"I remember vividly, very regular customers, this couple... they were like, 'Oh, Mauro, when you're older, you're going to run this place.' And I leaned over and I said, 'If I'm still here when I'm 20, you shoot me in the head.' I never, never, never wanted that as a kid."

But absence makes the heart grow fonder: Fast forward to 2025, and Mauro Petraccone is marking his 40th year connected to his NDG institution Pasta Casareccia—first as an 11-year-old kid schlepping garbage on the weekends, then as a manager who swore he'd escape, and now as the sole owner who can't imagine being anywhere else.

Named after the Italian word for ‘homemade’. | Photograph courtesy of Mauro Petraccone

The story starts in 1985, when Mauro's aunt Angela and uncle Lorenzo opened Pasta Casareccia on the corner of Harvard and Sherbrooke (where Mont Istanbul sits now). His parents, Pina and Pasquale, were running a travel agency in the neighbourhood before joining the operation a year later. His cousin Sesto came aboard in 1987. A portrait of the five original owners hangs above the exit—a reminder of where it all began.

Named after the Italian word for ‘homemade’, Casareccia wasn't always a sit-down restaurant. It started as a takeaway counter selling fresh house-made pasta, imported olive oil, and other staples.

"There were no tables when we first started. It was just the counter, fridges, a freezer... We were the first place outside of Montreal East, where all the Italians are, that was making fresh pasta,” Mauro says. “There was a period where it was a bit of a novelty and an exotic thing."

"By the end of 1988, when my mom came in, already people were asking to eat. So they put in four tables, then four became six, eight, ten, and twelve. And then at twelve, they realized, we can't fit in here."

That cramped dozen tables triggered the move a few blocks over to today's location at the corner of Draper Avenue and Sherbrooke in 1988.

Moving in, circa 1988. | Photograph courtesy of Mauro Petraccone

The lasagna that keeps the lights on

“We didn’t even have a menu at first. Once people started asking us to dine in, we printed up two lists: pasta shapes, and sauces. People would pick the shape and their sauce, and that was that. I think we had a second page with stuffed pastas, same deal—pick your shape, pick your sauce. It was a surprisingly long list, all things considered,” Mauro recalls.

“All of the classics were there—Bolognese, carbonara, our special Casareccia sauce (that’s my personal favourite, cream-based with sausage, mushrooms, and peas)— and the lasagna, which is still our biggest seller today. That’s been around since day one, and the recipe hasn’t changed since.”

Petraccone jokes that the dish—served hot in the restaurant and sold ready-to-bake from the attached boutique—pays all the bills. “That lasagna keeps the lights on; everything else pays people’s salaries.”

Early days at Casareccia. | Photograph courtesy of Mauro Petraccone

The long way home

As a teenager working shifts afterschool, Mauro had zero interest in making this his life. "I was studying communication arts. I was always into music and media stuff and I was like, oh, no, this is not for me."

He ended up in hotel and restaurant management, figuring he'd work the hospitality circuit—big hotels, prestigious gigs, a world away from the family trattoria. He did that for five or six years after university until the shine wore off.

"I walk in the kitchen and something's spilled on the floor. I'm on the floor on my hands and knees cleaning and the guy beside me says, 'That's not our job. You let the people do that... I'm going to tell the union that you're doing it,'" he recalls. "That stuff only had to be told to me twice and I'm like, I gotta get out of here."

The final straw? Driving two hours to his job at a Canadian Pacific hotel in Tremblant, only to be turned away at the security gate. "They called the strike (the day before). You (couldn’t) go to work. So I went up there for nothing. That happened a few times. And I was just like, meh."

In 2000, his uncle Lorenzo passed away. Mauro bought into the business in 2001. His brother Fabio joined in 2003. By 2018, Mauro bought out the rest of the family and took full ownership.

Most of the family still make regular appearances during the week. For Mauro, and for the staff and customers, Casareccia is woven into the fabric of NDG.

Crossing an ocean’s no escape

If you want to understand what Pasta Casareccia means to its neighbourhood, Mauro has a story: Recently, he was in Rome at a random trattoria where he and his friends stopped for lunch. Sure enough, one table over, a woman and her daughter were speaking Quebec French.

"I go, 'Where do you live?' 'Oh, we're on the South Shore.' Okay, I go, 'I live close to downtown,' blah blah. And then we start eating... and then I pulled out a business card. I go, 'Well listen, if you're missing this food when you get back to Montreal, come and see me.'"

She looked at the card. "Where is this?"

"We're in NDG."

She kept looking. Then: "I buy my lasagna from you."

"You know what I mean? Like, that was—God, my friends were dying. The waiters are freaking out. How is this possible?"

It's just that kind of place.

No time to celebrate

Not one to throw big, self-congratulatory parties, Mauro’s opted to keep the 40th anniversary celebrations humble with a continued refresh of the space, some new murals commissioned from local artist Danny Rebel.

Outside, a painting of rapper MF Doom eating spaghetti and meatballs with Montreal Canadiens right-winger Brendan Gallagher; inside, a portrait of legendary Italian actress Sophia Loren riding a bright red Vespa with the restaurant in the background. Mauro’s daughter and their greyhound also make a cameo. Danny also adorned the decorative Roman columns in the dining room with paintings of different pasta shapes.

Mauro, 40 years later (note the mural in the background).

Today, all the pasta from the spaghetti to the tortellini and lasagna is still made in-house daily (alongside imported gluten-free options). However, the menu has expanded considerably since those early days, heading into the territory of dishes like risottos, soups, and a sandwich menu that rivals the city’s best.

And now, after that trip to Rome, Mauro's pushing even harder into seasonal menus—four times a year instead of two.

"After 40 years, if I don't do stuff like this—go to Italy, come here, try new stuff—that's when this could become tiring. But I'm never really tired of it because there's always adaptation. There's always change."

He's bringing back vitello tonnato, a dish his mom used to make that he never liked as a kid. "I didn't like how she made it. And now in Rome, we had it two or three times... delicious."

"Vitello tonnato, I could get a lot more people to try it if I get rid of a Caprese, prosciutto and mozzarella, and they're like, 'Oh, they don't have my favourites, let me try this.' The moment you put prosciutto and melon on a menu, nine times out of 10, they're going to go for it because it's a standard that they know and they trust."

As for what's next after 40 years? "Death," Mauro says, deadpan. "I'm sorry to say this, but I die, you know?"

He's half-joking. There's talk of organizing trips to Italy for customers—small groups, off the beaten path, taking Mauro's tour. Travel is in his blood, after all! But for now, he's exactly where he swore he'd never be: behind the counter, in the kitchen, greeting regulars, making pasta.

The only difference is that he wouldn't have it any other way.

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Tom Zalatnai

A (mostly) spoken history of Pasta Casareccia and 40 years of feeding NDG