771052 投稿者:
Blanche 投稿日:2024/12/06(Fri) 22:06
No.55905
An invitation to lunch at Caviar Kaspia was, once upon a time, an offer you
simply didn't refuse. Providing, of course, that the
bill was on someone else. Because caviar, smeared on blinis or
piled high on baked potatoes, sure didn't come cheap. There may have been other things on the menu, but no
one paid them much heed. This was all about lashings of the
black stuff.
Caviar Kaspia's signature baked potato and caviar: ‘there are few better dishes on earth…only the price, at just under 」150, is ridiculous'
Caviar Kaspia popped her final tin about two decades
back. And that site, hidden down a smart Mayfair mews, was
taken over by Gavin Rankin (who used to be the boss), and transformed into the brilliant Bellamy's.
It prospers to this day. Kaspia, on the other hand, went quiet.
Until last year, when she reopened as a members' club in another Mayfair backstreet.
But a 」2,000 a year membership fee proved hard to swallow,
meaning the doors were opened to the great unwashed.
Which is how we find ourselves sitting in a rather handsome - albeit near
empty - dining room, lusciously lavish, under the stern gaze
of a stern painting of a very stern man. The soft, crepuscular gloom is broken up by
the glare of table lamps, indecorously bright, while a loud
soundtrack of indolent, indeterminate beats throbs in the
background. The whole place is scented with gilded ennui.
Our fellow diners are two young South Korean women of pale, luminescent beauty, clad in diaphanous couture.
They don't speak, rather communicate entirely via
camera phone. Pose, click, check, filter, post. Immaculate waiters hover in the shadows.
We sip ice-cold vodka, and eat a 」77 caviar and smoked-salmon Kaspia croque monsieur that tastes far better than it ought to.
Next door, a large table fills with a glut of the noisily,
glossily confident.
We're looked after by a wonderful French lady of such effervescent charm and charisma that
had she burst into an impromptu performance of ‘Willkommen', we would have
barely blinked. Baked potatoes, skin as crisp as parchment, insides whipped savagely hard with butter and sour
cream, are a study in tuber art. A cool jet-black splodge of
oscietra caviar, gently saline, raises them to the sublime.
Only the price, at just under 」150 each, is ridiculous.
But there are few better dishes on earth. I'd eat this every day if I could.
But I can't. Obviously. That's the problem with caviar.
One taste is never enough.
About 」200 per head. Caviar Kaspia, 1a Chesterfield Street,
London W1; caviarkaspialondon.com
★★★★✩
?
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