If you ask frequent flyers what they most dislike about flying, the answer you’ll get is unanimous: the food! It’s tragic because, however experienced we are, we somehow look forward to the most expensive “free” food in the world.
We know better, but still we chomp into the melted rubber burrito. It looks worse than school dinners, but still we polish off gravy-soaked cardboard and mushy beans. Even first-class food mostly resembles early efforts by catering students.
I’ve concluded that prevention is more feasible than cure. No matter what class I’m traveling, I’d always rather eat before I board my flight. That way I can work or sleep or catch up on movies without interruption—and arrive feeling so much better.
At Newark Airport, for example, there’s a truly great steak house—Gallagher’s—opposite gate C120. Its sister restaurant in Manhattan is famous, but the airport version suffers from no compromises. The crab salad is, I guarantee, the most mind-blowing crab you will taste anywhere in the world.
You won’t need a steak after it—but you’ll want one. The meat is beautifully aged, perfectly cooked and ably complemented by a fine wine list. After a meal at Gallagher’s, you board your flight, don the light shade and snooze contentedly all the way home.
Gallagher’s is exceptional but it’s not unique. Boston’s Logan Airport boasts a sit-down Legal Seafoods outlet as good as any along the eastern seaboard.
If you’ve haven’t overdosed on steak by the time you leave Texas, Ruth’s Chris Steak House in San Antonio will ensure you leave fulfilled. Chicago offers a branch of the Berghoff Café, one of the windy city’s most famous restaurants.
In the old, elegant days of air travel, airports used to be glamorous places to dine in their own right. The little Le Touquet aerodrome still maintains some of the romance of flying, while the Matthews restaurant in California’s Paso Robles is so alluring that private pilots seek it out.
In Brussels, the Pilot Club Restaurant is a nod to those days, as is a charming little restaurant tucked away upstairs at Pisa’s Galileo airport. Any of these can easily while away a few hours’ delay in real calm. Such restaurants aren’t cheap—but you’re paying for peace and quiet as well as love and attention.
It’s amazing to me how much better I feel on arrival if I’ve eschewed plane food. Less jet lag, less bloated, less exhausted. British Airways seems to understand this, offering a Sleeper Service before some long-haul flights. They’ll feed you on the ground so you can sleep in the air.
When that’s not available or when I know I’ll find no decent restaurant or the time for a real meal, I have, on occasion, brought my own. My husband and I once provoked consternation and envy when, on an Air France flight, we unveiled a still-warm poulet roti complete with celeri remoulade and a fresh salade de tomates.
Not everyone will want to go that far, but even take-out sushi can inspire some surprising friendships as you unveil it on board.
Margaret Heffernan is the author of The Naked Truth: A Manifesto for Working Women, forthcoming from Jossey-Bass (Wiley).
