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“Honestly,¡¯ she said when they were out of Bruce¡¯s earshot, ¡®he¡¯s as bad in the kitchen as you are. What do you people do on the servant¡¯s night off, anyway?¡¯ Lila looked Jessica straight in the eye. 'Cold lobster and caviar,¡¯ she said earnestly.”
― Francine Pascal, Perfect Summer

“Caviar. How very nice of them," Carol said, looking inside a sandwich. "Do you like caviar?" "No. I wish I did." "Why?" Therese watched Carol take a small bite of the sandwich from which she had removed the top slice of bread, a bit where the most caviar was. "Because people always like caviar so much when they do like it," Therese said. Carol smiled, and went on nibbling, slowly. "It's an acquired taste. Acquired tastes are always more pleasant--and hard to get rid of.”
― Patricia Highsmith

“A little of this caviar finds its way to the fish restaurants around Istanbul's Taksim Square, but the bulk is sent on to the United Arab Emirates to be enjoyed by wealthy Westerners and Arabs in the preposterous hotels that have set new standards in unnecessary opulence.”
― Misha Glenny, McMafia: Seriously Organised Crime

“From the darkest beluga to the golden almas, creamy and subtle, to the osetra, with its hint of walnuts and cream, to the small gray eggs of the sevruga, with its overwhelming flavor of the sea, Escoffier fed Sarah a universe of moons. And she, in turn, met each kiss that was deeper than the last.”
― N.M. Kelby, White Truffles in Winter

“Physically, Manya was both appealing and aristocratic in her bearing. It wasn't her copious white hair that attracted men, her flawless white skin, her billowing breasts, but the innate womanliness that emanated from her. Even when she wore her cooking clothes- a mammoth Hoover apron that she slipped on over her head and tied around a baggy dress or her cardigan sweater, a dull brown thing appropriate for shopping- she exuded a sympathetic femininity.
Many didn't give much thought to her appearance. More often than not she washed her face and body with the brown kosher soap that contained no fat from forbidden animals, and wrapped her hair in a haphazard bun held together with several large imitation-turquoise hairpins. Her cooking shoes were splattered with chicken and goose fat, bits and oddments of duck, salmon roe, even calves' brains. Because she had been raised on the Black Sea, she loved caviar, so every now and then a glistening bead would fall upon her well-fed shoes. The smell of food on her body made her no less alluring.”
― Eleanor Widmer, Up from Orchard Street

“The salmon is perfectly cooked. The trace amounts of sugar contained in the wheat flour have combined with the butter in a chemical reaction that's creating a wonderful fragrance. It was all fried together for precisely the right amount of time to create a superb Meuni¨¨re."
"The squid liver was quickly saut¨¦ed in a dollop of butter as well, taking a bite of that with the Meuni¨¨re is sublime! The butter's flavor gently wraps around the salty and pleasantly bitter taste of the liver, giving it a beautifully mellow body."
"He added pomegranate seeds and tonburi to the soy sauce marinated roe! Those three completely disparate flavors meld into a seamless whole thanks to butter! Not only does it have an amusing texture, the roe doesn't have its typical greasiness either!"
*Tonburi, also called land caviar, is the seeds of the summer cypress plant. It's texture is similar to caviar.*
He's used mounds of butter in so many different facets of the dish, but it somehow hasn't made the flavor heavy at all. The secret to that lies in the bed of special sushi rice hidden underneath the seafood!
"This sushi rice was made not with vinegar but with orange juice and lemon juice!"
"So that's why he was squeezing that mountain of oranges!"”
― Yuto Tsukuda, ʳꪤΥ½©`¥Þ 28 [Shokugeki no Souma 28]

“Fish roe and butter makes for a truly exquisite pairing! By adding butter to pollock roe, with its clusters of firm little orbs just like miniature egg yolks, you take away any unpleasant fishiness from the roe, instead producing a sauce with an inexplicable fullness of taste that forms a perfect coating for the carbohydrates, setting off their plumpness and texture like a dream. Perhaps best of all is the pretty pink hue of the roe, like a gorgeous spring evening (you may know by now that pink is my favorite color!). The butter and rosy-colored roe combination coats each and every spaghetti strand, bringing out that delicious semolina scent and generating a flavor that feels like a wave of kindness rising up uncontrollably from inside your chest.”
― Asako Yuzuki, Butter

