Midair Beef Disaster: A New Low for Airplane Food
Photos via Unsplash, David Tran
From the thrill of finding a new favorite to the therapeutic relief from sinking your teeth into a nice, hearty meal after a long day on the road, food is one of the most exciting aspects of travel (or at least it is to me). Even something as small as buying bags of beef jerky and my favorite candy before a long road trip gets me excited to hit the dusty trail. But if you fly frequently, you probably feel differently from those who mostly drive or take trains. On a recent international flight, I ate the in-flight lunch. And I know I’m striking while the iron’s ice-cold by saying this in a blog post in 2024, as the tradition of dunking on airplane food is so trite that it’s been a load-bearing pillar in jokes about bad standup routines for decades, but seriously: What is the deal with airplane food?
I asked myself this same question fresh off of scarfing down an Ekiben, a Japanese portmanteau of Eki (meaning train), and Bento (meaning boxed meal or boxed lunch), a popular type of rail-bound meal with Japanese travelers. American Airlines’ grilled beef and rice lunch was a far cry from it, featuring rubbery steak that was somehow simultaneously bone-dry and far too moist, smothered in a ketchup-y sauce that was about as edible as the dry, crumbly rice supporting it.
Anyone who knows me knows I’m a sucker for free food. I’ve eaten my fair share of scraps and leftovers to get by, and I don’t intend to stop, so when I tell you that I’ve forced my teeth together to chew down some of the worst bites known to man to satiate my unruly appetite, please take my word for it. I could run down the laundry list of botched recipes and horrible convenience food I’ve eaten because they’re the only options I’ve had, but I’ll spare you.
But despite all my misadventures, very few meals (yes, even ones that have given me actual food poisoning) have left me as sickened as this beef bowl. Its scent made my toes curl and my skin crawl as it cut through the farty, stale airplane air. But I was a prisoner in that steel tube for another 8 hours—and who knows how long customs would take me—so I dug in. Although it didn’t make me physically sick in the moment, smelling the next meal that wafted through the plane 6 hours later made my stomach turn as I remembered that plasticky display case beef. It was bad enough to keep me from eating anything for almost an entire day later. Even the tantalizing smell of kushikatsu, a meal of tasty fried bites served on skewers, couldn’t resuscitate my appetite.