Craving experiences beyond a typical dinner out, young people turn to the ‘old way’ of pasta-making | Canada Voices

Tiny Market Co., a snug specialty food shop in Toronto’s Annex neighbourhood, is where the ancient art of handmade pasta meets the city’s contemporary food scene.

On a chilly January evening, four friends have gathered to learn this venerable craft from Erich Mrak and Danielle Soule who, since they opened their cozy store/restaurant in 2021, have quietly built a reputation for making some of the most delicious pasta in the city.

Around a central wooden table that takes up most of the floor space, the couple have laid out the essentials: bowls of Naples-sourced 00 flour – a finely ground Italian flour that is considered to be the gold standard for pasta and pizza dough – and free-range eggs from a farmer about an hour’s drive outside the city.

These simple ingredients, Mrak explains, are the foundation of exceptional pasta. “Pasta is just two ingredients,” says the 30-year-old pastaio (pasta maker) who has been rolling, stretching, braiding and sculpting dough into delicate shapes since 2016. “Because it’s so simple, both ingredients have to be excellent.”

The tools are laid out like an artisan’s arsenal: gnocchi paddles, bench scrapers, long skinny rolling pins and forks. Soule, a 27-year-old actor turned pastaia (she’s learned everything she knows from Mrak in the past two years) tells her students to follow her lead. Flour is dumped onto the table, and they create “wells” to cradle the eggs. The friends whisk, mix and knead, watching as the ingredients transform into dough under their hands.

For these four friends – Alexander Bowie, Aidan Gouveia, Carly Machum and Peter Martin, high-school buddies from Oakville, Ont., who are now in their 20s – the evening is about more than just food. “This is the perfect way to spend a Thursday night,” Bowie says. “It’s creative, relaxing and more fun than hanging out in a bar. Plus, we get to make something from scratch and enjoy it together.”

A decade ago, artisanal pasta, whose roots date back to the fourth century in Italy, seemed on the brink of extinction, overshadowed by the convenience of store-bought products. But a mix of cultural nostalgia, social media and the DIY boom during the pandemic has reversed this trend.

Platforms such as TikTok and YouTube introduced younger audiences to traditional techniques, with viral videos from shows such as Pasta Grannies featuring Italian “nonnas” crafting mouth-watering dishes from scratch.

“Watching them is like food therapy,” says Soule, who finds pasta-making deeply calming, almost meditative. “You get into a rhythm, and suddenly everything else going on in your life just falls away.”

The pandemic was the big turning point. Stuck at home, people turned to hobbies such as sourdough baking, knitting and, yes, pasta-making. Suddenly, crafting fresh pasta wasn’t just a niche skill but a widespread trend.

Food influencers such as the Pasta Queen (Italian-born chef Nadia Caterina Munno, who has more than five million subscribers on Instagram) showcased their creations. And across North America, businesses such as the Pasta Social Club, which organizes dining events, brought strangers together over bowls of flour and eggs. Their motto, “Make ravioli, make friends,” perfectly captures the communal spirit of the craft.

Tiny Market’s pasta-making classes, priced between $70 and $140 depending on the complexity of the session and whether you dine in afterward, are a hit among Gen Z and millennials, who are, by far, their biggest customers.

“For us, these classes are worth the cost,” Bowie, 27, explains. “Unlike our parents who were focused on buying houses at our age, those big-ticket items seem out of reach for many of us. So, we’re investing in something we can savour and enjoy – not just the pasta, but the process and the memory.”

Diego Puddu, director of culinary for Eataly North America, says their pasta classes sell out quickly, especially those focused on Northern and Southern Italian pasta traditions.

Younger generations crave “enriching experiences that go beyond a typical dinner out,” he says. When it comes to food, they are keen to experiment and make dishes the traditional way. “At Eataly, we often say that ‘it’s difficult to be simple.’ This age group understands that. They have keen awareness about the importance of quality ingredients and they appreciate the artistry of handmade pasta.”

Renowned chefs began incorporating live pasta-making stations into their eateries, turning the craft into performance art. Evan Funke, a master pasta maker in Los Angeles whose popular restaurant Funke just received its first Michelin star, has glass-walled pasta rooms at both his eponymous eatery in Hollywood as well as at Felix in Venice Beach. (Felix is owned by Canadian restauranteur Janet Zuccarini but Funke runs it). Others have followed suit, including Misi in New York, SheWolf Pastificio & Bar in Detroit and Occhiolino in Toronto, which opened last December.

Leonardo Baldassarre, owner of Famiglia Baldassarre which sells artisanal pasta to retail customers as well as many of Toronto’s top restaurants (which he preferred not to name), credits cultural nostalgia, the rise of the foodie culture and young people’s desire to do many things “fatto a mano” (by hand) for the renewed interest in pasta made the old-fashioned way.

“My parents’ generation embraced convenience, microwaves, crockpots and prepackaged meals. It was easier and it saved time. But my nonna was up at 4 a.m. making gnocchi and meatballs for Sunday night dinner. It was her job. It was her duty,” says Baldassarre. “The reverence for making things the ‘old way’ – from recipes passed down from generation to generation – skipped a generation, with the baby boomers, but it’s coming back.”

According to global marketing firm Ketchum’s Gen Z and Food report last year, 82 per cent of this demographic enjoys cooking; 73 per cent like experimenting with food; and 70 per cent are eager to follow food trends promoted by influencers. “Pasta’s appeal lies in its simplicity and versatility,” Baldassarre says. “It’s a blank canvas for creativity and it’s comforting. It’s a tactile experience that provides much needed relief in our screen-dominated world.”

Peter Ciuffa, a.k.a. Peter the Pasta Boy, who teaches pasta-making classes at community centres, as team-building exercises at companies, and in private homes throughout Vancouver, agrees. “People want to get off their phones and other devices and experience something that is more human, more real.”

“Rolling out dough, cutting it into delicate shapes and sharing it with family and friends is what my customers tell me they like most about my pasta classes,” says Ciuffa. “It’s not only about the food. It’s about the emotional connections, which are quite profound.”

Tiny Market’s popularity reflects this shift toward authenticity. Not only do they have a booming wholesale and retail pasta business, but their classes have a minimum three-month waiting list. “We wish we could accommodate everyone much more quickly,” Mrak says. “But it’s always heartening to see so much interest in a craft that goes back hundreds of years.”

For Bowie, who is fourth generation Italian-Canadian, the class is deeply personal. “I love my Italian culture, but I’ve also felt some disconnect to it,” he says. “I lost my grandparents when I was very young, and there was pressure to assimilate into Canadian culture. This class bridges that gap. It’s a way for me to reconnect with my heritage.”

The evening class concludes with two courses served by Mrak, a raviolo al uova with a house-made ricotta and Parmigiano Reggiano filling, and fettuccine with the shop’s signature vodka sauce.

As they eat, regular customers pop in to pick up bags of fresh linguine, jars of marinara and basil pesto and other artisanal treats. Soule greets each by name, asking about their kids.

Mrak says customers routinely send photos of the pasta they’ve made at home, inspired by their experience. One couple even got engaged during a session, with Soule and Mrak helping to orchestrate the surprise proposal. “It’s moments like those that remind us why we do this,” Soule says. “This isn’t just about food, it’s about our community. We are first and foremost a neighbourhood spot.”

As the night winds down, the friends linger over their wine, savouring the last bites of pasta and the glow of shared accomplishments. And for Mrak and Soule, that’s the true essence of their craft.

“Pasta is about bringing people together,” Mrak says. “And that will never go out of style.”