The Week I Was Caviar Rich

Three tins of caviar, one lucky girl.

If you are a regular listener of my podcast Check Please! you will know that I was recently gifted a selection of caviars from Petrossian. This happened on simple terms: I desperately wanted to indulge in a little bit of caviar, and I am not in a tax bracket that allows me to purchase it on a whim, so I wrote to Petrossian with a pitch to do a taste test of their caviars for an episode of the podcast themed around opulence. They swiftly agreed.

Those were the conditions under which I found myself in the possession of nearly $500 in caviar. I stacked the bright blue tins neatly in a small tower on the top shelf of my fridge between a half-empty carton of eggs and a few peeled lemons.

A little on the caviar

I received three varieties and liked each one. I’ll share a little bit about the merits of each so should you ever feel like splurging (NYE feels like a nice time to do so, if you ask me), you can make an informed purchase.

Royal Baika® Caviar - This caviar was all brine and ocean air — a deep salty breath on a cold morning by the sea, a plate of fresh oysters on ice. It, more than any of the others, met my admittedly novice understanding of what caviar tastes like: rich and marine-forward.

Royal Daurenki® Caviar - This was the most delightful experience I’ve had with caviar. It was a lovely surprise of salty brine followed by an undeniably buttery, lactonic finish. It contained all the funky creaminess of a soft brie and reframed my understanding of what caviar could be like. I have a proclivity for unexpected flavors and very few culinary aversions, so if you are similarly adventurous, I would recommend this caviar above all others.

Royal Ossetra Caviar - I found this caviar to be the most mild and approachable of the trio. It’s described as balanced with notes of fruit and toasted grains. While I can’t say I picked up the latter notes, I would say it had a smooth, balanced flavor profile and lacked some of the more salt-heavy marine notes of the Baika, for instance. I am not put off by salt or fishiness in the slightest, but if you are, this caviar might suit you quite nicely. The texture of the pearls was small and firm, which may be friendlier to textural sensitivities.

While on the topic of caviar, I need to get something off my chest. I hate the concept of the “caviar bump.” I believe something so precious and luxurious should be enjoyed with care, and I cannot imagine anything more déclassé than licking your hand at the bar, which leads us to my next point.

All the accoutrements

I love a fussy little kitchen accessory. There’s just something about serveware designed for one specific purpose that feels decadent — an egg cup, a lemon squeezer, a butter spreader — they come with varying levels of utility, but the non-necessity of them is really the common thread.

Caviar has it’s own set of accoutrements, so if you’re feeling indulgent, I might recommend a caviar spoon. I especially like the mother of pearl variety shaped like a little fish, which you can get here. The utility of this is that metals can react with and negatively affect the taste of your caviar. Most flatware is made with stainless steel these days, which some say is not as reactive as genuine silver. Though less glamorous, if you want to be on the safe side, a plastic utensil will work just fine.

A vessel is also an option, and I’m particularly charmed by this silver clam shell style. I would place the tin in the middle over a bit of crushed ice.

And speaking of ice, you’ll want some if you’re serving caviar straight out of the tin. It’s easiest to nestle into a bed of pebble ice, which, if you weren’t aware, you can actually purchase by the bag at Sonic. Fancy that. The fishmongers at my grocery store also offer to pack all seafood with pebble ice for the car ride home, and though I haven’t tried this, I’m certain they’d be glad to give you a bag, which you could carry home in a cooler.

How to host a caviar party

To someone more accustomed to a life that can regularly accommodate caviar, maybe three 50g tins doesn’t sound like an insane amount. However, I felt immediately like they were burning a hole in my pocket, or fridge, I suppose. Beyond that, when something good happens to me, I feel like I want it to happen to everyone I love, so having one good party to share my caviar riches with my friends felt only right.

The menu

I began by conceptualizing a few caviar hors d’oeuvres and tried to pair each caviar with them thoughtfully.

Potato chips and crème fraîche are among the most obvious pairings, and for good reason — it’s extremely delicious. I decided to use the Royal Baika for this application, because its salty oceanic qualities held up against the mildly tart creaminess of the crème fraîche. Whenever I serve this, I like to pre-dress a few chips as a suggestion of how to prepare them and then serve all the elements separately so people can assemble their own throughout the night.

My friends are particularly interested in food, so this wasn’t a concern here, but I always think that when serving someone a dish they may not have encountered before or frequently in their life, or anything that requires a bit more assembly, break down or know-how to eat, it’s nice to show people what to do. Having something served to you that causes you to think “I’m not sure how to eat this” can be a uniquely embarrassing feeling, regardless of how normal and human of an experience it is.

I was inspired by these cod nuggets I saw Ben Lippet make, as well as the boiled egg-studded tartar sauce they serve at St. John in London, so I created a blend these ideas by frying up bits of beer-battered cod and topping them with an egg and tarragon-forward tartar sauce and a bit of the Ossetra caviar. Cod can be particularly fishy, so I thought a more balanced caviar would be a nice counter.

My favorite dish of the evening was a silky, custardy French omelette filled with crème fraîche and crushed potato chips and topped with the creamy, briny Daurenki. I make these by crushing up a handful potato chips in a mortar and pestle, then stirring in a spoonful of crème fraîche. The mixture will look horrible, but it will get the job done. From there, I beat three eggs and 1/4 tsp salt per omelette and follow Jacque Pepin’s technique. Dropping a dollop of the crème fraîche and potato chip mixture into the middle before folding is just enough heat to soften and melt the crème fraîche while retaining a light crunch to the potato chips.

My husband made a batch of his beloved freezer martinis to go with everything. This felt classic and crowd-pleasing, as my friends are all at an age where a martini starts sounding really good (just above or below the age of 30).

A decadent-looking cake has a way of conveying the idea of an occasion, so I made one of those too.

The ambiance

Soft lighting and an understated jazz playlist made the evening feel gauzy and festive. I suggested it might be a nice occasion to dress up a little, even though it was just a handful of us sitting around in my living room, and to all our delight, we intuited exactly the same level of formality across the board. There’s something about this marked effort that feels sweetly earnest. As we chatted, someone remarked that it felt like New Years, and I thought that was perfect — a bleary feeling of joy and luck.