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Egging Him On

By Katie Pelech

“It should smell like the ocean.”

Jeremy Driver, chef de cuisine at The Grill in the Ritz-Carlton, is discussing fish eggs in the wistful terms typically reserved for rare memories of true bliss—memories from the good old days when men were men, women were women and no one dared put caviar in the freezer, much less in a can on the shelf.

“It should be chilled, served on ice. The freshness,” he says, waxing enthusiastic, “you can taste it in the eggs as they pop on your tongue.”

For Driver, caviar is far more than gustatory pleasure. It is a food that comes with context, a food so firmly entrenched in our culture that a mere mention conjures up images of luxury: “When I imagine people eating caviar, I think formalwear, crystal chandeliers, orchestra music and people in a ballroom, dancing.”

He first tasted caviar, which he’d always dismissed as a posh novelty treat, at the New England Culinary Institute. But once he’d sampled the main types—osetra, sevruga and beluga—and heard their culinary history, he was hooked. 

Caviar lore centers on the sought-after beluga roe, characterized by its clean, nutty flavor and large, ripe eggs, which range from silvery white to dark gray. It’s harvested exclusively from the white beluga sturgeon, a native of the Caspian Sea whose dwindling numbers recently prompted a ban on beluga-caviar imports. Beluga roe is graded from 0 to 000, with the latter reserved for the most highly sought-after eggs. The grades—and, in turn, the price—are determined by color rather than taste, with the lightest caviar selling for $50 to $200 an ounce. Driver admits that he’d be willing to shell out that kind of cash for an outstanding product, but he doubts it would ever be necessary; those prices, he says, exist more to maintain image than to denote quality.

Driver prefers osetra, serving it with blinis, toast points and boiled eggs. “I break the whites away from the yolks, grate both and serve with chopped chives or parsley, crème fraîche or sour cream, red onions and capers. It’s a social thing, hanging out, making your own canapés, drinking vodka or sipping Champagne.”

With the beluga ban, American strains of caviar, whose definition has been broadened to include the roe of the hackleback, paddlefish and salmon, have risen in popularity. While purists might snub these “fake” caviars, he’s excited by their potential. But will canned caviar that sits next to sardines in your grocery store sully the reputation of the oceanic ambrosia? Driver is flabbergasted by the suggestion.

“It’ll never die in Russia or Iran,” he says. “It’s like lobsters in Maine!” Besides, he adds, “People get the best because they want to be the best—and that will never go away.”

The Crème de la Crème

While there are plenty of reputable caviar sellers out there, for Driver’s money it’s Marky’s, Catsmo or Browne Trading Co. And here are his must-haves for the ultimate tasting.

Osetra Gold: “Crisper in flavor, not too salty ... it’s just the best.”

Beluga 000: “A little bit milder, more buttery in flavor.”

Sevruga: “A little bit smoother in taste. I use them for garnishing.”

Paddlefish: “Not a true sturgeon, but the roe is comparable in size, color and taste to sevruga, and a bit less expensive.”

Hackleback: “It’s a little sweeter and has nutlike properties.”