In honor of National Caviar Day, I will nibble on fresh Royal Sevruga Sturgeon roe posed delicately atop a cracker, and sip chilled vodka, served neat in Waterford Crystal, as I draft this commemorative note on July 18th’s national day of record. Excuse me a moment as I dab my chin with my monogrammed, linen napkin. Ah, that is better. As I was musing…yes, this tasty gourmet morsel is quite deserving of an entire calendar day in its honor. After all, the gastronomic disaster that is a “hot dog” has its own day. Caviar should rightly be designated a week. But, that is not the topic of this particular missive (note to self: compose a communique on the rationale for “Caviar Week”); the topic at hand is celebrating the tantalizing experience of consuming caviar.
Imagine, if you will, fine delicacies being hand-passed by wait staff adorned in formal attire. A tray of gleaming black, red, and gold caviar pearls is presented for your choosing. You squeal with glee—on the inside of course, you are no heathen—as your fingers gently lift a cracker piled high with the black gold of finger foods. The initial burst of lusciousness on your palate is almost too much pleasure to bear. But you carry on, gleefully following with a sip of crisp, Dom Perignon champagne for an eloquent finish to the delectable delight. Gluttonous? Dangerously close. Better than sex? I’m a proper lady and do not discuss such matters in public company (nods head up and down, ever-so-slightly).
Alas, I must bid you,” Adieu”. I have a charity luncheon to attend, and it would appear dreadfully uncouth if I were to be unpunctual.