Calabria – that bit of Italy that forms the toe of the well-heeled boot that ends the single leg of the peninsula persona that is Italy. Full of stories of poverty & mafia & mountains & beaches, it awaits, full of expectation & anticipation.

At the end of a long day we fly into Lamezia Terme around tea time, pick up the car (scary – an upgrade; never want an upgrade in Italy; always means larger, newer, more gadgets, more bleeps & blurps & harder to negotiate narrow streets, parked cars & various street furniture, not to mention parking in impossibly tight spaces; this one is a Jeep with 5km on the clock!!). We make our Tom Tom way to the hotel for our first night in Calabria.

Once settled, it’s a quick consult of Google to find a place to eat. Mamma & Papa’s pizzeria sounds good (rated 4.6). We are several km outside any historic centre, in the suburbs, opposite the central railway station. The area does little to excite. It’s an extensive network of ordinary streets lined by low apartment blocks & residential housing with cars heavily squeezed against every kerb. The occasional collection of a few shops interrupts to service the locality.

We arrive after 20 minutes walk. Hmmm. A small, rather tatty exterior has a couple of plastic tables under a cross-timbered covered veranda next door to a row of a dozen or so wheelie bins. A guy plays with a young lad running a plastic gun welcome. Slight hesitation but, ‘hey, we gotta eat’. The place is very basic, very tight, & very empty. The guy from outside follows us in & points to a table.

It’s all up hill from that point. Using the QCR code we make our choices. A large, smiling man appears from the back & we start a friendly banter with no Italian & little English. ‘DrinK? Red wine or red wine?’. ‘Oh, rosso’. I think he saw us naive Brits coming – ‘large or v large?’ We gesture the size of a bottle & he points to bottom shelf of the fridge, a single bottle looking forlorn, ‘local wine; red & white wine’) We agreed. At 10 euros a pop it seems a bargain…. & it is local! The unlabelled bottle arrives at the table. The first suspicion that this is not a vintage bottle comes as he pours – the colour is that of petrol & the initial taste is reminiscent of diluted cough medication. That really never leaves as we empty the bottle as quickly as possible, showering false compliments as we go. Still, its alcohol & it breaks the ice.

The best pizza Diavola then arrives along with a delicious seafood spaghetti – both tasty, fresh, juicy. Like the best the Pizza Cafe can offer with a bit extra – sorry Bruno.

The staff are loud & friendly & Italian. The place quickly fills up & tables start to hum with different languages. A regular flow of locals pop in to collect their takeaways accompanied by laughter & chat at the counter. It is a great first taste of Calabria.

The moral of this story – never judge a book by its cover!!