What is one to think of a man who loved to eat, for whom fine fare was a constant preoccuption and yet who never did a hand’s turn in the kitchen ? - quite the opposite of his friend J.M. Whistler or of Alexandre Dumas’ son whom he visited with Courbet in Le Havre and caught, of course, slaving over a hot stove.
If only Monet had written a diary !
What did he think of cooking ?
He who hated fine phrases, but was never short of ideas, always refused, perhaps, to philosophize about something so natural after all :
to eat well, is the least someone can expect in life.
(translation : Rebecca Truisi)
Le déjeuner sur l’herbe à Chailly. (middle board)
1865-1866. Paris, Musée d’Orsay.