“The Oyster Lunch”
Part 2
Why Champagne Pairs So Well with Oysters
(The chemistry they could appreciate back then, but could not explain)
This pairing did not come about by chance. Its development is closely connected with the culture of the French aristocracy in the eighteenth century—and with the very lunch depicted by Jean-François de Troy.
► Oysters—salty, briny, with a soft, velvety texture.
► Champagne—acidity, bubbles, freshness. It cleanses the palate, cuts through richness, and highlights the oysters’ maritime character.
Everything comes together in one effortless gesture: an oyster slips into the mouth, followed almost immediately by a sip of Champagne. The oyster delivers a concentrated taste of the sea, and the Champagne carries that sensation forward. Together, they form a nearly perfect sensory pairing.
👉 Almost three centuries later, this French partnership has lost none of its appeal.
Even today, oysters can turn up where you least expect them—for example, along the final miles of the Médoc Marathon, surrounded by runners, vineyards, châteaux, and wine-tasting stations along the course.
How the people of Médoc managed to bring together sports, wine, and gastronomy is the subject of our separate series on the Marathon des Châteaux du Médoc.
Why Are There Only Oysters on the Table?
► This was not the entire lunch, but only part of it—a prelude, an episode, a kind of snack before the main courses. Oysters were particularly well suited to such an occasion. They could be served quickly, required no cooking, and could be opened and eaten immediately. Perfect for a lively gathering where everything happens in the midst of conversation, laughter, and constant movement.
This was not so much food intended to satisfy hunger as something meant to prepare the guests for what was to come
First came a sip of wine—too light to attract much attention. Then an oyster—cool, salty, disappearing almost before you had time to appreciate it. After that, another sip of wine, this time a little more generous. And at that moment, something became clear:
It was not really about the food. Nor was it about the wine.
It was about the privilege of being there
An oyster, a sip of champagne—almost a single gesture. Shells, damp napkins, a knife, a cork, and traces of wine remain on the table. Here, pleasure is not being served—it is already happening
👉 In France during the first half of the eighteenth century, under Louis XV, there were many ways to stimulate the appetite before the main courses. However, the familiar modern concept of the apéritif, along with today’s established tradition of appetizers before a meal, had not yet taken its present form.
At aristocratic tables of the period, meals were generally served according to the principle of service à la française: several dishes belonging to the same course were placed on the table simultaneously, then replaced by the dishes of the next course. Small savory delicacies could therefore form part of the first course rather than constitute a separate preliminary meal.
One example was petits pâtés friands—small pastries filled with savory ingredients. They were particularly convenient for guests who wished to continue their conversations without becoming absorbed in a substantial dish. And sparkling wine paired beautifully with them as well.
It is easy to imagine an almost identical scene: aristocrats chatting, helping themselves to little pastries, sipping wine, while the main meal still lies ahead.
…From a Conversation at the Table
— Tell me, when are they finally going to serve the venison with a red wine reduction?
— My dear friend, you’re in too much of a hurry. We still have to live long enough to see it.
— In that case, please pour me another glass. I have no intention of risking my life sober.
(Laughter.)
🎭 The Characters
There are no identifiable historical figures in The Oyster Lunch. The painting depicts generalized aristocratic figures, representative types of court society.
Jean-François de Troy was interested not so much in who these people were, but in how they lived. What fascinated him was the atmosphere itself, the behavior of those present, and their way of life. These were not specific individuals, but representatives of everyone who knew how to live this way—and could afford to do so.
The artist depicted an exclusively male gathering. Such oyster lunches were often all-male affairs, which allowed for considerably greater freedom of behavior. Without women present, there was less need to observe formal etiquette, and greater liberties could be taken. Laughter grew louder, drinking became more enthusiastic, and manners became less restrained. Nobody paid much attention to how the guests looked. Except the artist.
🌬️ Aromas and Scents
The smells drifting through the room reach our imaginary visitor, who remains discreetly hidden in a corner of the hall. First comes the scent of the sea, a faint suggestion of salt, as though an ocean breeze was blowing through this richly decorated room.
Then comes the cool, briny smell of oysters, as though their shells still remembered the seawater.
This luncheon has not only a taste, but a scent. The sea-fresh aroma of oysters, spilled champagne, wax, powder, and perfume mingle with the breeze from the open window. The very air of the room becomes part of the experience
Next—Champagne. Its slightly sweet aroma rises not only from the glasses but also from the table itself, where enough wine has already been spilled without anyone making much effort to save it. Why bother? They had ordered plenty more!
