Young peas gently braised with a lettuce heart, a few small onions and a good knob of butter, without a drop of water: they cook in their own moisture and stay green and sweet.

Why this dish? In summer, Berthe painted gardens and vegetable patches at Bougival and Mézy-sur-Seine; peas picked in the morning and braised in butter were the quintessential lunch dish of wealthy families staying in the country, simple and luminous like her canvases.

Here is a dish I love above all, for it has the freshness of a June morning in the garden. We shell the peas in the shade, toss them into the pot with a lettuce heart and a fine piece of butter, and cover: no water, mind you, they are sufficient unto themselves. I serve them just so, barely bound, for I detest anything overdone; the grace of a thing lies in what naturalness we leave it.

How it was made : This waterless braise is a classic of 19th-century bourgeois home cooking, later codified by Escoffier. Butter and lettuce sufficed to provide juice; sometimes a few lardons were added on less lean days.

The contemporary twist : A spoonful of chopped mint at the last second and a squeeze of lemon juice to brighten the green — a 'Bougival garden' on the plate.

Berthe Morisot · Charactorium