Christine Quinn from ‘Selling Sunset’ and caviar for breakfast: ‘Feeling rich’

The New York Times

Christine Quinn dipped a mother-of-pearl-handled spoon into a tureen that rested on a bed of ice. After spreading caviar over a blini, she brought it to her rosy lips. “It’s a rich flavor,” Quinn said. “The feeling he gives me is: rich. This is the classiest breakfast of my life.”

The scene took place on a rainy Saturday afternoon, the day Quinn, 33, star of the Netflix documentary “Selling Sunset”, and the woman the London newspaper The Sunday Times described as “television’s biggest villain”, had just arrived from Paris. She was promoting her first book, “How to Be a Boss B*tch,” a memoir and self-help combination in which she advises women on how to move up in life, starting with sky-high heels, just like she did.

“I’m in a big hurry,” she said, which probably explains why Quinn decided to schedule breakfast for 3:00. “I don’t know what city I’m in, what state, what time zone. I have no idea.”

During her stay in New York, she would do interviews on Good Morning America, The Tamron Hall Show and, most excitingly, Watch Watch Happens Live. I asked if she had already decided what outfit she would wear on this last show, broadcast live. She replied that not yet.

“But I’m going to give gays everything they deserve,” she said, placing a Mona Lisa bag on the table. “It’s moments like these that I live for.”

That afternoon, she had arrived at Caviar Russe, a midtown Manhattan restaurant that has a Michelin Star, wearing her provocative version of business attire — stilettos, Balenciaga sunglasses, a pinstripe suit and a shirt. white with a collar that exposed a part of her pale belly. Her nails, long and painted neon yellow, glowed like post-its.

Quinn first tasted caviar at age 21 at dinner with a boyfriend. “I don’t care if you want to define him as ‘sugar daddy,'” she said. “That’s what he was. But our chemistry was wonderful.” That same night, she tasted her first filet mignon, her first glass of royal champagne. “It opened my eyes to that whole world that I hadn’t seen before, and didn’t even know existed,” Quinn said.

Since then, she has eaten caviar many times. Sitting on the top floor of Caviar Russe, in a gray-walled booth with a Murano chandelier tinkling above her head, Quinn was drinking Red Bull – to combat jet lag – and asked the waiter, John Gergeos, for recommendations. He suggested the Prestige tasting menu, which combines platinum, golden and classic osetra caviar and traditional side dishes for $695.75.

“A glass of champagne?” he asked.

She nodded and asked for Krug. But Gergeos didn’t have Krug champagne by the glass, and they settled on a glass of Dom Pérignon ($75). “I don’t drink, I just taste,” she said.

Opening the champagne, Gergeos popped the cork—Quinn has that effect on men—and then poured the drink into a pre-chilled glass.

Quinn lifted the spoon and attacked, starting with the platinum caviar. “Mmmm,” she said. “It’s very light, buttery, airy, creamy, very subtle.”

Then it was time for golden caviar, served over a blini. “This one has saltier notes,” she said. “It’s light nonetheless, but the salt gives it an extra lift and I like that because I love salt.”

Finally, she tried the classic which she spread over a crepe and accompanied with “crème fraîche”. “This one has flavors of the sea,” she said.

The champagne glass was empty, somehow. Quinn called the waiter politely. “John, it looks like this glass has a hole,” she said. “One more, please.”

In the five seasons of “Selling Sunset,” a reality show that feels more like a cage fight between luxury Los Angeles realtors, Quinn has carefully cultivated a relentless image and turned the sarcastic eye-rolling gesture into an art form. When she realized that the producers had decided to portray her as a villain, she didn’t fight the idea.

“I felt like I was the only person in the cast who understood my mission,” Quinn said. “I was the only one to understand that it was a show and I decided that I would give the world a show.”

But she was a little irritated to discover that “Selling Sunset,” which follows the adventures of the Oppenheim Group’s realtors, had been nominated for an MTV award for non-fiction series. (She received a personal nomination, in the best brawl category.)

According to Quinn, the series is carefully scripted. “There’s no doubt about it,” she said.

In the final episodes of season five, she left the Oppenheim Group and opened her own agency, RealOpen, which brokers real estate purchases and sales among people who prefer to trade in cryptocurrencies. She doesn’t know if she will return for a sixth season, especially if the series continues to serve as a promotion for the Oppenheim Group.

“Hulu, I’m waiting for your call,” she said playfully.

Quinn asked for the check. During our hour-long conversation, she had eaten at least half of the 75 grams of caviar, and asked to have the rest wrapped up for her to take to the hotel. Quinn said she never wastes food. When Gergeos brought in the bill, which was close to $1,000, he also brought a packet of blinis, “crème fraîche” and an additional 125 grams of caviar, a gift from the owners.

“They’re big fans of yours,” said the waiter.

“I can’t believe it! How sweet,” Quinn said, accepting the toast gracefully and posing for some photos intended for social media.

Gergeos reminded her that caviar had a shelf life of two, three weeks at the most.

Quinn, with his fondness for luxury, told him not to worry. “It will only last until tonight,” she stated.