By Anne Roderique-Jones
THE WASHINGTON POST – Can I tell you something that excites me to no end? That enchanting moment, while sitting on an uncomfortable long-haul journey, when a flight attendant slips a piping-hot meal onto your tray table. It’s the travel equivalent of a magician pulling the rabbit out of his hat. But instead, it’s an airline employee serving up chicken Kiev out of a rolling cart.
As a travel writer, I’m expected to pooh-pooh a premade frozen meal that’s thawed while in flight. Anthony Bourdain, who was willing to ingest a still-beating cobra heart, turned up his nose at airplane food.
And more recently, chef and author Noah Galuten shunned the idea of in-flight and airport food. Gordon Ramsay went as far as to say, “There’s no way I eat on planes.”
To this I say, when did we become so snobby that we’d dismiss the joys of Book the Cook on Singapore Airlines or a cup of noodles on Cathay Pacific? Even when I’m not the least bit hungry, a delivery of an airplane meal is simply too enticing to pass up. I want to know what’s under the foil covers, even if it’s not nutritionally sound or all that great. Airplane food is a novelty, and I will eat it, thank you very much. I’ll eat a kale salad when I get home.
As someone who didn’t get their first passport until 24, I still find great joy in going to the airport and getting on a plane. I’ll admit that this is not always an easy feat when you’re squished into a middle seat or dodging hard-shell suitcases stuffed into overhead compartments. But the delight of travel far exceeds the negative repercussions.
As we get jaded with age and experience, I think back to what 15-year-old me would think about whizzing through the air in a metal tube, watching my own personal television screen, all while eating dinner at cruising altitude.
Travel often means uncharted territory; doing something that might be new or out of the ordinary. You know what’s not ordinary? A culinary treat that’s divided by courses and is just for me. No one in my everyday life is offering up a foil-wrapped meal consisting of a limp salad, a bland roll with a wrapped pat of frozen butter (pro tip: set this on your steaming meal to help melt it), an adorable square of cheese, and a jiggly dessert.
No one in my everyday life is offering me a choice between beef or pasta. (What sort of beef? What variety of pasta? Who knows! Who cares!) And no one in my everyday life is whisking away my dirty dishes so that I can cover up with a flimsy blanket and mesh-covered pillow to fall asleep to 27 Dresses for the 27th time.
There’s no denying that the in-flight dining experience – especially in economy class – has taken a turn for the worse. Gone are the days of tray tables being dressed with crisp white linens and fine china. The days where passengers dressed up in their finest attire. We’ve traded this for drinks in a plastic cup and athleisure wear. But it’s still something. I fear our days of complimentary meals are numbered, as airlines increasingly charge us for bottles of water and even an aisle seat. Until that time I urge you: Embrace the novelty and enjoy the airplane meal.
