Even if the name doesn’t give it away, you can tell pretty quickly what Pasta Shop is about. The room is small, the menu is short, and within minutes of sitting down there’s a plate of pasta in front of you. No delays dressed up as service, no over-explaining. Just food, made and sent out while it’s still at its best.
Paola Toppi has been cooking in Sydney long enough to have watched Italian food go through its fair share of phases – from rustic revival to fine dining reinvention and everything in between. Her former venues, Machiavelli and Bar M, carried a little more polish and formality. Pasta Shop doesn’t bother with that. The white tablecloths are gone, replaced with timber tables, terracotta chairs and the kind of setup that says: come hungry, not overdressed.
The space, a former Mexican site on Bayswater Road, seats around 35 people. There’s a courtyard tucked out the back and a takeaway window that keeps the kitchen on display. The rhythm is clear from the moment you walk in: orders in, pasta out, repeat.
The menu keeps things refreshingly simple: 11 pastas, no endless list of options designed to make you stare at the page like you’re sitting an exam. The spaghetti Machiavelli is the obvious anchor. And, It arrives exactly as expected: balanced, familiar and completely uninterested in chasing whatever pasta trend happens to be having a moment.
The rest follows the same approach. Rigatoni alla vodka brings warmth and a little bite. The gnocchi with gorgonzola is soft without collapsing into a cheese swamp. The crab fusilli keeps its shape and lets the sauce do the talking. These are dishes that don’t need to perform for attention – they know what they are.
And then there’s the price. Everything sits under $30, which feels increasingly rare in Sydney dining. It means you can actually order what you want without doing mental arithmetic at the table or pretending you “weren’t really hungry anyway”. More sharing, less strategy.
The rest of the menu sticks to the same philosophy. Polpette in sugo that are properly tender. Focaccia that exists purely to be torn apart before it cools. Tiramisu that holds together without becoming a heavy sugar situation.
The drinks list is short. Italian wines that rotate, a few beers, and bottled cocktails from Maybe Sammy. They do the job. A Negroni lands cold and consistent, which is enough.
Takeaway has clearly been considered, too. The custom containers are designed to stop the pasta continuing to cook once it leaves the kitchen – a small detail, but one that means your dinner doesn’t arrive home having quietly turned into a bowl of very expensive noodles.
There are no bookings. You simply show up, wait if you need to, and eat. It keeps things moving and stops the room from becoming too precious. You eat, you finish, you leave. Come in hungry, you leave happy – which sounds like a pretty perfect recipe to us…
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