Most people remember artists through their paintings or poetry. I remember them through their meals—it’s a Sexy Mother Foodie thing.
To us, Monet’s gardens at Giverny conjure century-old images of dining alfresco on wild fowl with truffles tucked beneath bronzed skin. We’re at a wooden table draped with thick, starched linens, pouring very dark Bordeaux into crystal goblets, and serving teen-tiny portions with sterling silver. (There are about eight more courses to come.) We are admiring the blooming wisteria that weave a canopy over the Japanese bridge. And there aren’t any kids.
Of course, that image is false and impossible. But a flip through my very tattered copy of Monet’s Table was a great starting point for our recent trip to the New York Botanical Gardens, where Monet’s Giverny has been recreated from koi pond and waterlillies to Japanese bridge.
As expected, we walked in to find this:Someone dressed the part. “I’m taking pictures for my blog.”
But outside offered much to contemplate:“I want fish.”
“I want triangle.”
The best part may have been getting lost in a jungle on our way back home, to the place where the Wild Things are. We forgot about Monet and searched for Max.Where are the Wild Things?
Then we found where the fairies must live.Someone left very, very wet.
While there were plenty of dewdrops and nectar for the fairies to eat, we left hungry. No, starving.
But at least I had a plan. (To be continued…)