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There is always an element of the opera about going out for dinner. The stage is set, the orchestra is in the pit, the singers know the lyrics, and it’s curtains up, every night. We diners are not just the audience; we’re part of the show.

That’s how it feels walking into Bar Infinita in upper north shore Gordon. It’s all a-bustle with cocktails being shaken behind the long bar, puffy breads emerging from a picture-book wood-fired oven, and tiramisu being ladled from trays.

The locals are ramming the joint inside and out on the street, and the two couples seated either side of my table are thrilled that they don’t have to drive half an hour to have a fun night out anymore. If they were scoring out of 20, the place would get three hats just for being there.

It’s for people like my nice table-neighbours that Taran and Elizabeth Tamana opened Bar Infinita. Locals themselves, they knew what the region was missing – a wood-fired Italian joint with a bit of oomph to it.

With that in mind, they worked with Giant Design on the interiors, and talked chef Francesco Iervolino into coming on board, which now looks like a bit of a coup. Not only did he work at top Italian restaurant Ormeggio at The Spit, but also the fire-driven kitchen of Firedoor. The combination of those skills is fast turning Bar Infinita into a destination diner.

If the locals were scoring out of 20, the place would get three hats just for being there.

I’ll be back just for that pizza bianco with rosemary oil ($9) from the oven, powered by ironbark from the Blue Mountains. Based on Neapolitan panuozzo, it’s crusty, speckled and soft-hearted; good to tear into pieces and pinch around furls of San Daniele prosciutto ($14). These star performers are perfectly cast with a good-value glass of the citrussy Criante C22 Catarratto from Sicily ($14), from a lively list put together by Fun Wines’ Giorgio de Maria.

Best bit, design-wise, is the signage above the bar, the red-on-white font listing Small Plates and Classic Cocktails. It’s an open invitation to cover the table with LP’s mortadella ($8), super-crunchy, cheesy mushroom arancini ($14) and lovely crisp pillows of gnocco fritto draped with prosciutto ($9 each).

And it does the heart good to see $18 negronis and $17 whisky sours coming from a pro like Aaron Dean behind the bar.

Zoom in on the detail, and you’ll find hooks beneath the bar for bags and umbrellas; a nice touch. The only non-intuitive element is that the small service counter faces inwards, so that whoever is in charge of greeting newcomers has their back to the door.

Pasta is a big order, and it’s nicely done. House-made rigatoni amatriciana ($28) is cooked al dente, with lardons of guanciale (cured pork jowl) and enough tomato sauce to coat rather than drown.

Another pasta of spaghetti vongole ($36) is buttery and satisfying, spiked with warrigal greens.

Mains rise to $145 for a 1kg Fiorentina T-bone to share; otherwise a long, thin 200g Little Joe beef flank ($39) is good value, charred and crusty outside, with a real barbecue vibe – how do they do that while keeping the inside pinkly tender? Aha, in the wood-fired oven. Good call. Accompaniments get a bit cheffy, with dollops of mushroom puree, scorchy caramelised onion, and a rich, velvety jus.

But then, if they didn’t try so hard, you wouldn’t get dessert in the shape of a sunny yellow Amalfi lemon ($16), would you? It’s a delight, from the crack of the white chocolate “rind” to the tangy lemon mousse and heart of lemon jam.

Both kitchen and serving staff are still under pressure, with some dishes coming fast, others slow. (If your order is stuck in a jam, ask the newly arrived can-do restaurant manager, Fernando Vaca Castro.) But the foundations are in place.

There’s energy and intention, and enough craft in the cocktails, the pasta, the fire-driven cooking and the baking, to suggest Bar Infinita could be in for a long run.