Pomodoro in Boston's North End is unpretentious Italian dining at its best. The restaurant works trattoria style: eight tables huddled in a small room with a hard-working waiter busting his ass around them. The wine list is easy--red or white--and though I can't say that the menu was expansive or inspired, I can say that my veal scallopini with cream balsamic and olive risotto was so good I didn't care that the chianti was out of my control.
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