Somewhere on the east coast of the United States, a small handful of years before the turn of the 20th century, a young boy found himself enamored with the institution of pasta.
My fascination with pasta started early. I was the kid boiling pasta shapes and tossing them with jarred sauces or mac & cheese packets. Every mom who had the pleasure of feeding me quickly learned that I could put away a bowl of pasta with ease, grace, and fervor. At restaurants, my eyes always went straight to the pasta dishes on the menu. Without fail, I’d order one—surprising no one.
This obsession stayed with me through my teen years, even as my palate expanded to embrace a wide range of cuisines far past what one would expect of a teen. Pasta, though, held me captive. I became known for devouring the pasta others made, but cooking it? That was a private ritual, something I did solely for myself. When my second love entered the picture: music, it would set me down quite a different path.
Music wasn’t just a creative outlet; it unlocked an organizational passion in me. I’d always been social, but music taught me how deeply it could bring people together and build community. That’s when I realized pasta had never been my first love. My first love was—and always has been—community.
Years into my adult life, as I became known for organizing music events, I found myself at a crossroads. Should I keep pursuing music or pivot to something else? One cool summer night in 2018, in Boston, I decided to pivot—to food—for music had become far too sacred.
That decision changed everything. I discovered that food brings people together in ways music never could. While music can be divisive and cliquey, food is often far more welcoming, encouraging, and inviting. Through food, I achieved the community-building I had always sought through music.
From my restaurant beginnings to my pop-up era, I shared meals with people in Boston, New York, D.C., Maryland, Virginia, L.A., and Philly. It was during those years that I became known as Pasta Zaddy. A guy in Boston who became a private chef best known for slinging noods by any means necessary—in his house and everybody else's.
Today, Pasta Zaddy’s Club combines all my loves—food, music, and art—into one vibrant community. I used to tell people at my pop-ups—
"At some point, you realize it's not about the pasta."