have done I Briganti either the best or worst of favours. My dining companion for the evening is Miss V, a woman of exacting standards when it comes to southern Italian food. With a mother from Sicily and a father from Naples, she does not suffer fools, or undercooked pasta, gladly.

"I'm surprised you asked me," she says, eyeing the menu. "You know nobody makes lasagne better than my mother."

I look around the restaurant nervously. For early on a Sunday night, it's reasonably busy. Customers come in and fill the room like a jigsaw puzzle – edges first before drifting into the middle. Black-and-white photos of Naples dot the walls, carafes converted into lights hang from the ceiling and and an enormous wood-fired pizza oven roars at the back.

Like Miss V, I Briganti  wears its southern Italian roots with pride. The laminated menus tell the story of the two "brigante", Carmine Crocco and Michelina De Cesare, Italian fighters who defended the south of Italy from the north, with robberies, assaults and kidnappings high on their resume. I'm beginning to see where Miss V gets her feistiness from.

It's my second visit, after a mid-week trip to sample the pizzas. The ortolano is the standout, with its gooey mozzarella, eggplant, mushrooms, zucchini, parmigiano and basil topping. The classic marinara's garlic pops in the mouth and the quattro formaggi (mozzarella, ricotta, gorgonzola, pecorino and basil) delivers a sharp, salty slap. The puffed, soft crusts have the perfect kind of chewy bite to them. It's pizza you could understand the briganti fighting for. Even better, Tuesday night has a $20 all-you-can-eat pizza deal, or you can order it by the half-metre and metre.

Tonight, we're all about the menu's second half: starters, salads and pasta.

To judge a true southern Italian experience, Miss V recommends starting with the fritto misto all'italiana, a selection of deep-fried croquettes, rice balls, mozzarella and fried dough, and a plate of prosciutto and burrata. The dough balls are little puffs of salty heaven, while the creamy, locally made burrata gets the thumbs up from Miss V.

For mains, she puts the lasagne to the test while I go for eggplant parmigiana. The lasagne comes in a little terracotta dish, and to my surprise and relief, Miss V is impressed with the pork and beef sauce, judging it to be on par with her mother's.

"It's fine," she sniffs, a verdict an untrained observer might interpret as indifference but really means "I risk excommunication from my family if I say how much I like this". The pasta is a little thick for her tastes but I like its soft chewiness.

After 15 minutes, inquiries are made into the eggplant parmigiana's whereabouts. Kidnapped by De Cesare, perhaps? No, they just forgot to put the order in. When it arrives, the eggplant slices are a touch undercooked. It tastes fine, but the eggplant is too firm, lacking any squishy goodness.

It's slim pickings for dessert. After a busy weekend, only the semifreddo remains. Miss V has pulled up the drawbridge but I have never knowingly said no to ice-cream. "Wait until you get to the surprise inside," the waiter says as he delivers the plate.

Confused, I look at Miss V. What Italian delights are hiding within? A stash of stolen gold? She shrugs and we call the waiter back over to explain. He shrugs too, and hurries back to the kitchen to check.

Turns out it's just a solid block of ice-cream, which is never a bad thing, and the chocolate sauce brings back memories of the after-school delights of Ice Magic.

As we head out into the night, Miss V declares she could return and try the pizza. It's a victory, one worthy of the south.

THE LOW-DOWN
THE PICKS Ortolana and quattro formaggi pizzas; fritto misto all'italiana (especially the fried dough); prosciutto e burrata
THE WINE A solid list with a mix of good Italian and Australian wines
THE LOOK The big pizza oven and photos of southern Italy keep you dreaming of the real thing
THE SERVICE Friendly but intermittent