In Search of the
Best Caviar
in the World

“In China, people have a more unprejudiced approach to caviar simply because the tradition doesn’t exist. They pair it with whatever they feel like—Peking duck as readily as desserts. And they don’t feel they need to save it for special occasions.”

Hermes Gehnen should know. He grew up in a suburb of Beijing before moving to Germany to study biology. Today he splits his time between Munich and London and travels the world in between—much like his namesake, the messenger god of Greek mythology. Gehnen moves effortlessly between cultures, catering to both East and West with a product many associate with ultimate luxury: caviar. Just the thought of it brings up a cascade of associations: fur coats and mother-of-pearl spoons, gourmet counters and fine dining.

Yet for a long time, caviar was a protein-rich staple of poor fishermen before Russian tsars in the 19th century developed a taste for it and declared it a delicacy. Specifically, caviar refers to the eggs of the female sturgeon, which are removed, washed, salted, and then preserved. The mother fish is between 10 and 15 years old at the time of extraction—the older, the better the final product is said to be.

Because this process results in the fish’s death, it understandably doesn’t sit well with animal lovers. Attempts at non-lethal extraction exist, but have yet to succeed. And this is only one of the reasons the roe can cost up to €20,000 per kilo. Due to overfishing, wild-caught sturgeon has been banned since 2008; today, more than half of the roughly 500 tons of caviar consumed globally each year comes from Chinese aquaculture.

A Caviar Epiphany
Back to Hermes Gehnen, a sporty young man with a cropped haircut whose Instagram reveals a fondness for golf, sushi, and high-caliber wine. During our video interview, his camera is off—he’s speaking from his car. Just 28 years of age, he has already founded two companies, in addition to completing his biology degree. He grew up with a Chinese mother and a German father, both culinarians at heart, as many people in China are. Food, Gehnen notes, has a much higher cultural status there than in Europe. “I was lucky—as a child my parents and family often took me out to eat, frequently to very good restaurants. And we had a garden. Since I was always curious about where food comes from, it was the best way to learn.”

At 17, he had his caviar epiphany at Paris’s three-Michelin-star restaurant L’Ambroisie. Soon he noticed that most of the caviar served in European restaurants originated from his country of birth. He then visited numerous producers to learn all he could about the craft. “More than the caviar itself, I was first fascinated by these prehistoric, gigantic sturgeons, which can grow up to five meters long, weigh two tons, and live to be 150 years old,” he says, the biologist in him clearly speaking. “Then I realized that everyone handled their eggs the same way: serving them relatively fresh.”

The now-trendy practice of maturing fish products was still far off at the time, yet that was exactly what Gehnen wanted to attempt. He teamed up with a family-run business at 2,200 meters altitude that raises its fish without antibiotics and lets them live significantly longer than average. “Instead of altering the fundamental taste of the caviar, I wanted to highlight its characteristics,” he explains. The product launched in 2017 as N25—named after the 25th northern parallel, where the farm is located. Even back then, he was confident: “I didn’t want to be just another caviar dealer. I wanted to create a recognizable brand—one explicitly listed on menus at top restaurants, where usually only the variety is mentioned.”

From Side Project to Haute Cuisine
At first, it was more of a “fun project,” he says, running parallel to his studies at Munich’s Ludwig Maximilian University. His first client was the restaurant JAN, whose chef Jan Hartwig became an early fan. A delightful anecdote: the biology student taking the bus after class, caviar-filled backpack in tow, to deliver it to a three-star restaurant. Next came fellow three-star chef Tohru Nakamura as a customer.

Soon, top German establishments such as es:senz and Waldhotel Sonnora followed, then Vienna’s Amador—whose former head chef pairs N25 with iced beurre blanc and oysters—London’s The Ledbury, and all restaurants run by Björn Frantzén, where the roe may be served with potato pancakes and sour cream. Not to forget London’s Ikoyi, whose signature dish of saffron, plum, and mussels refined with N25 is one of Gehnen’s favorites. “Often caviar gets overshadowed by the accompanying flavors. I love when, as in this case, it remains the star.” To achieve this, he experiments with every parameter—a decidedly scientific approach: “My biology studies definitely help.”

There are many ambitious caviar producers—Austria’s Walter Grüll, for example, is a well-known name. What sets Gehnen apart is the support of top chefs, some of whom act as ambassadors, including Jeremy Chan, Björn Frantzén, Jan Hartwig, and Rafael Cagali. The N25 branding, website, and social media presence are also meticulously staged. After all, few products rely on desirability as much as caviar. Whether amateurs can truly taste the difference between good and exceptional, however, is debatable.

Caviar and Its Terroir
N25 currently offers three varieties: the mahogany-colored, floral Oscietra; the nutty, Umami-focused Kaluga Hybrid; and the extra-aged Kaluga with notes of roasted nuts. The company’s 25-person team includes Gehnen’s mother, who oversees the Asian market. In addition to the family-run operation that inspired the name, Gehnen works with two other producers, all located along China’s east coast—an area known for particularly pure mountain water. He declines to reveal their identities, just as he won’t disclose annual production quantities. The eggs are matured in Germany for several months up to a year. Gehnen sees parallels to winemaking: like wine, caviar has a terroir and tastes differently depending on the fish’s origin. The sturgeon’s age and feed also matter, as do the maturing time, brine composition, and salt content.

Having established a reputation in the fine-dining world, Gehnen has become increasingly interested in democratizing his product. “Especially younger people are often intimidated by caviar,” he says. This motivation led to Umai—meaning “delicious” in Japanese—a more accessible, contemporary second line available through his online shop. Instead of distinguishing by sturgeon species, Umai categorizes by flavor profile.

“Heritage has a more classic taste—savory and maritime—while Modern is nuttier, creamier, and more umami-forward. N25 is more sophisticated and assumes a certain sensitivity to nuance, while Umai is all about fun and versatility. You can pair this caviar with fries, fried chicken, or ice cream,” Gehnen explains—just as unorthodox as in China. “Caviar consumption there only really took off about ten years ago. And what can I say? People are incredibly creative with it.”