“My mother said my father walked out that time, the final time, because she had spent eight hundred dollars at the French Hen in Manchester- she'd special-ordered lox and toro and paddlefish caviar- and he wanted her to be miserable.”
― Jessica Soffer, Tomorrow There Will Be Apricots

“He passed the rutabaga and duck terrine toward me with the tips of his fingers. "Isn't this a little odd?"
I wanted to like it, I did. I pushed the ingredients around with my knife and fork, trying to understand it and formulate an opinion.
Then Felix swooped in. "Oh, miss. Pardon me, I was helping another table. That's supposed to be served with something else." He looked at Michael Saltz sheepishly, and Michael Saltz turned his toupeed head away. "We added this dish today, and I'm still getting used to serving it. The proper preparation includes just a bit of truffle."
He took out a fist-size beige knot from underneath a white napkin. The shavings rained down in ruffled, translucent strands. Felix backed away as I poked my fork through the tangle of truffles, into the terrine.
I had read about truffles- their taste, their hormonal, almost sexual aromas, their exorbitant cost- but I had never even seen a truffle in person before, and had a hard time understanding why people paid thousands of dollars an ounce for something so humble-looking.
But at Tellicherry, I understood. I melted in my chair.
"Mmm..." I couldn't stop saying it. "Mmmm."
Michael Saltz, excited too, picked up a large pinch of truffle shavings and held them to his nose. "These are very good. The finest."
"Oh God," I said, in a state of delirium. "This makes the dish so much better. Why aren't truffles on everything?" I had forgotten about the funky terrine. Now it was just a vehicle for the magical urgings of the truffle.
A few minutes later, Felix came out again. "Here's your next dish, potato pearls with black, green, and crimson caviar in a cauliflower cream nage."
The caviar shined like little jewels among the equal-sized potatoes. They bobbed around in the soup, glistening as if illuminated from within. I took a spoonful and in surged a soft, sweet ribbon of cauliflower essence. I popped the caviar eggs one by one. Pop, went one, a silken fishiness. Pop, went another, a sharp, tangy brine. Pop, went a seductive one, dark and mysterious and deep.”
― Jessica Tom, Food Whore

“I loved the counter filled with lox, whitefish, sturgeon. Saperstein looked like a sturgeon, long, white, sharp-toothed. I marveled at the way he wielded his razor-sharp knife. Cutting a bit of translucent smoked sturgeon, you expected it to shred if you breathed on it.
Manya achieved status as his sturgeon expert. She had grown up with sturgeon, a staple along the Black Sea, and she pronounced a sample too salty, too mealy from being packed in ice, too strong in flavor, or absolutely perfect. Saperstein, a purist, inevitably felt sad that his customers did not truly appreciate his top-of-the-line products. He communed with Bubby over a slice of sturgeon or belly lox as if having a religious moment.
Even when bad weather kept customers away from our restaurant and we were low in cash, Bubby invested in a few slices of smoked sturgeon, not for her customers, but for our family. She could ignore lox, smoked whitefish, pickles or fresh herring, but she couldn't do without a weekly treat of sturgeon. To prove that he was a sporting man who approved of her taste, Saperstein created a cone from white paper and dropped in some caviar, which he kept in a tin secreted in a hole under the counter- God forbid during a robbery, the thieves would never discover his hiding place.”
― Eleanor Widmer, Up from Orchard Street

“They ordered all the things they'd never eaten before, things from the sea: Venus clams and whelks, potatoes pressed with caviar, champagne and Chambertin, Rex finally pulling the waiter aside and asking for more caviar, making a bowl with his giant hands, the best caviar he'd ever eaten, and by god, he wanted his fill.
They would eat caviar all across the city that week, in fine restaurants and caf¨¦s and bistros, mounded in ice bowls, from tiny ivory spoons, spread on toast, on blinis, on eggs and potatoes, but Rex would always return to that first night, his first bite, and how he would never have another as good.”
― Ashley Warlick, The Arrangement

“Oh my gosh! Lobster, foie gras and caviar too?! This dish is packed with super-expensive ingredients!
And that's not just any caviar either...
it's almas!"
Roe harvested from the rare Albino Beluga Sturgeon is given the title Almas, which means "diamond" in Arabic.
For centuries, only kings got to taste this luxury-grade caviar. Even now, it's so pricey the smallest tins of it go for tens of thousands of yen apiece.”
― Yuto Tsukuda, ʳꪤΥ½©`¥Þ 31 [Shokugeki no Souma 31]

