In Flight Food

Image: Chris McPherson

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Toward the morning end of a transatlantic flight to Manchester, England, a flight attendant walked through business class ostentatiously carrying a cardboard tray of fresh eggs. After depositing his precious cargo in the galley, he reappeared, sidled up to each groggy passenger, and asked brightly: Can I make you a fresh omelet this morning? Just tell me how you’d like it done.
As a bagel-for-breakfast guy, I declined. Really? We use fresh eggs. I make them myself, you know. No, a cup of coffee would be fine.

This, uh, Opera Oeuf plays out every day on many long-haul flights operated by BMI, a large British carrier once known as British Midland. The airline makes quite the big deal out of its meal service, claiming that business-class passengers are served “international cuisine akin to the very best restaurant food, prepared by a fully qualified onboard chef.”

The onboard “chef” is actually a flight attendant with some culinary chops. And for all the theater and flying fry cooks, BMI’s onboard offerings aren’t particularly different than the victuals served up front on any other international airline.

Airlines often spare no expense or P.R. frippery trying to convince high-ticket premium-class flyers that they are dining miles high on the hog. Famous chefs are signed to create special meals. Pricey champagne and fancy wines flow freely. Caviar still makes an occasional appearance. Ostentatious menus are presented with the solemnity of a prayer book. Depending on the carrier and the distance of the flight, feeding a first-class flyer can run into hundreds of dollars a passenger.

In coach, not so much. If any food is served at all these days, it tends to be the stuff of late-night comedy monologues: mystery meat in even more mysterious gravy, wine in a box, and the ever-popular wilted iceberg lettuce with fluorescent salad dressing. The cost-per-passenger can literally be counted in pennies.

Either way, I’ve never understood travelers’ obsession with in-flight food, and I relish quoting comedian David Brenner: He’s always said he didn’t go to a diner expecting a flight to Los Angeles, so why should he get on a flight expecting an omelet? And I never forget the brutally frank assessment by one airline executive, who explained to me that airline food is essentially leftovers: It is prepared 24 to 48 hours in advance, wrapped in plastic, stuck in a refrigerator, and hastily and inexpertly reheated before serving.

Yet the galvanizing power of in-flight food is undeniable, a lesson United Airlines learned again last week. Customers of the nation’s second-largest airline suffered silently as the carrier began charging for checked bags, raised fares, slashed frequent-flier benefits, and eliminated a slew of other practical amenities. But when United announced last month that it would stop serving free food in coach on some transatlantic flights, passengers pushed back and complained loudly and in large numbers. As a result, for the foreseeable future, the airline will continue to serve its lamentable in-flight coach fare as part of its basic international airfare.

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