POILANE TARTLETTE AUX POMMES

There is a delicate crackling like a tentative step into dry autumn leaves.  The teeth can't stop, they keep pressing, smashing the thin layers of pastry - that seem suspended in a space left by evaporated butter - into each other until the tender denseness gives way to the soft flesh, and a tiny burst of sweetness, of delicate sweet juices wet the mouth, completing the bite.  My toes curl.