From childhood onwards Beethoven had a sensitive stomach and until about 1809 he usually ate out. When the provision of food in Vienna became ever more difficult due to the Napoleonic Wars, Beethoven was forced like others to find suitable kitchen staff for himself. "I must have someone to cook for me; so long as the food continues to be this awful I shall always be falling ill."37 However, he was rarely satisfied with his housekeepers.
Once, in desperation at the (in his opinion) poor quality of the staff, he even invited his friends to a meal that he cooked himself. His friend Ignaz von Seyfried reports: "For the guests there was nothing for it but to arrive punctually in anticipation of what would happen. They found their host [Beethoven] in his nightshirt, his unkempt head covered with a magnificent sleeping hat and his loins girded with a blue apron, busy at the stove.
After a test of patience that lasted more than one and a half hours, at the end of which the impetuous noises from their stomachs could hardly be drowned out by polite chit-chat any more, dinner was finally served. The soup resembled the scum that restaurant kitchens kindly donate to members of the begging fraternity; the beef was barely half boiled and suitable for those of a fighting nature; the vegetables swam together in a sea of water and fat, and the joint seemed to have been smoked in the chimney. Nonetheless, our host gamely introduced each of the dishes and, after the anticipated applause, became so jolly that he gave himself the name of a character in the burlesque "The Merry Consummation", namely, the cook Mehlschöberl. Setting an example himself and praising excessively the tasty morsels on the table, Beethoven tried to animate his dilatory guests. These, however, barely managed to force down a few lumps and, insisting that they were already quite full, restricted themselves to the fresh bread, fresh fruit, sweet biscuits and unadulterated grape juice. Fortunately, the Master of Sounds tired of his kitchen rule soon after this memorable feast and he laid down his sceptre of his own accord."38
37Letter from Beethoven to Nikolaus von Zmeskall, undated 1809.
38Ignaz von Seyfried, quoted from: Friedrich Kerst, Die Erinnerungen an Beethoven, Stuttgart 1913.
Once, in desperation at the (in his opinion) poor quality of the staff, he even invited his friends to a meal that he cooked himself. His friend Ignaz von Seyfried reports: "For the guests there was nothing for it but to arrive punctually in anticipation of what would happen. They found their host [Beethoven] in his nightshirt, his unkempt head covered with a magnificent sleeping hat and his loins girded with a blue apron, busy at the stove.
After a test of patience that lasted more than one and a half hours, at the end of which the impetuous noises from their stomachs could hardly be drowned out by polite chit-chat any more, dinner was finally served. The soup resembled the scum that restaurant kitchens kindly donate to members of the begging fraternity; the beef was barely half boiled and suitable for those of a fighting nature; the vegetables swam together in a sea of water and fat, and the joint seemed to have been smoked in the chimney. Nonetheless, our host gamely introduced each of the dishes and, after the anticipated applause, became so jolly that he gave himself the name of a character in the burlesque "The Merry Consummation", namely, the cook Mehlschöberl. Setting an example himself and praising excessively the tasty morsels on the table, Beethoven tried to animate his dilatory guests. These, however, barely managed to force down a few lumps and, insisting that they were already quite full, restricted themselves to the fresh bread, fresh fruit, sweet biscuits and unadulterated grape juice. Fortunately, the Master of Sounds tired of his kitchen rule soon after this memorable feast and he laid down his sceptre of his own accord."38
37Letter from Beethoven to Nikolaus von Zmeskall, undated 1809.
38Ignaz von Seyfried, quoted from: Friedrich Kerst, Die Erinnerungen an Beethoven, Stuttgart 1913.
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