02: "Chicken or beef?"
Surviving queues to have sub-par food experiences is the real drag of flying
As we write this, know that we survived. Dublin Airport, like Heathrow and Manchester in recent weeks, has landed in the news for all the wrong reasons. Queues snaking from security through departures halls and - in some instances - weaving their way outside the building(s); staffing at a critically low level; heightened stress and confusion for passengers departing needing to spend 3-4 hours in-situ just to make their flights; and an overall less then desirable level of facilities and service.
We began writing in Dublin Airport and now sending this out from Stockholm. We found in flying through the airport earlier this week the security queue took a grand total of 12 minutes from scanning a boarding card to returning tray post-security (for the love of all things good and great, return your trays you animals!) We’d call this “average”, if not quicker, than all our previous experiences of flying since the pandemic began. This left us a good 90 minutes to peruse the shops, spritz a bit of Diptyque and Dior, grab another SD card (we seem to collect them like Beanie Babies) and make a beeline for that all-important, slightly metallic-tasting pint of the black stuff whilst gazing at the planes taking off.
This is not a blow-by-blow of our entire flying process through DUB, but what we will say is we found the check-in/bag drop element was the bigger disaster and led to most of the frustration, confusion and stress. We wouldn’t want to claim to know anything about the inner workings and internal goings-on to wager an informed opinion, so it is what it is and hopefully it gets under control soon enough. We’ve often said before - and this is killer to remember - that Dublin Airport, or any major international airport of a city or country, is the first and last place visitors will encounter. Think about that. The first bite of a destination, maybe even before arriving, and the lasting taste, perhaps long after leaving, too. Opinions are formed about a destination by the very experience of arriving and departing. Airside and landside experiences are important, on-board experiences are important. Food and drink is fundamental to those experiences.
We had intended to hang on to this post for a few more weeks as the seed was just germinating in our minds, safe in the knowledge that blossom would emerge at a later date. However, after seeing airports towards the fore of news reports and chats taking off on Twitter across the weekend detailing the culinary experience at 35,000 feet, we decided to bring it forward. Frankly, we thought for a while maybe we were in the slim minority who enjoyed the re-heated foil trays, individually packaged slices of bread and tomato juice ’n’ gin (trust us, it’s incredible)… but seemingly ours numbers many.
In the first of a two-parter zoning in on the food offering whilst in-transit on transport carriers - which, as food and travel writers, fascinates us and we’ve a lot to uncover and report on - trains will follow, but this is going to to be a long-haul on airplane food.
Look, we agree that in so many examples “plane food” can be found bland, stodgy and even unappetising. There’s little love placed on tray, everything’s a cost, a formula, a standardised set up and an example of factory food on big scale. Dietary requirements have rightfully come to the fore, which offers a sliver of choice and control, but for the most part the most choice you’ll have is what drink you’ll accompany your “chicken or beef” with.
We’ve mostly travelled through Europe. Pretty extensively, we’d like to think, but most flights are short-hop with very limited food options. The next sentence feels as shocking to write as it likely is to read: we’ve not crossed the Atlantic together. Never been to North America (or South America) as a couple, though have been to a few US cities individually, pre-GG. Our airline adventures have, though, taken us to a couple of destinations in Asia –– from the skyscrapers and backstreets of Hong Kong to the cutting-edge island of Taiwan, where modern technology and ancient rituals go hand-in-hand. More recently, we’ve landed in South Korea, making our way from South Korea’s second city Busan - Hollywood-on-Haeundae, if you will - to the cosmopolitan capital Seoul, where we can still taste every bite we ate, right before the pandemic put stop to international sojourning. These long-hauls to Asian ports really opened our eyes to the magic of dining in the sky via KLM and Cathay Pacific. And by “magic” we mean more so tittering at a coin appearing behind an ear rather than deep diving into Breaking the Magician’s Code.
