Beluga

Beluga (Huso Huso Sturgeon)

If Caspi has one product that says everything about what we believe, it's this one.

The word caviar itself comes from Persian, from a phrase meaning roughly "egg-bearing fish." Long before it became a symbol of luxury tables in Paris or New York, beluga (Huso huso) was known in Iran as fīl-māhī, elephant fish, named for its size, and it was the Caspian Sea, bordered by Iran, that first gave the world this roe. That history matters to us, even as we work with sturgeon raised today on carefully managed farms rather than caught wild. The story of where this fish comes from doesn't disappear just because the method changed. It just means we get to protect that story going forward instead of taking it from the sea.

Texture is where beluga sets itself apart immediately. The eggs carry a soft outer membrane that gives way the moment they meet warmth, melting almost instantly, with nothing to chew. That's different from some other well known caviars, like Osetra, which holds a firmer bite and is often chosen specifically because it stands up well in sauces without breaking. Beluga isn't built for that. It's built to disappear on the tongue, more like cream than roe.

Taste follows a similar logic. What comes through first, especially when it's fresh, is a rich, nutty umami depth rather than anything sharply oceanic. The sea is there in the background, quiet and unmistakable, but it never leads. What leads is that warm, almost buttery fullness that lingers after each spoonful. Ours stays especially mild, because the feed we give our sturgeon is designed to echo the natural conditions of the Caspian Sea, the waters this species has called home for generations, so the flavor stays close to where it began.

That richness comes at a cost few people think about. A beluga sturgeon can take fifteen to twenty years, sometimes longer, before it's ready to give us its eggs, and every one of those years needs consistent, uninterrupted care. Water quality, feed, temperature, patience, none of it can slip for even a season. What you're really paying for isn't a label. It's two decades of steady attention from people who never stopped showing up for this fish, long before it ever became something you could taste.

Our tip when you try it for the first time: don't rush it. Let it sit for a moment before you do anything. It'll melt on its own, in seconds, and what's left behind is closer to a quiet symphony than a single flavor. Blink and you'll miss it. That's exactly the point.