You Want Me to Eat THIS?

By Nancy R. Gibbs

Thirty thousand feet above the Pacific, the businessman wakes from a peaceful sleep to find the flight attendant placing a glass of Dom Perignon on his tray. "How would you like your eggs, Mr. Kliman?" His eyes fall on the small and tasteful burner resting atop her cart in the aisle. A sigh of contentment. "Poached, please." Has he arrived in heaven? Or is this merely Singapore Airlines?

Thousands of miles away, on a U.S. domestic airliner, another flight attendant strides down the aisle and deposits a tiny tray of what is optimistically described as chicken Kiev. A ragged strip of batter and bone soaked in an indeterminate broth, nested in some wilted greens, alongside a piece of cinder block with red gumdrop icing. A sigh of resignation. "On the short hauls, I never eat anything," says John Downard, vice president of Hoechst Celanese in Charlotte, N.C. "I look at flying as an opportunity for fasting."

There are travel agents who will argue that if such carriers as Singapore Airlines, Lufthansa, Air France and Swissair were allowed to fly the U.S. domestic routes, they could put a few of America's airlines out of business. Ask any world travelers about the difference in comfort and service and, particularly, the quality of food, and many would say there is no contest. U.S. carriers are notorious for serving meals that are poorly conceived, badly prepared and sometimes unhealthy. By contrast, the food on many non-U.S. carriers, even when catered by the very same firms, is generally considered superior fare in both quality and variety.

A reputation for decent cuisine does not come cheap: thanks in part to government subsidies, some foreign carriers are able to spend up to five times as much per passenger on food than U.S. airlines do. "Since deregulation," admits Robert Adamak, manager of planning and development for Eastern, "the U.S. airlines are putting on more snacks and perhaps using less expensive products." Among domestic carriers, Alaska Airlines is the most lavish ($7 a passenger), while USAir is the cheapest, at $2.22. Foreign carriers, on the other hand, may spend as much as $15, though the coming of European deregulation in 1992 may dent the quality of even Air France's free-flowing champagne.

In their defense, U.S. companies point to the large number of passengers they must feed on relatively short flights. Most carriers rely on a network of catering companies operating out of kitchens at major airports. The largest, Marriott In-Flite Services, prepares about 150 million meals a year on 150 different airlines -- including many foreign carriers. Thus while passengers on U.S. domestic flights wrestle with their rubbery entrees, Swissair passengers flying first class out of Atlanta may sample smoked salmon, caviar, lobster medaillons, foie gras, pan-fried trout or vacherin glace, among other esoterica. Even Swissair's coach-class passengers are treated to veal roast with walnut sauce and mocha mousse with kiwi -- and all provided by Marriott.

The U.S. carriers are not completely insensitive to the groans of hungry passengers. As they compete for frequent flyers, some companies are finding that decent food can help promote passenger loyalty. Alaska Airlines has started advertising that its "plane food isn't plain food." Researchers at Chicago-based United sort through the garbage to see what is regularly returned uneaten. One result: the airline in March will stop serving canned fruit cocktail on all coach flights. In April American will introduce a Heart Healthy menu approved by the American Heart Association.

At the same time, travelers are taking matters into their own hands. Some have discovered the "special meals" that can be ordered in advance and at least stand a chance of being fresher and better prepared. The major carriers offer as many as 18 alternative menus, including kosher, Hindu, vegetarian, high protein, no salt, low calorie, low cholesterol, diabetic and children's. American's seafood plate is particularly popular among veteran flyers. Special meals cost the companies more because they require special handling and are not mass produced. Says San Francisco businessman David Kliman: "It allows me to choose what to eat rather than have it just dished out."

Some more duplicitous seasoned travelers order a special meal when they make their reservation, then, if they like the look of the regular meal once on board, deny that the special order is for them. Likewise, there are the "double dippers," who savor the vegetarian entrees but lament the tiny portions. They are known to make two reservations for special meals and then ask the flight attendant if by any chance an extra veggie entree has gone unclaimed. Since special orders are so frequently fouled up anyway, either tactic is likely to beat the system. But even if passengers get the meal they ordered, they may wish they hadn't. Vegetarian meals, though not mystery meat, may be mystery mush. Another ploy is a double setup: two sets of rolls and salads and no main course at all.

The only guarantee of a decent meal, some travelers insist, is the brown bag. Manhattan's William Poll, sandwich purveyor to the Upper East Side top crust, prepares at least 50 boxes a week for his customers. On any given Monday morning, an arbitrager on his way to the coast will stop by to pick up his deluxe, shiny white box. Inside: beluga caviar on thinny-thin slices of white bread, a wedge of brie, English biscuits, a string-bean salad and a chocolate mousse. Fellow passengers look on jealously, perhaps not suspecting that this discerning gent finds $95 a small price to pay for being spared an airline lunch.

With reporting by Michael Mason/Atlanta, with other bureaus