Only one of those flights was in anything other than economy. Premium Economy gives you a nicer seat and a bit of bubbles before departure, but the same meal service. We - like many others - long for the day cabin crew waltz down the aisle, land a hand softly on one shoulder and soothingly whisper with a smile “gentlemen, we have space for you both up front” instead of “can you put your holdall under your seat instead of the overhead bin, thanks”. It still hasn’t happened, so we’re perpetually resigned to economy.
We recently re-watched a show that time forgot (though actually only just over a decade old): Heston’s Mission Impossible. The short series saw Michelin-starred English chef Heston Blumenthal work with different British institutions to try to understand and transform their food offering, from the Royal Navy to the NHS and for a couple of episodes it was the turn of British Airways. Ring a bell? Now, before you ask us where to watch it, it was originally on Channel 4, no longer available on All 4 but can be viewed on Dailymotion.
We’ve been down this road before, right? Celebrity chefs lending their name (and maybe their vision, probably not their hand — but who knows) to airlines by way of catering partners. James Martin for Thomas Cooke, Clodagh McKenna for Aer Lingus, Neil Perry for Qantas, Lorraine Pascale and later Donal Skehan for Virgin Atlantic; Air France actually regularly rotate their premium offering from a list of stellar chefs including Joël Robuchon and Anne-Sophie Pic, the list goes on…
The ultimate takeaway for Heston in the show was about understanding limitations of reheating and plating rather than creating dining opportunities and dishes. He did in one part suggest offering all passengers a nasal douche to insert ’n’ squirt to “open up the tastebuds”. Yeah, us neither. But by way of restrictions it did showcase the limits: Staff can’t have sharp objects and are restricted to very limited space, not to mention that their main role is to ensure safety, not to garnish a dish in chives or a drizzle of balsamic. So whilst ideas can run the gamut from street food to molecular gastronomy, almost all cannot be executed because the food needs to arrive so that it’s easily heated and/or easily served.
Ovens on planes are not complex equations, they are simple beasts with a duo of settings: low and high. Steam may be the enemy of crisp texture, but really the only way to ensure standardised heating through. Even in the upper classes, there’s no hidden kitchen like a glass-surround house extension lobbed on to one side of the plane. The food is prepared in the same manner, albeit served to a better standard. Think back to lockdown meal kits and you’re some of the way there: a bit of presentation required combining composite parts into a compound dish from little pots. Some meals we’ve seen from those who share them online have looked appetising - namely some of the offerings on transatlantic Aer Lingus routes, and the long-haul offering on both Emirates and Singapore Airlines.
Back to short haul, as that’s the way most of us are experiencing travel more often, we’d wager. One of the best examples of airplane food done right is the full Irish breakfast from Aer Lingus, sadly no longer served and much lamented by many. For a good few years it was omnipresent on pre-midday take-offs, you could even pre-book to secure it, too. At €10, it was excellent value, and you got the works with some McCabridge soda bread, jam or marmalade, orange juice and a hot drink. A cup of tea alone costs about €3. Covid seems to have put the kibosh on it.
Remember, as well, when Aer Lingus had Tayto sandwiches, too? How fabulously comforting and simple - slices of “shite white” bread, as we call it, teency square pats of Kerrygold butter and a pack of Tayto - delivering a proper taste of home for pittance. Now, it was less “good value” (€4 a pop) and more “genius marketing move” for essentially a flat-pack, build-it-yourself sandwich, but it did the trick and communicated something about the Irish cuisine. Paired with a piping hot cup of Barry’s Tea? You’re laughing.
Cutbacks have killed so much culinary offering on short hauls. The Ryanair-ification of many airlines, even flag carriers, has put a major stop to most short-haul flights offering food for free. Swiss, Austrian and Lufthansa put stop to free food and drinks almost simultaneously in 2020. A rarity among airlines are the two main choices we had to arrive in Stockholm this week. KLM, the Dutch national airline, still gives all passengers a drink (soft, hot or alcoholic) plus a sandwich (usually vegetarian and very crowd-pleasing). SAS (who fly direct but very much at Stockholm-style prices) offer a hot or cold drink on all flights to passengers. Little fact, did you know SAS is actually the national airline of all three Scandinavian countries? None of each has an individual national airline, they combine and pool in to the joint one.
