Recent Review
As presented originally on Delaware Online by the Wilmington News Journal.
Pomodoro masters real Italian
Discover some of the most authentic Italian in Delaware
Eric Ruth / November 25, 2009
Food critics risk swift foodie wrath when they proclaim a restaurant to be "the best" at anything, whether it's a debate-riven subject like "best barbecue" (Mista B's in Bear), or even a fairly esoteric topic such as "best Peruvian restaurant on the eastbound side of Kirkwood Highway." (Manos Latinas. Sorry, Chicken House fans).
So it's with some fear of evisceration that I submit that the "new"
Pomodoro in Wilmington has the state's best Italian food. (Yes, even better than Olive Garden, "Best of Delaware" voters.)
Claims of Pomodoro's supremacy are surprisingly easy to defend. That's because
Pomodoro is one of just a handful of restaurants in Delaware that actually serves Italian food -- Italian Italian food, that is.
It's not that the 1,897 plate-o-pasta houses in this state don't have decent food, or food that has legitimate links to Italy. It's just that so many of the classic dishes we revere -- from linguine carbonara to veal parmigiana -- have evolved from what Italians typically eat.
Pomodoro's new chef and owner,
Giuseppe Furio, a native of
Mola di Bari, Italy, offers that truer vision of Italy at his cozy Union Street restaurant.
Italian food isn't really about ladled-on sauces and cheesy gooey-ness; it's about dishes like just-charred tentacles of octopus, lounging in a warm olive oil bath kissed with sweet garlic ($15). It's about the light crunch of dense, sweet polenta that's been brought to earth by a porcini mushroom sauce ($12); or long-stemmed baby artichokes, each wrapped in a delicately shaved piece of prosciutto, dressed with sweet-tart basil vinaigretta ($14).
With Furio's longtime friend Mike Recchia capably handling serving duties,
Pomodoro becomes a place where it's best to let the staff guide you toward specials, and where it's possible to suggest that the chef surprise you. On this night, that request brought a perfectly sauced plate of tiny tubettini pasta, blushing deeply with shellfish broth and flecked with fresh mussels and crab meat ($23).
This is certainly a place that favors the seafood-centric creations that stand as Italian food's great accomplishment, whether it's an impossibly delicate, beautifully uncomplicated plate of whole orata fish baked in salt crust, then dressed simply on balsamic and olive oil ($30); or a dish of house-made
Tortellini al Granchio drenched in creamy, lobster-studded mascarpone sauce ($20).
That's not to say non-seafoody expressions aren't also in Furio's vocabulary, as you'll find with a bite of lush, just-tomatoey osso bucco that mixes happily with perfectly al dente mushroom risotto ($28). That rustic, honest goodness also lifts a special of tender sauteed-and-braised rabbit, matched with robust tomato sauce and a dusting of
Pecorino Toscano sheeps-milk cheese.
Some will still yearn for a plain ol' bowl of spaghetti and meatballs after such unmitigated authenticity, and that's fine. It's OK to love the rest, so long as you also take time to taste the best.