These powerful aromas mingle with the scent of powder—dry, almost weightless—blending with perfume and something more human, barely perceptible yet unmistakably real.
And finally, wax. Even when the candles are not burning, they leave their subtle trace in the air, binding all the other scents together.
You breathe in this enveloping mixture—and realize that leaving this room may prove considerably more difficult than entering it.
☀️ The Light
The entire room is illuminated by daylight streaming through large windows. The candles have not yet been lit. Candlelight belongs to festivities and special occasions. But during the day, this is simply ordinary life for the aristocracy.
They drink Champagne not because there is something to celebrate, but because they can—and because it is the accepted thing to do! This is not a secret indulgence, but an openly practiced way of life. For the privileged few, of course.
The light conceals nothing. It falls directly upon the table, the hands, and the glasses—without mercy and without the slightest suggestion of mystery. Everything is visible: the Champagne, the oysters, and precisely who is eating them and how.
In such light, pretending is impossible.
But apparently, nobody is even trying
The Atmosphere of the Lunch
Gradually, the conversations around the table begin to lose some of their coherence. Remarks come a little faster and more freely, sometimes taking unexpected turns in logic.
The luncheon goes on. There are more shells, fewer bottles, and louder conversations. A fallen glass can stay where it is, a lost shoe can go unnoticed, and a napkin can prudently be tucked into one’s collar. Dignity is still intact. Order — not quite
— No, you’re mistaken… although, come to think of it, perhaps you’re right. But certainly not at this particular moment.
— You see? We’ve already started agreeing with one another. That’s a dangerous sign.
(Laughter.)
— And who has been pouring the wine? Fortunately, my glass is full again!
— As it should be. Emptiness is considered bad manners in our company.
— Are you talking about your glass, or about life in general?
— Today, they’re one and the same.
(A brief pause.)
— Tell me honestly, have you stopped counting the oysters?
— I stopped paying attention to how many there were after the second bottle.
— Then we are in exactly the right place, and in excellent company. Life is short. We must eat and drink here and now. And besides, life is rather pleasant.
One of the guests turns toward the artist:
— Listen, Monsieur de Troy, do make me a little taller in your painting… and, if possible, give me a more noble, languid expression.
— In that case, you’ll have to stand farther away from the bottle, so no one can compare the two.
(Laughter.)
— And don’t forget to paint a glass in my hand. Otherwise, the king simply won’t recognize me. And that would be most unfortunate.
…From Conversations Around the Table…
— More oysters… no, wait—Champagne first. Although, on second thought, oysters would be better.
— No, do it the other way around. And quickly, before I change my mind.
— Bring me a napkin. No, not that one—it already knows far too much about me.
(Laughter.)
— Where is my glass? It was right here a moment ago.
— It’s still right here. You’re simply not quite where you were.
— Escort me, please… you know where… No, perhaps I’d better go alone… although, on second thought, do escort me.
— You need to take five steps straight ahead. Or perhaps two to the side, depending on your intentions.
— Bring me a chair. No, take it away. I’d rather stand—my thoughts stay in my head more easily that way.
— Then pour another glass. We’re all thinking equally poorly at the moment anyway.
— Wait a moment… where is my decoration?
— Were you wearing it today?
— But I never take it off!
— Then it must still be on you.
— So it is… but where exactly?
(A pause. He looks down toward the tops of his boots.)
— Perhaps it’s on my other coat.
— The one you never take off either?
— Naturally.
(Laughter.)
— Do you have only one decoration?
— At the moment, I’m not entirely sure. That’s precisely what worries me.
The luncheon is over, but traces of it remain everywhere: empty bottles, oyster shells, corks, stains on the tablecloth, and puddles on the floor. Some have lost their shoes, others have lost count of their glasses. Only the servants still remember how it all began. The pleasure has been enjoyed. Restoring order will be someone else’s responsibility
💎 The Search for a Pearl
…From Conversations Around the Table…
— Wait a moment… don’t throw that shell away. What if…?
— What exactly are you hoping to find in there?
— A small justification for everything that’s going on here.
(Laughter.)
— Let me see… No, unfortunately, it’s empty. Far too honest for its own good.
— Are you searching for pearls in oysters, or merely looking for an excuse to keep eating them?
— One doesn’t necessarily exclude the other.
(A brief pause. Someone peers closely into a shell.)
While one guest searches an oyster shell for a pearl with the utmost seriousness, the others have already found a reason to laugh. Perhaps he is simply looking in the wrong place: the real pearls of this luncheon are rising from the bottom of the champagne glasses
— I think… Oh, no. Unfortunately, I was imagining things again.