It’s sad that in cutbacks to service food is often the first to go, when food is such a pure example of offering “service” to customers. Heck, we don’t even interact with staff bar the “hello” as you enter the cabin and the “thanks, goodbye” when we disembark, so the food service is one of the few one-on-one interactions and now it’s pay-to-play almost across the board.
We often wonder what we’d do differently. Of course, folk like us, sitting on armchairs, with no experience of the sector they’re passing comment and judgement on are perfectly-placed to comment and critique. But whilst we’re in it, let’s explore that little warren. Fantasy mode, unlocked: What *would* we do differently if an Irish airline asked for consultation? See the section at the bottom for a taster of what we’d do…
As we said previously, experiencing a country begins before you land, and the final taste in the mouth of visitors may well be airside, or in the clouds. Service is important, and an important part of service is food and drink. Sure, airlines are designed to make money, airports, too. But build it, and they’ll come –– and we believe the in-flight feed (as well as the options on the ground) present real opportunities to have great food experiences, especially within the affordable price bracket.
If after endless queues, checks, security dressing downs, perfume spritzes, more queues, more checks, and squeezing into seats like sardines in tins that you were then offered something pretty special to eat or drink travelling wouldn’t feel so much more fabulous –– and worth queuing for.
In A Dream World…
First, let’s figuratively kick off with a drink. A variety of spirits are usually available onboard, but what about Craft Cocktails? They’ve already shown they have creativity, design and skill to up-start and scale pre-made cocktails in individual or several serves. Aviation, Banana Old Fashioned, Belfast Coffee or a Bramble. Opportunity for an exclusive option, too. Enticing flavours, bright packaging and literally just a shake and pour situation.
At the opposite end of the day to cocktail hour, let’s bring back breakfast, and make it all-day, you cowards. Brinner is a real thing.
Purple Snack bars. The yellow shortcake ones are okay, the pink wafers have now disappeared. Give us the purple Snack bars and give us them by the planeload.
Some might say Barry’s Tea is an urgent necessity. We’re a split household: 50/50 Lyon’s/Barry’s…
Guinness Micro-Draught. The new gadget Diageo agonised over, to make those at-home pints from a can ever the more pure and akin to the poured pint in a pub or the Storehouse. It’s as close as we’ve ever found, and
Ice cream cookie sandwiches. Leamhain are doing them, Chimac are doing them. Think Three Twenty Ice Cream Lab also do wild things with sammies every now and then.
An Irish farmhouse cheese selection. Now we know the limitations of this and the chill chain requirements, but we’ve noticed more and more Irish farmhouse and artisan cheesemakers are sealing their cheeses, and cheese portions, in airtight packaging both for protection and to elongate shelf-life. A little snack pack of incredible cheeses, some Sheridan’s crackers and an artisan chutney, maybe some charcuterie, too? Corndale Farm, Gubbeen, The Wooded Pig… all pre-packaged on a neat little recyclable tray? A taste of the Irish terroir.
What about fulfilment partners for ready meals? James Whelan Butchers have in the last year brought a whole range of heat-through meals to market, like a pulled sugar pit bacon shank and cabbage pie. The Happy Pear have become a bit of a culinary convenience meal empire, their veggie and vegan, curries, dahls and Shepherdless Pie have slews of fans. Cully and Sully, too for their hearty soups. Surely there’s a symbiosis there…
For more high flying meals, do check out the Instagram page InFlightFeed and it’s accompanying website. It shows the highs and lows of it all, and can help pre-plan if traveling with a different airline.
Where have you have amazing food during the flying process? A particular airport or airline? We’d love to know, drop a comment below:
Purple snacks!!! Absolute winner.
Loved reading this. In the mid-aughts all the internal US flights I used to take had pizza pockets for the in-flight snack. They’d burn your mouth but they were also glorious. They also had a catalogue called Sky Mall where you could buy a personalised steak brander. Those were the days.