Sicilian-born Vincenzo Betulia grew up amid a large Italian population in Milwaukee, immersed in "the little world of red sauce." He recalls his grandmother was an amazing cook, and he had uncles who made their own cheese. So it was making sauce, wine, and olive oil with a handmade press that must have convinced him about the joy of cooking, no?

"I hated it," he says, laughing about the many hours he spent bottling. "I wanted to go out with my cousins, throwing the football. My dad was insane."

Still, at 14, Betulia entered the restaurant business as a dishwasher and worked relentlessly under Italian chefs. He was so busy, he didn't have his first girlfriend until he was 18. He found his way to Spiggia in Chiciago, where then-owner Paul Bartolotta encouraged him to work at the restaurant to be able to better challenge himself and his teachers at culinary school. After Betulia attended culinary school at Kendall College in Chicago while working in Milwaukee at the same time, Bartolotta was so impressed that he had Betulia open one of his restaurants at the age of 21. When Betulia arrived at Campiello in Naples in 2000, he quickly set about to make his mark.

"When I moved here, I looked at the food they served; it was so busy. I just started to simplify the menu," he says. "When you come in here, I want you to experience what it's like to eat in Italy. I'm not going to make spaghetti and meatballs."

Betulia uses innovation and a little coaching to alter the American view of Italian food. While there are certain items on the menu that are too popular to change, Betulia features a different region of Italy on the menu each month. The offerings are updated twice a year after three days of tasting by the staff. He considers eating the best way to learn about food, so there are monthly food tastings and new waiters must even pass a menu test.

Some may be inclined to fail in order to resample items like rotisserie organic chicken, or pork marinated in brine and blanched with garlic, herbs, and pepper before slowly roasting over central Florida white oak.

The restaurant goes through two cords of wood and 40 pounds of garlic a week during season. The skills Betulia used growing up come in handy, as the restaurant grows herbs and makes its own sauces, pasta, and dough. They even spend two weeks hand curing pancetta, an Italian bacon.

All the food is prepared in an open kitchen, where the smells and sounds spill out into the 350-seat restaurant. Many diners can get a good view of the action generated by three chefs and 40 support staff in the kitchen.

Betulia travels to Italy once a year to hone his skills, and reports observing a big raw food movement there. While he wasn't impressed with the raw shrimp with olive oil, sea salt and lemon rind, he believes in learning new ways to treat an old classic-all part of the opera known as Italian cooking.

We're on stage every night. I yell at my staff-if that's considered singing," he says. "There are nights when I spend more time in the dining room than in the kitchen. You're coming into my house."