— Then try another one. Fortune favors the persistent.
— Or the drunk.
— In our case, they’re practically the same thing.
(Laughter.)
— If you do find one, please don’t share the news with me. I’m not sure I could bear to hear it coming from you.
— Are you still looking for a pearl?
— Naturally. It would be a shame if pearls existed only in conversation.
— Then you’re definitely looking in the wrong place.
— And where, pray tell, should I be looking?
— Right here, in your glass. They’re rising all by themselves.
— Those aren’t pearls.
— Perhaps not. But these bubbles are far more dependable. And, more importantly, finding them requires absolutely no effort.
👔 How They Kept Their Clothes Clean
Over time, a proper technique for eating oysters had developed. The oyster was brought close to the lips; care was taken not to spill its juices, and movements were practiced and precise.
Protecting one’s clothing was largely a matter of skill.
🧻 Napkins: Napkins were held in the hand or spread across the lap. A guest could position one beneath an oyster or quickly dab away a stray drop before it caused any damage.
🧴 Servants nearby: Attendants provided fresh napkins, removed obvious spills, and responded quickly but discreetly, without drawing unnecessary attention to themselves.
► Attitudes Toward Stains
A small stain was hardly a tragedy. Sometimes it could even be regarded as evidence that one had fully participated in the occasion. The experience itself mattered more than immaculate cleanliness. Stains remained, and the tablecloth retained a vivid memory of everything that had happened.
No one here worried too much about their fine coats. They simply hoped the occasion would prove worthy of the stains
🦪 How They Cleaned Their Hands After Eating Oysters
In the eighteenth century, this could be done rather elegantly.
► 🧴 Small bowls of water: Sometimes lemon, vinegar, or aromatic herbs were added to help remove the smell of the sea. Guests could rinse their hands right at the table.
► 🧻 Napkins: Reusable cloth napkins were used to dry the hands and remove traces of food.
► 👑 At the court of Louis XV: Such gestures formed part of dining etiquette. Everything was done calmly, discreetly, and almost without attracting attention.
💰 And Who Paid for All This?
If such a lunch took place at the royal court, the expenses were covered by the royal treasury or the court’s household budget. Food and wine were supplied through the services responsible for provisioning the royal household.
If the occasion was a private gathering hosted by a nobleman, the host paid for it from his income—whether derived from estates, rents, or inherited privileges. Such lunches were an important demonstration of the host’s wealth and resources.
The important thing was that no one sitting at the table should have to think about any of this
🎨 The Overall Mood of the Painting
🎭 Key Impressions
- Effortlessness—nobody appears tense or uncomfortable.
- Movement—everything seems to be happening simultaneously.
- Excess—an abundance of food, wine, and gestures.
- Carelessness—but a carefully controlled kind.
🧠 The State of the Guests
- They are no longer entirely sober, but are still trying to maintain appearances.
- They laugh, interrupt one another, change their opinions, and show no desire to bring the gathering to an end.
- They enjoy not only the food and wine, but the entire experience.
These people are not celebrating life—this is simply how they live every day
🥂 The Central Focus
It is the cork flying upward, the Champagne in motion, and the eyes following its flight. This is the only moment when everyone shares the same focus of attention.
The center of the scene is not where the glasses stand, but where every gaze is directed for one fleeting instant.
🧠 The Main Idea
Pleasure here is neither earned, justified, nor restricted.
It simply exists!
Not an event → but a state of being.
Not an action → but a habit.
Not a celebration → but a way of life.
What matters here is not “what happened,” but “how it happens”
What Makes This Painting So French?
The culture of Rococo, with its emphasis on lightness, elegance, and playful sophistication.
Champagne as a symbol.
The behavior of the guests: wit, suggestion, subtle nuances—all so characteristic of eighteenth-century France.
People gathered around a table, food and wine providing the occasion, laughter, gestures, and growing intoxication. The desire to be together and enjoy the moment. All of this can be recognized in almost any culture.
But in France, it has been elevated to an art form.
↩️ The Return
Suddenly, the voice in your headphones returns, reminding you that it is time to go back—to the twenty-first century. The noise of conversation in the room gradually fades. The aromas dissolve. The laughter recedes, as though a gentle breeze were carrying it away through the corridors of the palace.
The light grows more even.
And a moment later, you find yourself standing once again in a gallery of the Musée Condé. Before you hangs the same painting—The Oyster Lunch.
Everything is exactly where it was. Oyster shells lie scattered across the table. Glasses are raised. The cork is still suspended in midair, forever caught at the height of its flight.