“Pinky Fein, a friend of Oscar's, owns the Gilded Lily, a four-star Midtown restaurant renowned for its beggar purses- paper-thin crepes filled with cr¨¦me fra?che and Beluga caviar, tied into small bundles with chives, lightly sprayed with edible gold leaf, and presented like candles in a candelabra.”
― Hannah Mccouch, Girl Cook: A Novel

“The train of thought went like this: I scribbled down the most "sophisticated" foods I could think of. Foie gras. Truffles. Expensive wine. Caviar. Ib¨¦rico ham. The one that struck a chord with my Jewish brain was caviar. Caviar served with blinis, little pancakes hailing from eastern Europe. In Russia they served blinis with caviar and sour cream. But even if I could make a hundred and fifteen blinis in the time allowed (since we had to make a few extras for beauty shots and mistakes), I couldn't just serve them with caviar and sour cream. That wasn't transformative enough. Original enough.
What else was served with blinis? I tapped my pen thoughtfully against my Chef Supreme notepad. We were getting to the end of our planning session, and the way the others around me were nodding and whispering to themselves was making me nervous. Sadie, they all know exactly what they're doing, and you don't, I thought to myself. And then I nodded, confirming it.
Jam. Blinis were served sweet-style with jam. But even if I made my own jam, that wouldn't be enough. I needed a wow factor. What if... what if I made sweet blinis, but disguised them as savory blinis? Ideas ran through my head as we were driven to the grocery store. I wasn't hugely into molecular gastronomy, but even I knew how to take a liquid or an oil and turn it into small gelatinous pearls not unlike fish eggs. I could take jam, thin it out, and turn it into caviar. Then what would be my sour cream? A sweetened mascarpone whip? And then I needed something to keep all the sweetness from becoming overwhelming. I'd have to make the jam nice and tart. And maybe add a savory element. A fried sage leaf? That would be interesting...”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“CAVIAR WHOLESALER”
― Ronnie

“The first course arrived before we'd even ordered anything. A potato chip on a tiny plate, heaped with glistening black pearls of caviar, topped with a spoonful of something creamy and white and speckled with something else pale and yellow. I loved caviar. This would be exciting if this single potato chip didn't probably cost, like, twenty dollars. "Bottoms up."
Even though I wasn't technically reviewing this place---not my brand---I couldn't help but analyze the bite as I crunched down. The potato chip was one of the best potato chips I'd ever had, and let me tell you, I know my potato chips---it was shatteringly crunchy but not hard, still crispy beneath its layers of toppings, salty and savory and a little oily without being overly so. The white cream on top was rich and sour, the shavings of hard-boiled egg yolk on top softening its tart edges. But the star of the dish was the caviar, and it didn't disappoint. Each little bubble burst on my tongue with the essence of the sea itself.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“The dusky-pink pollock roe she removed from its polystyrene packaging gleamed wetly and, for an instant, the image of Kaiji's puckered lips passed through her mind. Leaving its outer skin on, she broke up the roe with a fork and mixed it unfussily into the spaghetti. She sliced off a knob of the Calpis with a knife and perched it on top, then watched as the pale-yellow solid gently began to change color, spreading out to the sides and turning golden, mingling with the fish eggs. The full, milky aroma of the butter married with the salty marine tang of the roe as the scent of the dish went rising up to her face, and she breathed it deeply into her lungs. She garnished the pasta with a scattering of shiso leaves she'd torn up with her fingers, then moved the bowl of pasta over to her cardboard box. There was a rosy-cheeked frankness about the pink of the roe, and in combination with the oozing butter, it looked positively carefree. Rika tool up her fork and wound up the spaghetti, before lifting it to her mouth.
Cloaked in a coating of minuscule fish eggs and butter, the spaghetti strands sprang around Rika's tongue as if in excitement. The dish was adequately salted, but there was a relaxed, mellow quality to its taste. What a wonderful combination pollock roe and butter made!”
― Asako Yuzuki, Butter

“The USA taxes caviar, why can¡¯t we tax kernels!”
― Dipti Dhakul, Quote: +/-