The one and only PASTIZZI!
The word is pronounced PAH-STIT-ZEE.
A pastizzi is a maltese treat, according to some, and a staple according to others. It is a small pastry made of flaky golden dough and filled with a creamy ricotta cheese mixture. It is also available with a pea mixture sinside as well, but I must say, the cheese is by far better.
They are made by the pan fulls and sold by the dozens. People eat them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. You can find a pastizzeria on ANY street corner.
They are by far, the cheapest food I’ve ever purchased. The lowest price I ever saw advertised was 0.08 maltese lire. This is roughly equivalent to $0.25 American dollars.
The Maltese islands, located in the heart of the Mediterranean, is the last part of Europe before reaching Africa. The main island of Malta is no wider than 17 miles and on most maps, they are hardly visible.
Although pastizzis are best when fresh from the oven of pastizzeria, they are sold frozen and can be taken home for home preparation and catering. I always thought they came SMALL and LARGE, but word to the wise: the “large” pastizzis are actually called QASSATAT (ah-sah-tot).
Pictured at left is my brother Kyle. I recorded his first pastizzi experience when he visited me in Malta. His description of the popular little pastries was priceless. I could try and paraphrase, but it’s best is his own words:
I held it out and leaned in, imagining a grease explosion like a sparked car battery. I bit down and the grease and ricotta oozed into my mouth. It wasn’t so bad. I pulled in closer and took another bite. It was rich beyond reason. After the first bite is swallowed, your mouth is coated with a film, and you think, “Well, might as well take another bite, it’s too late now.”
And then your dignity goes away from you, one bite at a time. Who knows exactly what I was thinking when the shutter clicked.
When the deed was done, we walked silently to the bus stop while I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth.
“What do you think?” Lacy asked.
“I’m glad I did it,” I said, “but I won’t need another one for awhile……like, a long time.”
I thought about it more on the ride home, while the bus driver grinded gears;
It’s not that it wasn’t good, it’s just that it wasn’t “not-bad” enough.
If that makes any sense.
By the time we arrived home, I was feeling a little lethargic. I don’t know if it was the physical thickening of my blood that I was feeling or not, but something was amiss. I didn’t want to slip into sleep and then be up all night, so I drank a nice black cup of coffee. A few minutes later, I stretched out on the couch and gave in. Pastizzi….1, Coffee….0.