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Profit is one way to measure success. A state-of-the-art fridge that gloriously displays prosciutto is another. The temperature-controlled sanctum for 40 slabs of cured ham is one of the many mouth-watering attributes that make the latest outpost of Terroni Toronto's numero uno place to chow right now.

Having long outgrown its 60-seat Victoria Street digs, the Italian eatery settled into the historic Adelaide Street Courthouse last month. Think Milanese patina mixed with Manhattan buzz.

Yet the flavour is distinctly Hogtown: arrogance is on the back burner and authenticity remains as preserved as a jar of olives. The menu features Pugliese standbys such as funghi assoluti (baked mushrooms with parmesan atop arugula), daily handmade pastas and 30 thin-crust pizzas (unsliced only) that draw regulars in droves to its three other locations.

Despite this wonderfully simple formula, few would have predicted a modest food shop on Queen Street West with a counter for 20 could expand so effortlessly. To be sure, it has taken co-founder Cosimo Mammoliti 15 years to formulate a restaurant recipe that allows humble and hip to co-exist at any size in any space. Yet Terroni's first move outside Toronto - a Los Angeles branch that opened in November to overwhelmingly positive blog reviews - further confirms that it can even survive fickle and finicky foodies.

Meanwhile, the enoteca at the 57a Adelaide entrance is stocked and styled to perfection. Baskets of produce, imported foodstuffs and bottles of wine are stocked from floor to ceiling, an oversized old clock serves as a reminder that meals come fast and Corriere della Serra newspapers are fanned across a table keep solo patrons occupied.

The main dining room features a custom-built red-light fixture modelled after Fiorano, Ferrari's famous test track. There's also a wall devoted to autostrade signage (with some names altered as inside jokes).

What seems funniest of all, though, is that this Terroni boasts 10,000 square feet and 360 seats and yet lineups have already begun (all locations follow a no-reservations policy).

Mr. Mammoliti had his own reservations at the outset. "My biggest fear was that we'd blow it," he says by phone from

Bari, Italy, where he has been visiting his wife's family, their four kids in tow.

"Adelaide is such a formal room and we wanted to keep it homey. There's nothing worse than one of your favourite hangouts moving into a bigger space and having it lose that feeling."

"We" refers to his all-star design team: architect Ralph Giannone, Sara Parisotto and Hamid Samad of Commute Home, and graphic designer Andrew Di Rosa.

Family members have always been in on the action as well. Father Vince makes sausages weekly, mother Rita bakes biscotti, older brother Fernando's tile business is responsible for the marble mastery, sister Anna runs a Balmoral branch of the restaurant and younger brother Vince can now be found at Adelaide, having overseen Queen Street through its many expansions. Mr. Mammoliti's schoolmate and original partner, Paolo Scoppio, passed away in 1996.

Although the new location makes a multimillion-dollar statement, costs did not ultimately exceed seven figures. "We did it right without blowing our brains out, but this was definitely a big year with Los Angeles as well," Cosimo says.

That Terroni oozes with franchise potential is something that Vince, the younger Mr. Mammoliti, acknowledges but does not entertain. "The only way we've been able to grow is by having the right people," he says from the Uffi cio (the Office), one of Adelaide's private dining rooms with a funky boardroom vibe. "We can't just give it to just anybody, no matter how much they're willing to pay."

Los Angeles materialized, for example, because expatriate nightclub impresario Shereen Arazm began her career as a Terroni server and wanted to export its philosophy. Queen Street manager Max Stefanelli has moved out west to oversee daily operations.

Still, this antithesis of the Olive Garden will not be expanding recklessly, or without all the right ingredients in place. Up next is the transformation of Victoria Street into a humble osteria.

The handsome brothers, who are 40 and 36 years old, not only have the same favourite pizza (the Santo Spirito with capers and anchovies), but, to this day, they also share the same outlook.

"It was groceries, a foosball table, a coffee machine and a bunch of friends," Vince recalls. "We know our bread and butter; we know what is good for us and what makes us who we are."

Incidentally, the name Terroni was cheekily chosen back in 1992; it's a pejorative word meaning "peasants." Note how such salt-of-the-earth guys - prosciutto et al. - are currently sitting on a gold mine.