Lille Allen/Eater
Nothing is a greater mic drop than showing up with a tin of caviar
Time was, my signature party move was to show up with a box full of Taco Bell’s Doritos Locos tacos. It didn’t matter how many fancy canapes were on display, or how elaborate the charcuterie board or dress code; I never once encountered a gathering too chic for the siren song of a few dozen cheesy-shelled fast food tacos.
But I’ve grown since then — matured, some (strangers) might say. And lately I’ve found a new way to induce a dinner party mic-drop with minimal effort: a tiny tin of caviar.
Caviar? How novel… I know you’re thinking. Hear me out.
Tinned fish is so 2023. Grazing boards? Cute, I remember my first time on TikTok. But caviar is neither played out nor obscure. It’s tinned fish-adjacent but not yet entirely mainstream (not for long though; Fishwife just launched its own, and apparently you can find it on Quince now?), and its vibe is so 20th-century-cliche-fancy that it borders on retro-nouveau.
While it’s not as cheap as Taco Bell, I’m not suggesting you bring Royal Ossetra, either. There are all kinds of domestic caviars on the market now — Hasselbacks, Paddlefish, and the like — that are highly rated, delicious, come in dainty jars, and will set you back less than the three blocks of Whole Foods cheese you were going to bring, or even the Uber to the party. And honestly, if someone calls you out for bringing bowfin instead of beluga, you’re at the wrong party.
Think of it this way: If time is money, then the hours you spent baking or braising or artfully arranging something that delivered a similar impact would cost helluva lot more than even a few ounces of the splurgy stuff. Plus, there’s something about using a tiny spoon to heap fish eggs on a potato chip that makes everyone else at the party feel like they’ve stepped up a tax bracket or two. Suddenly, Sunday supper at Kristen’s feels like a scene straight out of Succession.
But more importantly, plunking a tin of caviar and a bag of Lay’s on the table makes you look like an absolute baller — a sigma, to use the modern parlance probably incorrectly. Sure, Jeff brought some prosciutto and Kelly worked on that Basque cheesecake for hours, but it’s your effortless contribution to the spread that will be the most memorable thing about that party (unless Kelly starts hitting the mezcal, because you know Kelly…). Bolster your cred by bringing along a little tub of creme fraiche; I’d say you could also include a 16-pack of chicken nuggets for scooping it upon, but you risk someone passing out from the thrill.
I cannot reiterate the point enough: this consciousness-shattering impression was achieved with the same effort I put into organizing my fridge condiments (zero) or buying my niece a birthday gift (one click, 24 hours in advance). If it’s the thought that counts, merely thinking of caviar really is the ultimate gift. And I don’t know about you but I can (and do!) think about all sorts of things all day. I can’t always find the time to run six errands and cook a thing for my friend’s boyfriend’s roommate’s shindig.
So go ahead, do the least. Be the most. You can always hit Taco Bell on the way home.
