You scan the menu at the latest NYC hotspot. Caviar pasta, caviar pizza. Caviar fried chicken. Then it gets progressively unhinged — stacked onto burgers, dolloped onto a dirty vodka martini. Later, you open your phone to find Bethenny Frankel hosting “Caviar University” on your FYP, educating the masses on roe rankings and what’s “worth it.”
Eggs and blinis still exist, but how expected. Rihanna eats hers atop McDonald’s nuggets. Your friends are layering it onto crème fraîche–laden potato chips on a casual Tuesday. Influencers are taking things further: caviar Flaming Hot Cheetos, caviar on gas station potato skins. It’s high-low at its most absurd. Caviar is no longer about old money discretion; it’s about indulgence on your own terms. A little unhinged, a little ironic, and a lot of fun.
