My thoughts on caviar--yes, caviar!

 

My caviar appetizer
For a long time now, I’ve beenwanting to do appetizers with caviar—no, not just because it’s ritzy and soundssophisticated. I genuinely like it. The New York Times occasionally hasrecipes for dishes with caviar, like a caviar and cream cheese sandwich. I don’tknow—that might be a bit much. I think caviar does best as an accent on a dish.But it’s expensive, even the cheap stuff—and my palate doesn’t know any better.But tonight, we were celebrating Subie’s birthday, so I tried something I’vebeen wanting to: potato chips with seasoned sour cream and a dab of caviar. Ihave to confess, that was my supper. I ate a lot more than anyone else, and myhonest assessment is that the flavors go together to well. The salty caviar isbalanced by the sour cream and the whole things tops a potato chip almostperfectly. Almost.

I laboriously sat in Jordan’skitchen, spooning sour cream onto potato chips— “Only unbroken ones,” shecautioned me, so I told Christian he could eat all the broken ones. I used mymarrow spoon for that—another sign of my supreme sophistication. I mean,really, how many people do you know who own a marrow spoon? For that matter,how many people do you know who will eat bone marrow? Back to the caviar: thewide end of the spoon worked well for the sour cream, and I switched to thetiny narrow end for the caviar. Now, I have never been known for steady hands,and age has brought a slight tremor. So, I used my “good” right hand—still, whatI intended as a neat small dollop of caviar ended up as a spray on the chip.And some ended on the counter—Christian scooped it up with a sponge, which Iconsidered a great waste. Someone with steadier hands could have made it look alot prettier. And the recipe said for the holiday season to use red salmon roe.That’s about twice as expensive as the low-grade black—I got black. Sometime I’dlike to taste really good caviar, just to see if I could tell the difference.

A marrow spoon

Subie and I loved the chips. I don’tthink Phil voiced an opinion, and I know Christian, who can sometimes thesedays be adventurous, was not so tonight and didn’t taste them. To my surprise,Jordan must have tried one, because she voiced what I had found: when you putthe sour cream on the chip twenty or thirty minutes before serving, the chipgets soggy, at least in the middle where the sour cream is. The ideal would besomehow to make it self-serve, with small pots of sour cream and caviar. I have some left over, anda friend who probably doesn’t mind leftovers is coming one night soon. I’llexperiment with technique. And I guess I’ll use the marrow spoon again.

Writing this has made me think ofmy caviar memories. I did not grow up eating it. I think my introduction came the night my parents took my newhusband and me to the Kungsholm in Chicago, over fifty years ago now. The Kungsholmwas one of my favorite restaurants—a true Swedish smorgasbord, generous withsuch wonders as caviar and smoked salmon and marinated herring and all thosethings I love. After dinner, guests were invited to a puppet theater whereminiature operas were performed. The puppets were on automated tracks, and I’mnot sure how they did the sound, but it was glorious. If you ask me how I knowabout Dr. Faustus, I’ll say the Kungsholm. Unfortunately, the restaurant closed years ago.

But I have to be honest here: myparents were not exactly thrilled about my marriage to a Jewish boy from theBronx, one who had never been taught much about manners and society and all thethings that made my dad’s professional world go around. In Joel’s defense, he madecorrecting that a big project and quickly learned from Dad everything fromtable manners to gardening. But that night at the Kungsholm, he was delightedto have caviar. He kept going back for more until my mother said quite aloud, “I’venever seen anyone eat so much caviar.” Joel’s family were eastern Europeanimmigrants and poor, so I don’t know how much caviar he had as a child. But hehad similar foods, such as the herring and a marinated eggplant salad, etc.Anyway, that night is one of my fonder memories of him.

For over forty years, I threw ahuge Christmas party, inviting sometimes a hundred of my nearest and dearest.It started small in the sixties and kept growing, at first with Joel but afterhe left, I kept up the tradition, with new friends. And one of the dishes Iaways served had a seasoned cream cheese base with caviar, chopped onion, andchopped egg spread over it. Gosh, how I loved that. Today I don’t know if I caneven find the recipe—and I certainly have no occasion for a spread that big. ButI’d love to make it again.

I often talk about this last stageof life (the Third Stage, if you will) being filled with treasured memories.Tonight reminds me that caviar is one of those memories. And I’m not going togive it up. There’s more potato chips, sour cream, and caviar in my future. Yours?