There’s something perfectly peak Wicker Park about a rigorously executed old-world Italian pastificio that offers zoodles in meat sauce along with casarecce, chiusoni, and lumache. I’ve lurked outside the Division Street storefront window of Tortello long enough to see those rare pasta shapes hand-formed by humans, but it seems the zucchini noodles are prepped in back, far away from the authenticity police but no more than a meatball’s throw from a hundred keto-crazed stroller moms.
And unlike a carny act, the display is meant to highlight the thorough effort the couple has made, going so far as to host Lilla Simone, a real Italian grandma and sfoglina, or pasta maker, to train the staff. Simone has since returned to Puglia, but the daily results of her three proteges are on grand display under the glass counter in this slim space: flour-dusted ivory tangles of bucatini, piled paccheri, and/or coils of fusilli, all sold by the pound next to containers of sauce.
Tall, airy focaccia with a discernible crunch and smeared with house-made ricotta and Wisconsin honey is a standout ancillary carb, though other bites—Castelvetrano olives or Reggiano and balsamic or a seasonal granita of the day—provide more balance. Less perishably, a focused collection of Italian beers, wines, and digestivos can complete an idyllic session in this specialized, immersive pasta performance.
1746 W. Division tortellopasta.com
