Gina's Pizza & Pasta Bar

By BRENDA WARD for canvas

The night is dark and wet, and traffic is the only thing happening on Symonds St this Friday night, unless your tastes run to peep shows. So where is number 209, which we've been told is the hottest thing since sliced focaccia?

Gina's Pizza & Pasta Bar is tiny, two old shops pushed together with just a takeout bar counter to receive you.

We hesitate. Surely there's been some mistake. Is this where I had to book to make sure of getting a table? Where the smart young things are flocking to dine? Where you fall over the celebs on your way to the ladies? Where the staff burst into opera singing?

I look apologetically at my companions. Oh, well, guys, one quick pizza and we're on our way. I'm amazed, but they have my booking and we're seated at the very last table available.

Gina's is nothing more than a corridor of tables with a narrow walkway between. No frills, no glamour, no pretence. But the hum and the buzz is unbelievable. The waiters are young and smart and cute. The patrons are 20 and 30-somethings in groups, well-dressed and ready for a night out. People are laughing, talking, gesticulating. Was that a snatch of song?

And from the kitchen there's a whoosh as flames shoot to the ceiling and the chef is tossing something wildly about. It's like stepping into the Tardis and being transported to 1950s Sicily.We pause for breath and order bruschetta aglio. Glasses of Nero D'Avole Sicilia ($7) and Sensi Montepulciano ($6.50) help the time pass pleasantly as we watch the waiters weave through with plates loaded with large, colourful servings.

My Pollo alla Siciliano is piled with a salsa of capsicum and chunky aubergine ($22) and a generous salad on the side. Bruce's Bistecca alla Zingara is jaw-droppingly huge, a great chunk of the tenderest steak at least 6cm high and smothered with a spicy sauce of tomatoes, mozzarella, capers and olives.

We have to ask for a dressing for the salad, but when it comes it's a fun, do-it-yourself experience _ jars of flavoursome red wine vinegar and olive oil you can blend to taste. We mop up the excess with dusty chunks of authentic Italian bread.

The Hawaiian pizzas ($19) are crisp and piled with pineapple and ham, ideal for the small Wards among us. The others' gelatos ($8) are perfect for cleansing the palate, and as for me, I think I have room for the Bigne Ripieni ($9), crusty profiteroles filled with creamy custard. Oh, well, a girl can be wrong.

Cost: $156.50 for bruschetta for four, four main courses, three desserts and three glasses of wine.

Ambience: Buzzy, authentic Italian, bring friends.