We named it Pastagasm for a reason. Because every bite should feel like something. Like Italy, like Sunday, like the best thing you've eaten all year.

Ciao,
siamo italiani

Three men at a social gathering, pointing at a colorful sign that says "PASTAGASM," with a smaller sign below indicating no smoking. They are holding champagne glasses and smiling, standing against a red wall.

Nicola, Fabio, and Lorenzo are three Italian guys. Real ones, from Le Marche, the region where every family has a pasta recipe and every Sunday smells like ragù. When they landed in New York, they brought that with them.

They started in NoMad with one mission: pasta the way it's actually made in Italy. No compromises, no shortcuts, no fusion. It worked so well that they expanded to Greenwich Village, and the obsession just kept growing.