Gennaro's is an old red-sauce emporium in Little Italy whose stoop is darkened by the shadow of the ABLA power-plant tower and the crumbling remains of Jane Addams Homes. John Jr. tends bar, pouring tipples of a garnet Chianti (the same house formula his father served in 1959), while Mary Jo works the room like a Southern-fried waitress, peppering her conversation with a well-placed "honey."

Gennaro's has made few concessions to history. A legacy from when the neighborhood used to be dicey, John buzzes you in from behind the bar. The brown plywood wainscoted walls are adorned with taxidermied sport fish (caught by the family) and faded celebrity photos. This is clearly a Sox den, because the only decorative nod to modernity is a wall mounted T-shirt with the Cub's logo spelling out "cork," a silent taunt to the tainted legacy of Sammy Sosa.

Mary Joe and John cook up the recipes of their mother Eleanore under the light of a vintage Leinenkugel's beer clock. Fat sausages nestle in a hill of flame-roasted sweet green peppers and wafer-thin calamari is dusted with the deep-fried kiss of cornmeal and served with wedges of lemon. The house-made pastas, including torpedoes of airy gnocchi awash in a ruddy spicy red sauce are impeccable. Entrees range from $8-$15 and appetizers are priced under $10.

Centerstage Reviewer: Michael Nagrant