Pop a whole galette in your mouth and when your teeth hit the cookie, it'll break into crispy shards that, as they melt, will make you wrestle the tin away from your children, run upstairs and lock your door while you consume the entire contents.
I didn't really do that. I wanted to, obviously. But I love my children. And I have New Year's resolutions to keep. Plus the whole checks-and-balances thing of two daughters and a husband who are all thinking the same thing is complicated to maneuver.
However, I dare you, upon the arrival of a care package* from France containing La Galettes de la Mere Poulard not to try to jam five or six of these delirium-causing creations made of mostly butter bound with a little flour and sugar, and studded with bits of salted caramel into your mouth immediately before anyone else gets near you. It can't be done.
*Our French friends know that Americans will live a black-and-white life if they don't get a little European color via foreign baked goods and candy every now and then. I don't plan to ever disabuse them of this notion.