Every December in my grandmother Eva's kitchen, the biscuit tins came out. Not one tin. Five, six, sometimes seven, each lined with wax paper, each filled with a different Weihnachtsbäckerei. Vanillekipferl in one. Linzer Augen in another. And always, without fail, a tin of Pariser Stangen stacked in neat rows with the lemon glaze catching the light.

Gretel always said that a proper Austrian Christmas tin tells you how seriously a baker takes Mehlspeisen. Pariser Stangen were her test. They look simple, just piped sticks of hazelnut meringue with a white glaze, but they demand that you understand egg whites and know when to stop folding. The meringue has to be stiff enough to pipe cleanly but still soft enough that the ground hazelnuts don't knock all the air out. Get it right and you have a biscuit that cracks when you bite into it, then gives way to something chewy and fragrant with toasted nuts. Get it wrong and you have flat, dense little logs that taste like a missed opportunity.

The lemon glaze is the other half of what makes these work. It sets thin and sharp, a bright counterpoint to the sweet, rich meringue underneath. You brush it on while the Stangen are still slightly warm so it bonds to the surface and dries smooth. When you pull one from the tin a week later, the glaze should still snap cleanly under your teeth. That's how you know it was done properly.