Under the spreading what-not tree: our table, Prego's courtyard. Photo / Babiche Martens
Herald rating: * * * 1/2
Address: 226 Ponsonby Rd
Ph 376 3095
www.ponsonbyroad.co.nz/websites/prego/
Open 7 days
Cuisine Italian-style
From the menu
Vitello e tonnato (seared tuna, veal, crisp capers, tuna mayo) $19.50
Saltimbocca (chicken scaloppini, prosciutto, bocconcini, lemon parsley cream) $28
Spaghetti Bolognese $20.50
Vegetarian Yep
Wine It's Italian, right?
Dragonfly green, curving hips, a full-throated roar ... alright, a husky whisper.
Bella is retro, 60s, Italian style. All she needs is Audrey Hepburn on the back, in a little black cocktail number, zipping around the Trevi fountain.
But ... she only looks Italian. Bella, my scooter, was
born in China, of American parents.
Same story with so much of what we think of as "Italian food".
These thoughts puttered through my mind as Bella and I putt-putted along Ponsonby Rd on one of our recent balmy evenings. They occupied the space so much that I pulled over and called Jude to suggest we met at Prego.
I'm biased. Me and Prego, it's true amore. Love the atmosphere: it's just about the only place in Auckland that feels like a true bistro, trattoria, cafe-restaurant.
Chatter. Clatter. Bustle. Hustle. Sometimes haphazard service. Maddening when you can't get a table, or you ask the maitre d' and Krishna tells you there's an hour's wait. Kids. Grandparents. Lovers. Arguments. All human life is here, and the food's okay, too.
But one's prejudices should not override one's objectivity. Jude has not been to Prego for more yonks than it's polite to ask a lady about, and Sian, her daughter, has never. Fair road-test, then.
We gathered under the spreading what-not tree, chilling with a glass of the so-sippable Guzzlebreath ... sorry, Gisselbrecht pinot gris, seeing which wannabe celebs were in tonight, what some were wearing and what others had had done.
The menu is derived from one of the great culinary traditions: Italian-American, not true Italian, developed by immigrants, largely from the South and Sicily, in the early 1900s.
Spaghetti and meatballs, which no native Italian has eaten for a century. Pizza with toppings they have never heard of in Napoli. Lotsa meat. Tomaydo sauce. Pasta mains. Lasagna with cheese inna stuffing and onna top.
Old favourites have moved closer to their origins, thanks to Justin Feaver-Gross' careful attentions in the kitchen, but the reference point is still Italian as she is spoke in Noo Joisy rather than Firenze.
So Sian got one of their fabulous pizzas and we changed the toppings - it didn't have the olives that she wanted and the chorizo that I wanted - and I got the venison carpaccio because it sounded fun and Jude got the fish because she liked the risotto. We picked from one another's plates and talked some more.
The specials change every fortnight and the veal thing and the pork dish and what they were doing with chicken all looked tasty, so we got one of each.
We decided against desserts because (a) we were full and (b) they ain't Prego's strongest point.
You don't get deep and meaningful about the food or just about anything here. You, as the Noo Joisy waitresses say, enjoy.
Our opinions? You know what I think of the place, and I wasn't disappointed. Sian thought the food good and the atmosphere great. Jude was "okay" with the food and really enjoyed the buzz.
"You have to admire them for being so consistently good, and that's a rare thing in an Auckland restaurant," she pointed out.
She's right. They've been doing it every afternoon and night for almost 20 years.
Can't say Bella than that.
