Is lamb shank an authentic Italian dish? It appears to be on the menu of just about every pseudo-Italian restaurant I stumble across, regally labelled 'special' amongst the blue-collar pizza and pasta proletariat.

But my lone visit to Italy (an afternoon dash across the border from France) resulted in a tomato and mozzarella tramazini that in retrospect was cast from molten plastic. I was too busy being hopelessly in love with a beautiful woman to notice gastronomic shortcomings at the time, but the tramazini really was dire, and there certainly wasn't a lamb shank being offered as an alternative.

Authentic Italian?

I tried calling a couple of local Italian eateries to investigate. After having calls fielded by a Jan, a Bruce and a Thandiwe, I gave up. A belligerent, bellicose Luigi or Stefano would do for authentic guidance on Italian cuisine, but not the trio above. Sorry.

So if you're scrambling through this at an internet café in Milan, or you're an Italian chef with a suitably Italian name, or you're Roberto Baggio (which would be particularly cool), give me a shout about the lamb shank. I'd genuinely like to know.

The reason for this line of enquiry is a visit to La Campagnola, Italian for 'nice spot for well-off Joburgers with lots of money'. Or at least, that's what I thought it was...

La Campagnola had been passed on to me by way of recommendation with just a little too much smarmy endorsement to really endear itself, which is hardly the restaurant's fault, I suppose… anyway, I've finally given it a go, and to my quiet surprise, I liked it. A lot.

Good cheer, quiet efficiency

La Campagnola is awash with waiters procured from the 'Zimbabwean Book of Gardeners' Names'. Blessing, Promise, Reward, Prosper… a blur of optimistic nouns cast upon unknowing offspring by parents all too literal in their hopes for their mewling progeny. It adds a touch both sad and exotic: sad because I'm Zimbabwean, and north of the border is hardly a melting pot of love and optimism; and exotic, because, well, somebody called Reward is always going to catch your attention.

The upbeat nomenclature of the staff extends, happily, to the service. The restaurant sits in the 4x4 and second-wife belt of Bryanston, which means the staff doubtless have plenty to put up with; it's all done with good cheer and quiet efficiency.

And the staff welcome you on arrival, to the roaring fire around the bar area that is probably the restaurant's star attraction, perfect for launching into a bottle of red wine, but nigh on impossible to escape from when you finally decide to give up the hearth for your table.

'The fare is cosmopolitan, really...'

The wine list is immense, and openly expensive, as most wine lists in Johannesburg tend to be — not nearly as shameless as the prices at March, the school dining room at the Melrose Arch Hotel, perhaps, but expensive nonetheless.

Offsetting that, however, is the scope of local, French and Italian that gathers to make up La Campagnola's vast cellar, which our waiter (Givemore, or Knowledge, or something to that effect) assured me was the biggest in Johannesburg.

Lock me in for the night and I'll investigate, I countered; no dice, sadly. We settled on a couple of bottles of fairly priced 'Work Of Time' from Springfield, up the West Coast, an old favourite that reflects well on La Campagnola's wine list.

The name's Italian, but the fare is cosmopolitan, really, even if there is a solid dose of Italia on offer. The Butternut Soup isn't in that category, but on a chilly night, it's a great opener — except in this case, where it was one of two ordinary selections we had, bland and uninteresting, in need of a little excitement (Excitement, I later discovered, wasn't working that evening, but he would be in the following night.)

The other starters were fabulous: strong, creamy Duck Liver Pâté, with that carefree richness that screams out enjoyment, and couldn't honestly give a damn if cardiac arrest results (which it might well, for it's richer than Bill Gates).

The Bresoulla Platter is a little less offensive to the arteries, raw fillet dressed up as a salad, and reasonably healthy (and tasty) as a result. Good choice, then; not quite as good, though, as the Lamb shank.

Decadent lamb shank

I have to confess to being slightly particular about lamb shank. Feed me mutton disguised as lamb, and I erupt — if it doesn't fall off the bone just by looking at it, then you've done badly.

Paul Kirsten at Bardelli's (another pseudo-Italian affair, albeit one I adore) does my definitive version, but turns out there's stiff competition in deepest Bryanston. Italian or not, La Campagnola's shank is rich, decadent and melt-in-the-mouth. Simply perfect.

Of a more Italian persuasion, pasta, the house special, La Campagnola — a wonderfully rough around the edges construction, and a triumph of flavour over substance.

Selected by celebrity architect Lorin Burgoyne (along with her husband Paul, who does something frightfully uninteresting for a living, my companions for the evening), there's no exotic ingredient here — rather a simple pine nut, rosa tomato, basil and chilli combination that suggests several centuries of rural Italian gastronomic pleasure. Or, in this case, urban Bryanston gastronomic pleasure, for this is simple, unaffected Italian cooking that transcends any boundaries.

Calf's Brain in Cream and Sage is something of a signature at Campagnola, I'm led to believe, but I skipped it (honestly, eating calf's brain is one step away from dancing naked around a tethered goat at midnight); the other main sampled was the second dish that wasn't up to much. Overcook duck, and you have instant biltong — La Campagnola's Canard might have had a decent flavour, but was tough, salty and disappointing.

All told, then, a good night of what may or may not have been Italian, served by people who most certainly weren't. But the food was the great, the wine equally so, and the service full of Promise, Excitement, Delight and Reward. And thank you to all four of them, and their assorted colleagues; good as the food was, it's the ambience and the service that'll have me returning. Ease up on the wine prices though, why don't you?

Review unannounced and paid for in full. Three starters, three main courses, and a couple of bottles of decent red (with tip), R1400, or thereabouts. Expensive, but worth it.

La Campagnola, Shop 9 & 10, Hobart Centre, Cnr. Hobart & Grosvenor Roads, Bryanston. Contact them on +27 11 463 4199. Visit