Aero Mexico, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean: ‘It’s the sort of long-life food that makes you not want to survive the apocalypse’
All plane food is bad, but this was something else
If you consider that constructive criticism generally raises the standard of most things, then there is a serious gap in the market for plane food critics. The food served at 36,000 feet is possibly the most simultaneously impressive and awful thing that humans have conceived. Isn’t it a marvel that we have managed to not only sustain the flight of a giant metal canister filled with sometimes hundreds of humans for hours but we have also managed to make the whole experience passably comfortable. And how do we celebrate such an achievement, while we’re in the air? With the world’s worst lasagne.
I shall not applying for a role as a plane food critic, as the food I ate on my most recent flight to Mexico was so bad it should be illegal and was surely only allowed to be served because we were technically in international waters.
Admittedly, there are technical challenges to overcome when serving food on a plane. At such heights, the air in the cabin is very dry which affects our sense of smell and lower air pressure alters the sensitivity of our taste buds. Consequently, airline caterers lean on increased salt or sugar to make dishes taste even remotely similar to how they would on the ground.
Then there’s the fact that the air stewards, who are not trained chefs, are cooking en masse. For 300 cramped patrons in this instance. Actually scratch that, it’s an insult to those that cook to call this cooking. This is heating up hundreds of trays of mulch in ovens that look like little safes.
I didn’t realise until we were on board that this was a twelve hour flight; the longest I think I’ve ever been on. I’d failed to account for the time difference. Who knew Mexico was so far away? Twelve hours means not one opportunity to sample the strangest international cuisine but two! Joy.
Lunch, if you could call it that, was a choice between lasagne and something ‘pollo’. My Spanish isn’t great. I opted for the former; naively imagining some manageable microwave meal version of a dish I love dearly.
Both were served with a little appetiser of olives, Parma ham and mouse-sized cubes of nondescript hard cheese. Serving three manifestations of salt was a great idea and I’ll admit I quite enjoyed them.
It’s absurd to contemplate that if a plane crashes, somewhere among the wreckage there could be up to 300 portions of lasagne. I doubt they would look much different to be honest, and even in their final resting place at the bottom of the sea I bet the fish wouldn’t go near them. Why? Well it tasted like a discontinued Dolmio line that didn’t make it through product testing. If there was any meat in it I am still none the wiser. It was sweeter than the school canteen apple cake we were given for dessert. The pasta, separating all two layers of sweetened sludge, is unnervingly thick and gave the distinct impression that it had been reformed from some other substance like crackers or cardboard. It’s the sort of long-life food that makes you not want to survive the apocalypse.
If things weren’t bad enough they’d served it with broccoli that actually looks as though it has survived the apocalypse. There was certainly no point eating it, it tasted disgusting, barely survived a stab with the fork and almost certainly didn’t contain any nutritional benefit.
The cheese and crackers were alright though. I forgave the serving of unsalted butter - an invention from the devil himself - as it was called Meggle. When you’re stranded in the air with no wifi you have to take all the entertainment you can get.
By comparison, the white wine was delightful. The air stewards were delightful too and looked on with bemusement when I ask to see the ‘ovens’, but they were a bit suspicious about me taking photos, so you’ll just have to imagine them.
Eight hours later, or earlier as we are technically travelling back in time, dinner was served. Only it appeared to be lunch and therefore booze was no longer on offer. Very sad.
By the time they got to us, at the back of the plane, only one option remains; a vegetable empanada. The sausage roll-esque creation bears a remarkably similar flavour profile to the lasagne. I wouldn’t be surprised if the filling was in fact the very same stuff. The saving grace of this tray was some salad leaves with a cute little bottle of olive oil and balsamic vinegar - by far the highlight of the meal.
All in all, probably some of the worst plane food I’ve ever had, which is really saying something considering the already rock bottom nature of the genre. But hey, it was free (if you don’t include the £600 air fare), and for some that’s all that matters.
Words and photos by Meg Houghton-Gilmour
AeroMexico, based in Mexico City
p.s - the astute among you will have gathered that I am now in Mexico. Subsequent posts shall either reference food eaten over here, thoughts on travelling, funny things that have happened or a combination of the above. Or nothing at all, depending on the amount of tequila consumed. Hasta luego!
that's not lasagna that's a poptart