French for "tile," a tuile is a thin, crisp cookie that is placed over a rounded object (like a rolling pin) while still hot from the oven. (There is also a special tuile mold, over which the hot cookies may be placed.) Once cooled and stiff, the cookie resembles a curved roof tile.
They are very thin. I don't really know if I can actually say that I completed these cookies. The result was, well, tragic. They looked like you-know-what on my knock-off Silpat. I later discovered that the denominator had worn off the measuring cup I was using and instead of two 1/3 cups of sugar, I used two 1/2 cups of sugar. Yeah. Big, sugary difference. I was having a serious case of Swept-away-with-the-Fab-Four-osis while baking. It happens quite frequently. You know, singing at the top of my lungs into my whisk and swaying and twirling at the appropriate sitar solos for Within You, Without You. Oh, you mean you don't do that? Hello? Anyone? Is this thing on?
I don't know what it is with me and the Light and Delicate section of this book. Maybe it says something about me being brutish and heavy. I lack the careful precision and patience that this type of cookie takes. Maybe I will always be destined to be the baker of the cakey cookies. Such is my lot in life. And what a lot it is, forced to eat soft doughy, buttery cookies forever. So get ready readers, for the next few batches of grotesquely, inedible cookies. :)