Bump of caviar anyone?
(Picture: Amelia Allen / Evening Standard)It was Monday at The Hurlingham Club and a group of friends took themselves off to one of the busy corners of the marquee splayed over that famously pristine lawn. Standing in a circle, they took turns scooping a small, shimmering spoon into the open pot in front of them, dug deep and poured the contents onto their clenched fists, raised it to their face… and sucked it into their mouths as a whale might do a particularly fine bit of plankton.
It was the same at the Matches party in April, at Frieze in New York and Diplo was even at it at the Grand Prix. “Bumps” of caviar are to parties today what the chocolate fountain was in the Nineties. The New York Times agrees it’s “all the rage” (“Why are some diners licking fish roe from their fists?” it asked this month).
Is it a fairly self-conscious rejection of propriety, like wearing shorts to a wedding or getting high on Christmas Day? Or a bit of Instagram-friendly fun? Either way, no one can doubt it is a trend at a certain type of party. You only have to look at any glitzy event in London and you’ll see the evidence writ large on Instagram. But it raises questions. Won’t a sweaty mitt despoil those pricey eggs? Was it not yesterday that the caviar-hungry were told — and in no uncertain terms — they had to use a mother-of-pearl spoon? Vulgar, metal spoons were supposed to “tarnish” the eggs. And like, won’t it make you smell like a sturgeon?
With the cost-of-living crisis and the general feeling that the sky is falling in, it arouses fairly strong opinions in people.
Richard Corrigan — chef-owner of the Corrigan Collection, which includes Bentley’s Oyster Bar and Grill — is typically forthright on the matter. “I’m just not a fan. Maybe it’s because I’m a puritanical idiot or maybe it’s because you know the walls of Jericho are falling down around us as we carry on. Things come out of America which should stay in America.
“And you’re talking about a country that doesn’t chew its food. And a place where they prefer hard liquor to a beautiful burgundy. Caviar is there to be loved and beautifully enjoyed,” he says. His prescription for enjoying it properly includes a blini, some sour cream, finely grated warm egg and some minutely chopped shallots.
Not everyone sees it as Corrigan does, however. Raphaelle Simmons, the UK managing director of Petrossian, the country’s foremost purveyor of caviar which recently opened a “caviar lab” in Chessington, is less censorious.
“I think this whole trend is more theatrics, actually. It reminds me of the whole craze about doing tequila shots with salt and lime. Personally, I would recommend against it because caviar is very susceptible to oxidation. It happens the moment you open the tin. It’s best to only keep it for 24 hours. Putting it on your skin means it oxidises even more. Also, your skin has all sorts of tastes which will be absorbed. Use plastic or bamboo, it will be better.”
Ben Tish serves about 30 portions of his famous devilled eggs with caviar every week at his Marylebone outpost, The Coach Makers Arms. “I think it is a bit ridiculous, to be honest. It’s just a social media thing, isn’t it? You know, and I’m sorry, I don’t approve of it. The point is, you want to keep the egg whole and messing about putting them on your hand — well, you are in danger of breaking up the eggs.”
In the interests of science, I try bumping some Petrossian Ossetra and Steluga caviar — kindly supplied by Simmons — and again using one of their dainty mother-of-pearl spoons — not a usual occurrence in my Hackney flat.
The spoon is first up and the briny, rich eggs burst in my mouth like little drops of sea water. Then the bump. That same explosion, that same richness, that pricey loveliness, only this time with a side order of… sweat. It was 26 degrees out and I had forgotten to wash my hands. I think I’ll stick with the spoon if you don’t mind.
