Your Guide to Splurging on Caviar
Plus, two affordable-ish caviars you probably haven't tried, thoughts on a meal at Corima, and reviews of some new edibles from Lost Farm
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Let’s all eat more caviar
“Cocaine is God's way of telling you you're making too much money,” Robin Williams famously proclaimed. One could make the same argument about caviar, the salt-cured eggs of a regal sturgeon. Once you develop a taste for the stuff, it will drain your wallet quickly.
Restaurants are happy to oblige in this regard. Sometimes that means an excellent caviar course. But more often these days, it means “bumps” and supplements to jack up your bill — and to attract TikTok views. It’s a reality that could make something as “rarefied” as caviar seem “ordinary,” NY Mag’s Tammie Teclemariam wrote last week. She’s right. And that’s too bad, because good caviar is truly special.
An oyster tastes like an oyster and a scallop tastes like a scallop, but roe is an edible abstraction, the force and flavor of the sea transformed into a tiny pearl.
I love baerii caviar, as black as an ink well. I love ossetra, as gold as a Laker’s jersey. I love tobiko, flying fish roe that crunches like a shard of ice on a cold vodka martini.
When an old lady curses her sister in “Moonstruck,” wishing that the “green water of the Atlantic should swallow her up,” I improbably start thinking of shassetra, voluptuous roe with a turquoise hue. And I feel my mouth filling up with seawater.
But most of all, caviar reminds me of my time as a student in Moscow, when I’d queue up for 30 minutes in front of an epic street vendor. I went there for “krasnaya ikra” — literally: red caviar — wrapped up in papery blini. The warmth of the pancake was like a jolt of electricity to the pearls, turning them into little grenades of brine and oil. I’d gobble up my snack outside at sunset, while snowflakes fell from the grey sky.
I wish we were all eating more red caviar — at least outside of sushi spots, where it’s quite common (and delicious). This undervalued stuff is more affordable than sturgeon roe, and it’s a luxury in its own right.
Good salmon roe trembles like barely set panna cotta; it packs powerful notes of the ocean. Trout roe is milder yet firmer; it pops with the force of bubble wrap. But in both cases, the flavors are louder than with black caviar, where you sometimes need to close your eyes and meditate to realize it’s even there.
This brings us to Simon Kim’s Coqodaq, a rare high-end spot to offer trout roe as an alternative to traditional caviar. A small dollop of the stuff garnishes a chicken nugget. Cost: $16. But whether it’s actually a compelling splurge is another matter, because the price is literally for a single nugget.
Those who opt for the black variety will spend $28 per nugget. Like I said, caviar can drain your wallet.
The case for caviar at home
At too many restaurants, caviar isn’t really a luxury; it’s expensive salt. It’s photogenic salt. It’s a small dab of roe on nigiri sushi. It’s an afterthought of a garnish for beef tartare.
You won’t get anyone to fall in love with caviar by serving them just a bite or two. And while full-fledged caviar service — with blini and 30 grams of roe — allows for more guaranteed fun — that option will easily set you back well over $200.
This is all why I generally prefer to eat caviar the same way I like to eat tinned fish — at home.
Now, the good news is that you can still find whimsical, creative caviar dishes at New York restaurants; I write about a few of them further below. But here’s the thing: Most restaurants don’t really “add value” to the caviar they serve.
They simply serve it.
Caviar isn’t like cooking a $180 steak to a precise temperature, laboring for hours to make mole negro, learning to slice Iberico, or sourcing a rare allocation wine. The caviar you try in a restaurant is the same stuff you get at your local purveyor, at a place like Petrossian, Paramount, or Russ & Daughters.
And while my own apartment doesn’t have the same buzz as a swank hotspot, one of the best parts of eating caviar at home is not paying a markup for the privilege of having someone else throw a thimble’s worth of roe onto a tater tot.
With caviar at home, you pay less and you get more, with no degradation in quality. You simply grab a spoon and start eating. No instructions necessary. And remember: when you buy caviar at a good retailer, you’re not paying 20 percent tip, or even sales tax, because caviar is tax-free outside of restaurants.
But enough Suttonomics for now. Let’s talk about the tasty stuff. This is the first of what will hopefully be many LO Times caviar guides. Scroll down for an original-ish recipe, a few caviar suggestions, thoughts on THC with fish roe, and some tasty restaurant caviar dishes. Enjoy!
Behind the paywall: Your Definitive Caviar Guide, Part I
Original recipe: How to make an amazing trout roe sandwich
Two Petrossian caviars you should try (but probably haven’t)
A few notes on the $55 caviar hand roll at Sixty Three Clinton
Lost Farm’s excellent THC edibles: NYC flavors reviewed
A few notes on the Modern Mexican tasting menu at Corima
How much fish roe you’ll need for a caviar night at home