Luca Vinci: The Pastaio Behind Pasta Pooks
Luca Vinci learned to make pasta by watching the women in his family, and later on YouTube, late at night, when no one was watching. Pasta Pooks opened even though the bank wouldn’t lend him so much as a tiny sum. A few years later, the Little Italy spot has become one of the most sought-after tables in Montreal, and people come from far away to taste Luca’s pasta (the best in town!). This is a portrait of a quiet pastaio whose hands hold more history than he lets on.
In the Vinci family, nobody ever made ravioli for four. At Luca’s nonna’s house, they made them for whole tables of people, and the kids pitched in. It was about numbers, patience, and a kind of love that isn’t spoken but kneaded. Luca grew up close to that kitchen. He was never one to take up much space. He watched.
The day Pasta Pooks opened its little fresh pasta counter, in the former home of Dinette Triple Crown, a line formed along the walls. It never really went away. A few months later, Air Canada named it one of the best new restaurants in the country. People cross the city, and then the border, to sit down in front of his ravioli. Every week, visitors from Philadelphia walk through the door because someone back home told them they absolutely had to go see “those guys.”
One bite is all it takes to understand. What comes out of this kitchen has the precision of something repeated a thousand times, and the tenderness of something received before you even had words for it.
From Apprentice to Master
Luca Vinci grew up in Quebec City. His mother, Marisa, is a hairdresser. While she worked, his nonna looked after him, and it was at her house that he learned, without knowing it, what matters most: how to welcome people, how to feed them, how to make dinner last. He is Sardinian on his mother’s side and Wendat on his father’s. In his work, Luca Vinci strives to preserve traditions and honour authentic flavours, a fitting tribute to his roots.
Back then, Sardinia mostly tasted of salt. The family went for the beach. It was only later that it took on its full depth, thanks to his aunt Anna Maria, who spent years tracing the threads of their Sardinian heritage, recipe by recipe, village by village. Luca calls her his “food dictionary.” It’s an affectionate nickname, but it says it all: when memory falters, she’s the one you open.
As a child, Luca Vinci didn’t dream of cooking. He wanted to dig up dinosaurs, then drive rally cars. In Quebec City, he sold ravioli he made with his mother at a market. Nobody saw it as his destiny. Probably not even him. Later, he moved to Montreal, a city that had been calling him for a long time, never suspecting that his famous ravioli would become one of the city’s signature dishes.
Out of Necessity
In Montreal, he works at a nightclub right next to the one where Victor Petrenko works — a name you probably know! His longtime partner in crime, with whom he makes one hell of a duo. Two loners who bonded over a video game console and an Eagles game, and who have been inseparable ever since. Then the pandemic turned off the lights in the clubs, and Luca turned the kitchen lights back on.
He didn’t know much, and he knew it. “We learned everything on YouTube, from books. We’d message people we didn’t know on Instagram, like Leandro Baldassarre, hoping they’d write back,” he says. His aunt Anna Maria cooked with him, correcting a gesture here, adjusting a texture there. He learned an enormous amount from her. Anna Maria travelled to Sardinia to discover its traditions, study ancestral methods, and immerse herself in Sardinian flavours. When she came back, she passed it all on to Luca.
Meanwhile, Victor filmed Luca shaping his pasta and posted the videos on Instagram. Little by little, the Pasta Pooks phenomenon came to life. The messages poured in: people wanted to buy Luca’s pasta.
It started with pop-ups, nights when everyone went home happy, except the bank account. “Your margins make no sense, but you want to keep it accessible. You’ve got impostor syndrome, you don’t know how people are going to react, so you lower your own value. You end up working for five or ten bucks an hour.”
Luca came to understand one thing: to be taken seriously, he had to go through real kitchens. “I loved this project too much. I thought it could go somewhere. But I needed experience to be credible.” He joined Impasto, then Nora Gray, then Mano Cornuto. By day, he learned from others. The rest of the time, he carried his own dream on his back. He ran on passion.
Two full-time jobs, and still not enough to pay the bills. There’s a moment, familiar to anyone who has ever tried to build something, when you feel the project slipping through your fingers. “We could see the dream fading, slowly,” he admits.
From Instagram to Clark Street
It was Victor’s father who found the space. He spotted a well-located, well-equipped spot with reasonable rent. “Go take a look.” They went, they fell in love, and they were ready to jump in. Yet the bank refused to lend them $2,000 to open Pasta Pooks. But the guys didn’t give up, and they managed to scrape together just enough money to open a small counter. Nothing more.
They compared their restaurant to a used Japanese car that you upgrade piece by piece, as your budget allows. Luca saw it as an opportunity rather than a limitation. “It was small, it was easy to manage. It was easy to stay humble. People were patient with us. It was nice not to have everything all at once.” At the back of the space, a secret room had the whole city talking. While it was still under construction, strangers were already writing to book it.
Luca Vinci never imagined tablecloths on the tables, a wine list curated by their partner and sommelier Martin Pariseau, or importers taking them under their wing.
Today, their restaurant is much more than a little counter. They’ve managed to build something incredible out of practically nothing.
The Pooks and Coach Vic Duo
Before the opening, Victor had warned him: “You’re learning to make pasta, but you’re going to have to learn to be a boss.” That may be Luca’s biggest project yet. For someone lowkey, running a brigade means accepting that you have to take up space. Today, two apprentice pastai work alongside him, at a level that makes him proud.
He speaks of his team with almost surprised gratitude. “We didn’t expect the support from Montrealers. But we also didn’t expect to find such incredible people to work with us. People who believe in us, who are patient with us.”
And then there’s Victor, the extrovert, the one who works the dining room while Luca holds down the kitchen. Twenty years of friendship, and now side by side every single day. “We’re both loners. Without the restaurant, we’d each be at home playing video games,” he admits with a laugh.
Together, the two share a remarkable bond. They understand each other and complement each other. Being friends is one thing, but being business partners is another. It takes a strong duo to make both relationships work at the same time. Hats off to them!
The Greatest Recognition
Since opening in 2025, Pasta Pooks has been named the 9th best new restaurant in Canada by Air Canada enRoute, ranked among the ten best new restaurants in the country on Canada’s 100 Best list, and placed 47th overall on that same list. When asked which recognition touched him most, Luca doesn’t mention rankings or lists. He talks about his mother, and the pride he feels when he sees her bring her friends to Pasta Pooks. She’s proud to show them what her son has built: something real, something you can touch and taste. In the end, the greatest recognition probably comes from the people we love.
The boy who watched his mom and grandma cook is still there, bent over his pasta table. It’s the table that has changed. Today, Luca Vinci is the one people watch, and a whole city sits down at his table.
Written by Valérie Boutet
Photography by Alison Slattery
