8.ece
The Independent
December 28, 2007
Caviar: The black market in black gold
The sturgeon is so endangered that catching the pre-historic fish has
been banned. But that won’t stop Russia’s richest from enjoying their
traditional New Year’s treat.
Shaun Walker reports on the growing hunger for contraband caviar
Published: 28 December 2007
One morning in September, a Tupolev aeroplane touched down at a
military airbase outside Moscow, where security is so tight that
police are not allowed without permission.
But the interior ministry, acting on a tip-off, were waiting for this
plane and, together with several security service operatives, burst on
board as soon as it came to a halt. Arresting the passengers, they
went immediately to several suitcases stored in the hold of the plane
and found them stuffed with valuable contraband.
A crime ring involving gangs in several cities, smugglers and military
insiders had been busted. But the cargo wasn’t heroin, diamonds or
weapons – it was fish. To be precise, it was black caviar, the salty
roe of the sturgeon – the fish that lives in the waters of the Caspian
Sea, and whose numbers have become so depleted that its roe was banned
>From sale in Russia this year.
Its black market price has soared, police are cracking down on its
illegal sale, and millions of Russians are left with the prospect of
celebrating New Year’s Eve without one of the most prized delicacies
associated with the celebration. The holiday in Russia is the
equivalent of Christmas in Britain- a time when families gather at
home, exchange presents around the tree, and eat their most
extravagant feast of the year.
Shots of vodka are chased down with sickly sweet Russian champagne,
and the tables heave with mayonnaise-infused salads, pickles and cold
cuts.
And for many families, in pride of place is a small tin of black
caviar. Caviar is regarded as one of the ultimate luxuries across the
world – the food of tsars and shahs, and not something mere mortals
would want to spend hard-earned cash on. In the Soviet Union too,
caviar was a carefully controlled state monopoly. Neatly piled on top
of small pancakes, thinly spread atop a thick layer of butter on
slices of white bread, or quaffed straight from the pot with a spoon,
it was available only to top-level functionaries. But when the Soviet
Union broke up, more people got in on the act.
Poaching started not just for personal use but for sale. The WWF (the
former World Wildlife Fund) estimates that about 10 times more
sturgeon was caught illegally than was caught officially according to
quotas set to protect the sturgeon’s dwindling numbers. Criminal gangs
began operating in and around Astrakhan, Russia’s main Caspian port.
Shadowy figures arrived at villages to buy caviar from locals. They in
turn sold it on to their bosses, who arranged for transport to Moscow.
"Poaching is as much a social and psychological problem as it is a
criminal one," says Alexei Vaisman of the WWF. "A whole generation has
grown up knowing no other life."
With the increase in poaching, caviar suddenly became an affordable
luxury for Russians. A kilo, which might cost several thousand pounds
in Europe, was available in Russia for £200 or less.
It was still fairly expensive in comparison with salaries, and
definitely a food for special occasions rather than everyday
consumption, but it was priced within reasonable limits. In fact,
according to Mr Vaisman, research shows that the majority of black
caviar consumed in Russia was eaten by ordinary Russian families
allowing themselves a treat for special occasions.
A few years ago, £20 could get you a tin – albeit a tiny one – of
black caviar; even a tin of beluga, the rarest and priciest variety.
So, while no oligarch’s birthday bash or elite party was complete
without overflowing plates of caviar, it was also a must-have product
for more modest celebrations, and a special treat to have at New Year.
The sturgeon is a relic species that has survived since the time of
the dinosaurs, but it has been overfished to the brink of extinction.
Some individuals live for more than 100 years, but they can take 15
years to reach breeding age. The dwindling population has been on the
cards for many years.
But Russians had more important things to worry about than a species
of fish being poached to extinction. A recent survey found that only
eight per cent of respondents said they felt that people shouldn’t eat
black caviar for ethical reasons.
"They think, ‘I’ll just buy one little tin for New Year; what harm can
one tin do?’" said Mr Vaisman. But this year, they will have to do
without. Since 1 August, there has been a blanket ban on all
commercial fishing of sturgeon. Now, the only black caviar legally
produced in Russia is the tiny amount produced from a few fish at
sturgeon reproductive centres on the Caspian shores. And most of this
is sent for export to ensure maximum profit.
"Almost all the caviar sold in Moscow is illegal," says Andrei
Pilipchuk, of the interior ministry’s department for economic
security, which fights organised crime. His department raided a
central Moscow market last week and seized more than 300kg of caviar
>From poached sturgeon. "Not only is it illegal, but also a health
hazard," he says. "We did analysis on it and it contains all sorts of
different bugs."
