I found God at the pasta bar: and you should too
Written by Alexa LoSchiavo. Graphic by Micaela Alomia.
No, I’m not turning into an evangelist and putting you onto religion in my university’s column on Spots Around Sav. However, I am telling you I had a spiritual, life-changing experience at Lucia Pasta Bar, and you should too.
Lucia Pasta Bar is the “new joint” in town —a beautiful and interesting celebration of what I love most: pasta (and community). Lucia Pasta Bar soft-opened on Aug. 27th and has already become the talk of the town for its incredibly tasty food and meticulously curated atmosphere. This pasta bar is described by the owners as the “neighborhood fatto a mano pasta bar nestled in the Starland District,” and this description fits the feeling of dining there more perfectly than you could imagine.
When you walk into this pasta bar, you’re greeted by the shimmering logo of a woman looking down, covered by hair (that somewhat resembles pasta) in a gold tint. The meaning of “Lucia” in Italian is light, and it’s rather fitting that the shimmering logo invites you in. Entering Lucia Pasta Bar means entering a bustle of activity, with people sitting around the bar, the place to watch the chefs making pasta by hand and simmering sauces and a dining room with tables closely lined together, perhaps only a foot apart.
Lucia generates community from the shared space of watching the chefs cook your food or simply from sitting inches from your neighbor. I sat near the window, next to a particular talkative couple who’d just moved to Savannah. And they said, “You can’t go wrong with anything here.” I wholeheartedly agree. The food is just part of the charm; with people close together and the bustling noises and smells of the kitchen, you’re reminded that eating is a collective experience of noticing and communing with the people around you.
The names of the pasta are all in Italian, and you can either look up what each word means or ask your waitress. But regardless of whatever you pick, you’re guaranteed a glimmering experience. The head chef and owner, Kyle Jacovino, lived and cooked in Italy for six months studying with a Venetian pizzaiolo to learn famed pasta-making techniques, inspiring a connection with Italian culture, which can be seen in the food today. He opened Pizzeria Vittoria Napoletana and now the Lucia Pasta Bar, a beautiful look into Italian cuisine.
I started my meal with the Wood-Fired Roasted Shisitos Bruschetta, which was a splendid and beautiful new take on bruschetta with Anaheim peppers and creamy ricotta. But the best part of this restaurant, the “spiritual experience” I’ve so enthusiastically alluded to, is of course the pasta. I ordered the Campanelle [Alla Vodka], a bell-shaped, wavy pasta made in-house (as all their pastas are) with vodka sauce, crispy shallots, passata, panna and nduja. As a lover of pasta and a lover of good food, I have tried many different iterations of pasta with vodka sauce, and this pasta was the best I’d ever had, bar none.
This entire restaurant is a celebration of the beauty that comes from care, care put into homemade pasta, curating community, and creating a space filled with people and artists of their craft. The beauty of this place comes from the thoughtful details, the tables spaced a foot apart, the pasta hand-folded, made throughout every step and the inviting bar that lets customers and chefs unite.
So, yes, perhaps I was being dramatic, perhaps I did not find god at the Pasta Bar, but I did find community, a space filled with care and a pasta that changed my life.
Alexa is a sophomore majoring in Writing and hopes to pursue a career in publishing and writing books. Outside of writing for District, she can be found writing about almost anything, reading in the park, or taking pictures of beautiful things.
Dining and Cooking