After months of anticipation, Saint Pasta is set to open in downtown Phoenix on Wednesday.
The restaurant is a brick-and-mortar relaunch of the much-loved food truck of the same name, and chef and owner Racan Alhoch is eager to bring his signature vodka sauce, chicken cutlets and Spaghetti Pomodoro, along with his infamous social-media snark, back to the downtown area.
“Saint Pasta is me, truly, for the first time and in the purest sense," Alhoch says. "In previous iterations, there were partnership pressures to offer certain cocktails or dishes. But now, it's just me, and these are just my favorite things. It’s really morphed into my dream restaurant. These are baselines, the classics."
Old favorites return with fresh inspiration
While the streamlined menu for the soft opening of the first two weeks is simple, the flavors are not. Long-time fans will be happy to hear that Alhoch’s signature slow-cooked, small-batch vodka sauce is front and center, giving a familiar creamy velvet spice to dishes like the Rigatoni Vodka and classic Chicken Vodka Parmesan. A classic Spaghetti Pomodoro with fresh basil and parmesan and spaghetti with garlic butter, olive oil, chile flakes and lemon zest round out the pasta offerings. Veteran Saint Pasta patrons know that the pasta choir sings when the dishes are combined with a chicken cutlet or a generous dollop of ricotta.Other entrees include a classic chicken parmesan with house pomodoro and a chicken Milanese, topped with arugula and parmesan. In the coming weeks, there are plans to add a pesto gnocchi dish, as well as a Caesar salad and mozzarella stick appetizer. There is also a stracciatella cheesecake by Chaconne Patisserie for those wanting to finish the night with something sweet.
Low-intervention, unfiltered wines permeate the wine list selections, and the cocktail menu mirrors the sweet, sassy and somewhat unhinged meme-posts that Saint Pasta has built a cult following around. Bartenders Ryan Tardif and Richie Sullivan are having fun complementing the entrees and pastas with some zany, delicious drinks.
The Cherry Hill-Billy attempts to recreate Mountain Dew Code Red with house-infused cherry vodka, the titular soda and carbonated cherry foam, making for a fizzy, playful, tart sipper. The Homie Hopper, with white rum, pineapple, lime, orange and coconut water makes for an easy sipping, refreshing beverage to perfectly balance a bowl of pasta.
For those eager to relive the food truck days in a more elevated fashion, the aesthetics the space have been modified to fit the Saint Pasta vibes. Purple and red neon accent the dining area. On the far wall, Saint Pasta’s slogan, “Al Dente or Die” hangs in vibrant red light, reading as a possible blessing or veiled threat.
In an homage to Alhoch's New Jersey roots, a wall projection of classic mob movie scenes plays on loop above the bar, showcasing some of the best (and muted) Sopranos and Goodfellas monologues. An open kitchen lets patrons glimpse how the pasta magic comes together, while classic old-school East Coast rap blasts loudly.
For those who know the brand, the whole thing is a synthesis of what Phoenix has come to love, and have missed, from Saint Pasta. But opening a new space, and getting back into the kitchen, was not necessarily what Alhoch had in mind this year.
An unexpected opening
“I was always interested in brick-and-mortars. That had always been the goal. And I was trying to take it a step at a time, but it never panned out. It was actually a Phoenix New Times article that led to some of this," Alhoch says.
After seeing that The Larder + The Delta was closing, Alhoch contacted the landlord. The former restaurant, led by acclaimed chef Stephen Jones, was one of the first restaurants Alhoch visited when he moved to Phoenix.
"I remember thinking back then, ‘Oh wow, this space is really nice. I would love to have a space like this,’" he recalls.
However, another restaurant, The Pairing Room, moved in. When that concept closed after three months, the landlord called Alhoch to see if he was still interested.
"The moment we set foot in the place, my wife, who has never been on board with the spaces I have looked at, told me we had to take it," Alhoch says. "It was reasonable, and perfect for what we wanted to do, and this landlord clearly has the intention of bringing something good to the neighborhood.”
Alhoch, never one to shy away from a hot take, notes that part of Saint Pasta’s earlier difficulties arose from their experiences with landlords in Phoenix. In trying to find a suitable location for the next iteration of Saint Pasta, he encountered hurdles as an independent business owner without the massive capital of some larger concepts.
“Ultimately, the biggest barrier to Phoenix being as creative and cutting-edge in our food scene as we could be is the landlord situation. There just aren’t enough second-generation spots available for restaurants to move into, and if you have limited capital, you can't do a remodel of a space to convert it. That's just too much," he says. "But instead, the people who hold these buildings, they only want to invest in the same concepts, over and over, bringing in the same types of restaurants, because it's a safe bet. But it's causing a stagnation in the scene."
Alhoch has also been vocal about how his previous partnership and landlord agreement at The Pemberton did not live up to his expectations. After his 18 months at that space were over, Alhoch took to social media to put the space on blast and bring attention to what he felt was an unfair business practice that preyed on up-and-coming food creators in the city.
The experience soured his outlook on the restaurant business in Phoenix, and he made a promise to himself as he turned to the production and distribution of his small-batch sauces that if he were to do a restaurant again, he would do it completely on his own terms. Even so, as the time approached to resurrect Saint Pasta, he had doubts.
