Mom, stop beating me with your spiked club (hairbrush)!
Why are you spraying acid in my eyes (water spray bottle)?!!
This is how family picture prep went with my brothers. Before long my mom was getting frustrated, Dad would come to her defense and soon someone, if not everyone, was crying.
You could say the Paris obsession started over 20 years ago. When I was reading the Madeline books five times a day with my parents. And roller skating through the drive way practicing my Madeline ice skating routine. We have a family video of this, which I now find tremendously embarrassing, because I'm trying to upstage my two-year-old little brother's birthday party on roller skates.
Yeah, um. Let's pretend that didn't happen.
Anyway, fun fact: Ben and I were in the same French class. For probably FIVE years. And since we ended up married, we probably talked all the time, right? Jamais, mon ami. Jamais.
This is the sad story of the Alphabet Meringue cookies.
Technically speaking, they were Russische Brot, from one of my ALL TIME favorite cookbooks, Classic German Baking. And really they tried to warn us. These poor cookies. They were screaming, "Please. Don't make us. We're warning you. Our name means 'Russian Bread' in German. We look like cookies. But we are lies. Our name tells you this. Do you want to eat Russian Bread? -- Like, for dessert, not with caviar or cheese?"