Mr Pilipchuk says that the criminal structures involved with the
caviar trade can be compared in stature to drugs mafias. "It’s a
well-organised and well-financed operation," he says. The caviar
police use speedboats and helicopters to track down poachers. In the
summer, two of their agents died when a boat chase led them into a
storm.
But now, sturgeon stocks in the Caspian are so low that even poachers
are having a hard time of it. "It’s so difficult to find sturgeon,
that it’s becoming unprofitable for the poachers for the first time,"
says Mr Vaisman. By some estimates there are less than 1,000 beluga
sturgeon left in the entire sea, and few sturgeon of any variety that
have matured to caviar-bearing age.
It could be the end of an affinity between caviar and Russians that
goes back centuries. Initially, sturgeon roe was peasant food, scooped
>From the belly of the plentiful fish by poor villagers living on the
shores of the Caspian. But gradually it became a symbol of wealth and
aristocracy; a delicacy reserved for tsars and aristocrats. In the
early 18th century, Tsar Peter I the Great was said to have sent Louis
XV a consignment, but the French King was so disgusted by the taste
that he spat it out on the carpet at Versailles.
It was only in the hedonistic 1920s that Europe at large fell for
caviar when, naturally, Russians provided a vanguard for the new
taste. As aristocratic émigrés fled the Bolshevik revolution and found
their way to Paris, the city became a hotbed of avant-garde Russian
culture. Sergei Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes and Igor Stravinsky’s
compositions were the talk of the town as the années folles, the crazy
years, were in full swing.
Depressed by news that their ancestral homeland was being overrun by
vulgar proletarians, the White Russians did their best to recreate the
life of the tsarist gentry in the French capital. One thing was
missing – caviar. This was remedied by two brothers of Armenian
descent who had been born on one side of the sturgeon-bearing Caspian
in Iran, and raised on the Russian side.
Melkoum and Mouchegh Petrossian had emigrated after the revolution to
Paris to continue legal studies but, unable to join French schools,
they needed a cunning scheme to make money, and they spotted an
opening. They pestered the Soviet embassy to sell them caviar and,
eventually, the diplomats relented and arranged for a shipment of the
black eggs to arrive in Paris. The Petrossians bought it for a
suitcase of francs – hard currency the Soviets badly needed.
Initially, the French were distinctly unimpressed by the salty, fishy
eggs, and the first customers were the White Russian émigrés, who
could be found enjoying a spot of beluga at the Petrossians’ shop on
the Quay d’Orsay and the Caviar Kaspia restaurant. But soon the craze
took off and, in the intervals of concerts and shows, Paris high
society could be found shovelling spoonfuls of caviar, sold from
stands in the foyer. Today, Petrossian is still a leading caviar
company, based in the United States and run by the brothers’
descendants, and the Caviar Kaspia restaurant still does a roaring
trade in Paris, where 500g of beluga sells for £3,000.
As New Year approaches, what little caviar there is in Moscow is not
cheap either. One branch of the supermarket chain Perekrestok had a
113g tin of beluga selling for more than £400. "It’s almost certainly
illegal," says Mr Vaisman, "and it has gone up in price several times
even since the summer."
But if this will be a New Year’s Eve largely without caviar, Russians
can at least relax in the knowledge that one other celebration staple
is still cheap – at £2 for half a litre, vodka is still highly
affordable for almost all Russians. Perekrestok’s cheapest bottle is
significantly cheaper than a cappuccino in a nearby coffee shop.
And, after a few shots, it should be easy to forget that this was the
year when the love affair between Russians and black caviar finally
came to an end.
Copycat guide to luxury
* Vodka. It’s Russia’s national drink, swigged before, during and
after courses and even the official stuff is cheap at £2 per bottle.
The black market liquor will burn an even smaller hole in your pocket
but beware – thousands die every year from drinking moonshine vodka.
* Moscow has plenty of boutiques where the new rich can buy big-name
brands but the markets still cater to people who will settle for
bargain goods by Abidas, Gucki and Verscase.
* In the 1990s fishing boats would arrive at Vladivostok loaded with
second-hand Japanese cars. Illegal imports are still cheaper than
legal goods.
* Kamchatka crabs are not as rare as caviar, but are still subject to
fishing quotas. In the far east of Russia, fishermen ignore the quotas
and sell the giant crabs at knockdown prices by the side of the road.
A decent-sized specimen can go for up to £100 in a Moscow restaurant,
but on the black market it’ll set you back £20.
* Russians love fur in all its varieties, but for some fur, such as
polar bear, there’s a quota. Log on to the right internet chat room,
however, and you can snap up a contraband skin – if you have £6,500 to
spare.
http://news.independent.co.uk/europe/article328918