“When you go through something like that, it’s traumatic, right? I built a behemoth, this huge brand, which is what the investor at the time wanted. Out of a little food truck, we were putting up very busy restaurant numbers, and we were exceeding that goal tenfold. But we were carrying that place and not getting much in return. So, when we could, we got out," Alhoch explains. "But after the dust settled and I left that space, you lose a little confidence and trust in yourself. Even if you are the meme king Saint Pasta."
Alhoch regrouped by pivoting to the small-batch distribution of his fan-favorite Saint Pasta Vodka Sauce and plotted his next moves, letting the sauce do the talking as he grew his brand across 28 states, with patrons setting their alarms to time with his email "sauce drops." He also took to social media, where he thrives as a self-proclaimed shit-poster, engaging with his online followers on issues of food, politics, and the Saint Pasta brand.
His pithy, irreverent tone – the account will often clap back at rude DMs with cutting, hilarious and public takedowns – is unlike any other restaurant account.
“A lot of people have never seen a business post like this, in this sort of tone, and they are curious to come check it out. And then there are people that think I’m a fucking asshole, and they’re not going to come in here, so I don’t have to deal with them. That’s a win-win for me. I’m only filtering in the people that I want,” Alhoch says.
Italy and Syria meet in New Jersey
While sometimes acerbic on socials, Alhoch is far from the asshole persona he projects online. He prides himself on wanting to be a perfect host, and his passion for food – both Italian and Mediterranean – is infectious.Alhoch recalls growing up in New Jersey in a diverse community that saw Italian and Middle Eastern kids bonding over skateboarding and roaming the neighborhood to find the best slice or calzone. When he was invited to his friend's houses, he saw the ritual of food and found similarities to his household as a Syrian American kid.
While they might not be able to talk about falafel and hummus, his friends could talk pizza and pasta, and Alhoch was quick to find the commonality in a shared love of food. Even as a teenager, he dreamed of a pizza and pasta place of his own, and the seed of what was eventually Saint Pasta grew.
“Part of the reason the name (is) Saint Pasta is that I love this food, and I love preaching about it. I wanted to spread the gospel of vodka sauce," Alhoch says. "This may be the thing that resonates with my fans: they are hungry for something authentic, and I throw my voice and opinion out there, and it’s not something trying to be cool or experiential. The snark is authentic and refreshing, and then the food backs up the shit talk."
But like any saint, giving too much to your followers can deplete you. For Alhoch, working consecutive 14-to-16-hour days in the food truck became untenable, and he became burned out. The inspiration, and his health, dwindled. Still, not wanting to let his fans down, he pivoted to the sauce distribution, which he produced out of Highland Food Hub. Stepping away from the truck allowed Alhoch to rest, reassess and recover.
With Saint Pasta's newest iteration, he has a new approach and some new inspiration. In November, Alhoch and his wife welcomed their first child.
“This is mature Saint Pasta, with a goal in mind. I want my kid to be proud of me and see me as successful and someone who has that drive, but also not know me as a tired, angry asshole who works too much and doesn’t have time for him.” Alhoch says.
The ascension of Saint Pasta
The re-emergence of Saint Pasta is less renaissance and more of a reformation, reconciling Alhoch’s successes and missteps with a more feasible, nuanced approach and an eye for longevity.
These days, he says he prides himself on his ability to be a gracious host without obsessing over every possible perfection. He sees inspiration in other local chefs rather than putting them on blast with his “takedowns” of the past. He has a soft spot for chef Joey Maggiore, owner of The Italiano and The Sicilian Butcher, who has been supportive of his growth and business, and is a devoted family and pasta man as well.
Saint Pasta fans were shocked when the normally cynical Alhoch began posting selfies with Maggiore and sharing anecdotes about how well he treats his staff, but given the experiences of the man behind the brand, it seems to track.
“Chef Joey is the fucking man – maybe the most welcoming chef in Arizona. Since we met, he has been so gracious and kind and generous. He’s the antithesis of a lot of the scenes in Phoenix, which are just places trying to show you how cool they are. He’s not a gatekeeper and he’s wildly creative, and he knows his shit. Some people give him shit for his locations and concepts, but if that dude ever came downtown and did a ten-item menu on Roosevelt Row, he would go off," Alhoch notes. "He’s gangster as fuck and supports the community, and he has good intentions, which is more than most of these guys can say."
Lest one think that he is getting too soft in his paternal days, Alhoch reiterated that the Saint Pasta etiquette still applies: don’t be an asshole.
“House rules still run: We don’t modify food. We can’t accommodate most people with allergies. No reservations. We match energy. If you are an asshole, we’ll be an asshole. We’re not for everybody. We’re not for picky eaters, children, or people who want to bring dogs into restaurants,” Alhoch emphasized.
When asked what might be next, he hints at plans for a late-night spot open for Friday and Saturday to test a theory that the city is lacking a truly great late-night food experience. At the end of the day, though, he’s happy with this moment.
“My mom, she watches a lot of Syrian astrology shows on TV. She’s very superstitious. She keeps telling me this year is the year of my sign: Gemini," Alhoch says. "I’ve already had a kid, and I’m opening my dream restaurant. It’s a blessing. What more could you want after that?”
Saint Pasta
Opening on Wednesday, Dec. 18200 W. Portland St., #101
