[Restaurant Review
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Old Point Loma Meets Old World Cuisine
By Travis Baker
I am walking up to Pomodoro Ristorante Italiano, a quaint Point Loma restaurant, and a small, welcoming fire burns brightly at the doorway in the crisp autumn evening. It beckons me to delve headlong into an evening of revelry, friendship, and food. Nestled just a few blocks away from the harbor, this charming spot has been providing the neighborhood with authentic Italian cuisine for over two years. Much like the Point Loma area itself, Pomodoro styles itself to be on the classic side.
I take a seat on the patio with my friends who have been waiting patiently for my arrival. The patio is a perfect size, not too cramped, not so large where it loses the intimate feeling so many restaurants crave. Approximately eight tables seat a comfortable 30-40 people. Without being stuffy, it maintains an air of quiet dignity. For curiosity’s sake, I peek my head in to the main dining area of the restaurant. Much like the outside patio attests to, the inside is cozy and intimate without feeling confined. Again there are eight or nine tables of varying sizes in order to accommodate your dining desires. Full wine racks and rustic displays of an Italian kitchen adorn the Tuscan colored walls. The sun is setting, and the restaurant glows warmly with auburns, yellows, and oranges.
A quick perusal over the nightly specials and I am torn. Beet Salad with goat cheese? Homemade Gnocchi in pink sauce? Maybe I should go with the Swordfish sautéed with zucchine, tomato and olives in a wine sauce. Conflicted and feeling very hungry, I am elated to see that bread has arrived back outside at our table. Warm and soft, this loaf whispers clues as to what kind of treat we are in for the rest of the meal. A marinara sauce with a modest touch of spice accompanies this tasty hunk of carbohydrates wonderfully and my taste buds sing their harmonious praises.
I glance over the wine list of mostly Italian vintages, which is to be expected, but there is also a surprising amount of California wines, with a smattering of Australian, Argentinean, Portuguese, and New Zealand varietals. I think for a minute about going with the ol’ standby California Cab, but then figure “When in Rome…” so to speak, and opt for a Chianti from Ponte Vecchio. It is labeled as a medium-bodied red, but I find it to be a little on the light side, and rather refreshing. It’s slightly dry with a touch of fruitiness.
Our server comes over to see if we are ready to order and my friend asks her name. “In America I go by Agnes.” She tells us. “What do you go by back home?” My friend asks. “’Agnese’. It’s hard for Americans to pronounce.” I ask her where she’s from and she looks at me slightly confused, glances around the restaurant and says, “Italy.” An Italian server in an Italian restaurant. Weird. My friends laugh as I proceed to stuff my face with more delectable dough to hide my embarrassment. It is at this moment I am saved. The owner happens to be walking by our table and stops to see what the ruckus is.
Fabio Speziali is exactly how you would expect the owner of Pomodoro to be. Affable and considerate, he pulls up a chair at our table to talk food with us. Fortunately for us, not only is Fabio the owner, he is also the head chef; so ‘talking food’ takes on a whole new dimension. In the next five minutes, it is decided that since we can’t come to any resolutions about our meals, our dining fates will be placed in his capable hands. This will inevitably turn out to be one of the more wise choices I have made in recent memory.
After a short wait, our first course arrives: Artichokes. Hot damn! They are cooked hearts in oil and vinegar with bits of bacon and fried basil scattered throughout. Yes that’s right, I said fried basil. And bacon. And it…is…glorious. The crispness of the basil leaves complement the soft artichoke hearts wonderfully, and the bacon adds just a touch of meaty heartiness to this appetizer. Balanced on end with the stem of the artichoke dancing in the evening breeze, these bits of epicurean delight remind me vaguely of Dr. Seuss trees for about twenty seconds, until they are completely devoured by me and my cohorts.
Now, I’ve been to Italy before. I have partaken in Italian meals. One thing I remember is each dish was a little on the dainty side, and as we finish our appetizer I wonder to myself if maybe we shouldn’t have forgone the suggested salads, because this guy is seriously hungry. It is at this moment Agnese’/Agnes and the food runners bring out our main dishes, and all my worries about not getting enough to eat are quickly put to rest.
Three heaping platefuls of food are placed before us as we look at each other in nervous anticipation. Since Fabio ordered for us, we decide we’re going to attack this course family-style. I dig in to the plate nearest me--the Portobello Mushroom Ravioli. Stuffed, and I do mean stuffed, with mushrooms and ricotta cheese, these wonderful slabs of pasta stare up at me from their bed of porcini cream sauce. They call gently to me, and I oblige. Not as rich as I was fearing, I find the ravioli to be dense and hearty. I speculate that if the desire ever struck me, I could finally be a vegetarian without being hungry all the time. The Portobello mushrooms are cooked just right, as is the pasta, which Fabio informs us is made in-house. It is buttery with just enough doughey texture. Unlike any I’ve ever tried to prepare, I ask for the recipe. Fabio laughs and says, “Well, it’s a spoonful of this, a pinch of that…”
Next, I fork over a big ol’ helping of the Braised Lamb Papardelle, and I am instantly surprised by this dish. Expecting it to be almost too heavy, especially after the buttery beauty of my mushrooms, I am delighted to find this dish light and playful. Resting on a bed of wide fettuccine, the lamb is succulent and tender and the light tomato sauce is mild, playing with the natural flavor of the lamb rather than disguising it. I ask Fabio how long he braises it for and he laughs and says, “Until it is ready!” then adds, “Probably at least two to three hours, it depends on the size of the shank.” Complemented with peas and wild mushrooms, it is two to three hours well worth it.
After delighting my taste buds and my rapidly filling belly with the first two dishes, I turn my attention to the piece de resistance- The Pork Ossobuco. This bone-in braised shank is served over a bed of risotto in a port wine sauce with mushrooms, and it just may bring a lesser man to tears over its beauty. I look longingly down at a giant slab of pork resting on the cheese-rich risotto with the thick bone jutting off the plate in defiance of small servings worldwide. Again Fabio tells me they braise the shank until it is ready to fall off the bone. The risotto is done magnificently; the short grain rice is not undercooked nor is it too mushy. They have even put just the right amount of cheese, pairing with the rice instead of overwhelming it. Once again the mushrooms are done just right, maintaining their texture and earthy flavor without tasting raw. I immediately try and explain to my eating companions that this dish is No Good, and it would behoove them to stay as far away from it as possible. It is to no avail. They eye my zealous devouring of this dish suspiciously and each dig in with fervor. It is agreed that the Pork Ossobuco is the stuff of legends.
We eat until we can’t. And then we eat some more. Eventually though, Pomodoro has the best of us and we get the remainders of each of the dishes boxed up. We sit back, sip a little of our Chianti, and wonder how best to roll ourselves out of the restaurant. Agnes /Agnese’ comes back to our table with one last surprise. “This,” she says, “is REAL Italian tiramisu. You not find anywhere in San Diego.” I am beyond full at this point, but I am apparently a sucker for accents, and also apparently an even bigger sucker for tiramisu. I am not to be disappointed. Equally creamy and fluffy, with no overbearing coffee flavor, I wish I could say it is a little slice of the Old World. But it isn’t. It is a rather large slice.
Excuse the pun, but this is really the icing on the proverbial cake. If there were an ‘O’ in ‘Amazing’, Pomodoro would be the ones who put it there. I’m more than a little disappointed that I can’t have every meal here.
Insider Tip: Get here early. This smaller restaurant fills up with happy diners fairly fast. Also, Pomodoro has a small parking lot, and street parking is readily available.
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