You glance around nervously, afraid that someone nearby might somehow guess where you have been, what you have seen, and what you heard only moments ago.
People walk past the painting. Some stop, look at it for a while, and move on. To them, it is simply one of many scenes from eighteenth-century life.
A little farther away sits a young man with an easel.
The journey into the 18th century has come to an end. Before our modern-day visitor, a young artist is carefully transferring the details of a long-ago luncheon onto canvas. The colors, faces, gestures, even the disorder on the table can all be reproduced. But what made it all worthwhile cannot be copied—the very feeling of the moment
— Are you studying? — you ask.
— Earning a living, — he replies without looking up.
— An important commission?
— Important enough to require a certain degree of precision.
(He takes a step back and narrows his eyes.)
— A gentleman wants to hang a copy of this painting in his wine cellar. He has more wine down there than memories. He collects sparkling wines, and apparently he’s decided he needs the right atmosphere to go with them.
— And he expects the painting to help him create it?
(A pause.)
— He says he’ll invite some friends, open a few bottles, buy some oysters, and everything will somehow fall into place, just as it does in the painting.
— Do you think it will work?
At last, the young man looks away from his work.
— The painting? Perhaps.
(He smiles faintly.)
— The rest? I doubt it.
🕰️ …Present Day, the Wine Cellar of a Prominent Swiss Collector in Basel
Everything had been prepared almost flawlessly. On the wall hung a recently completed copy of The Oyster Lunch. Not a museum reproduction or a photograph, but a hand-painted oil copy, meticulously recreating the composition of Jean-François de Troy’s original.
Beneath it stood a long table.
The oysters had arrived that morning in a specially designed temperature-controlled container. The Champagne had been chilled to precisely the right temperature. The glasses had been arranged in advance, each in its proper place. The lighting had been dimmed just enough to resemble the light that had fallen upon the table of French aristocrats three centuries earlier.
Even the guests had been carefully chosen—people who had known one another for many years and needed no explanation as to why they had been invited.
The host surveyed the table one last time and was satisfied. Everything was in place. The oysters. The Champagne. The friends. The atmosphere. And the painting.
Almost three centuries later, much can be recreated: the oysters, the champagne, the gestures, even the painting on the wall. The hardest thing to recreate is what cannot be seen on the table—the moment itself
Only one thing was missing:
That one elusive moment
The first bottle opened smoothly. The cork popped softly and struck the ceiling. Someone smiled. Someone else continued talking. One guest examined the label, another asked about the vintage, and a third took out his phone to photograph the bottle.
Almost involuntarily, the host raised his eyes toward the painting. There, everything had happened differently. The men had all looked upward at the same instant. For one brief moment, conversations, gestures, and glances had converged on a single point—the flying cork.
Here, the cork was already lying on the floor.
And nothing had happened!
They opened a second bottle. Then a third.
The oysters were exquisite. The Champagne was impeccable. The conversation was perfectly pleasant.
But the harder the host tried to make the gathering resemble the scene in the painting, the further that scene seemed to slip away from him.
He had thought of almost everything. Except one thing:
The moment you long for cannot be planned in advance
And then, while one of the guests was telling a story that had absolutely nothing to do with Champagne or art, he accidentally knocked over his glass. Champagne spilled across the white tablecloth.
His neighbor tried to rescue his napkin and inadvertently bumped into a platter of oysters. Someone managed to catch it before it fell. Someone else made a rather ill-timed joke about the whole affair.
And suddenly, everyone around the table burst into laughter.
The phone that one of the guests had been holding only moments earlier was placed face down on the table.
Someone picked up an oyster. Another guest, without waiting for the host, poured himself some Champagne. Conversations began overlapping. People interrupted one another.
Nobody was looking at the painting anymore.
Only the host looked around at his guests. At the wet, starched tablecloth. At the opened oyster shells. At the glasses. At the laughing faces.
And finally, he stopped waiting for that elusive moment to arrive.
And that was precisely when everything fell into place
Not the way it had in Jean-François de Troy’s painting.
And not the way the host had originally imagined it.
Because a painting can be copied. You can buy the same oysters. Find the finest Champagne. Gather your closest friends. Arrange the perfect lighting. Recreate the gestures. You can even dress in the fashion of the eighteenth century.
But the pleasure of a particular moment cannot be reproduced on-demand or copied like a painting. It can only be lived
Time passes. Tastes change. Habits disappear. But one rare ability remains—the ability to recognize a moment, remember it, and give it meaning.
Pleasure is timeless!
Leave a Reply