Apparently, it's a pasticiotti. That makes a hell of a lot more sense than "pasta chaute," which is how I attempted to spell it phonetically. Considering my wacky spelling was of bastardized French influence, and that I know the basic difference between French and Italian, I should have known better. Oh, well.
Right now, a few of you know what I'm talking about. The rest of you probably think that more than my spelling is a little wacky. Let me explain.
When I was in college, my husband's 100% Italian grandmother used to send him away with boxes and boxes of pastry after every visit or meal out. Often, the box included these wonderful little pie-like creations. They consisted of a crumbly, shortbread-esque crust and a filling of chocolate or vanilla pudding or lemon curd.
I. Loved. Them. Other than that, and sort-of how how say what they were called, I knew very little. Over the years, I did learn where to find them. My favorite spot now is a tiny Italian bakery that I only seem to pass on my way to and from the dentist. (Yes, I appreciate the irony of this.)
Bella Bakery is located on State Fair Boulevard in Baldwinsville, New York. They sell all the usual Italian cookies, some doughnuts, some bread. Their case actually actually looks pretty nice.
But I only have eyes for the pasticiotti.
Is it hard to see why? I think not. The custard is rich and creamy, the crust has just a hint of sweetness. Oddly, I've never attempted to make these myself. Perhaps it's time. This recipe looks reasonable. Hmmm...
As for the wonderful Italian lady who introduced me to them? She is no longer with us, but loved dearly and remembered always. We miss you Ida, and all the fabulous and fattening ways you tried to...
Keep it sweet.