2,000 ways with caviar at Kaspia

This review was first published in March 1999

Has anyone decided exactly what they will be doing in 297 days' time? I'm certain there are tens of thousands of Londoners - maybe those who do their advance Christmas shopping during the January sales - who have booked their flights, hotels, country houses, ski chalets, marquees, firework displays ... whatever, and are counting down to M-day. Trouble is, I don't know any of them.

Sure, everyone says: "Oh, yes. We'll fix something." But the "something" never seems to materialise. And time, thank God, is running out.

The only worthwhile plan I've heard comes from Evening Standard wine writer Andrew Jefford who anticipates a small gathering of friends and family. He has, most sensibly, set aside a couple of bottles of fine port, vintage 1900, for the occasion.

Like most revellers, any celebration I join or host will, I hope, involve a few glasses of champagne (any 1990 vintage will be eminently drinkable and later, if all proceeds well, non-vintage will be just dandy). Alongside, I fancy something prehistoric - a taste of Triassic Park.

The sturgeon began strutting its stuff around rivers and freshwater lakes on Earth around 250 million years ago. Yet it was only this century that it gained a price on its head. Huso Huso, Acipenser Guldenstadii or Ancipenser Slellatus provide eggs for us to eat - respectively, beluga, oscietra and sevruga caviar. The mighty belugas from the Caspian Sea can live to be

100, weigh in at a tonne and produce eggs, the caviar, that are 15 per cent of its body weight.

I recently joined a tasting at Kensington Place where caviar importer WG White and Laurent Perrier champagne teamed up for a "mix-and-match" session. Arrayed before us were three 1.8kg tubs of fresh caviar - one of each type - and bottles of Laurent Perrier's Ultra Brut, Brut Vintage 1990 and Grand Siècle "La Cuvée".

Which went best with which? The majority, and most expensive, vote predictably went with beluga and Grand Siècle. But the cheapskate in me (if there is such a thing with caviar) sided with the mellow, nutty, almost cheesy flavour of oscietra set off against the light, delicate and refined Ultra Brut.

London has several caviar restaurants. My favourite is KASPIA in Bruton Place. This is not because the caviar is markedly better but because it has a shop attached and, funds allowing, you can take some home. At best, I can afford an annual pilgrimage.

Widely spaced tables with comfortable chairs, wood-panelled and duck-egg blue walls, and Imperial Russian porcelain and paintings set the scene for elitist dining. The menu evidences little culinary adventure in the kitchen. But that is precisely the point. The idea is to sample dollops of caviar - and not much else. There are soups, a range of smoked fish - eel, trout, sturgeon and salmon - a few salads and an excellent cheeseboard (£6 for a good selection).

My companion and I dodged the beluga at £65 for 30g and, wisely, shared Les Trois Caviars at £99, including VAT and service. In caviar terms this represents a veritable bargain. Half a bowl of good borscht and one pirojki (meat-filled pastry) each is followed by 30g each of pressed caviar, sevruga and oscietra with a choice of toast or pancake-sized blinis. It's fine, delicate eating so don't expect to loosen your belt.

The wine list is short and thin on cheaper bottles. My choice of 1996 Pouilly-Fumé, Patrick Coulbois, at £21 was young, acidic and poorly structured - a misguided leap in the dark. A better target is the list of 40-odd flavoured vodkas. A 2.5cl glass is £2.35, a 25cl carafe £17.75.