Don’t Order The Halibut

They say that hope springs eternal. They also say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing every day and expecting a different result. Continental Airlines did an excellent job of transporting me to and from Europe. Everything worked well, including the security checks at both ends. But…the fish was overcooked. Impressively overcooked. The other food was tolerable, bordering on “not bad.” So on the flight back I did the only thing that made no sense and ordered the halibut again. My rationale was that it was a different preparation, so it would be cooked perfectly. It wasn’t. Maybe I should stick to the chicken.

7 Replies to “Don’t Order The Halibut”

  1. Try Virgin Upper Class. They serve superb food in their lounges (flying out of London you have a choice of formal or informal) so once in the air, you no longer care. Brilliant! Yesterday I ate sushi, tea sandwiches, about 15 varieties of cold cuts and a chicken curry concoction on my way home from London. All with champagne!

    My secret to surviving airplane food is to eat everything except the main course while ordering extra bread so that you can hoard the butter and put it on the main coarse to improve the flavor. I learned this trick when I was about 9 years old.

  2. Yes…the main “coarse”. First, “Fois”, now this. At any rate, I completely concur about Virgin Upper Class. I recently flew to London and occupied a stool at the bar (which easily seats 5-6 people) for a good portion of the flight. I had my choice of 4 different vodkas for my martini, a dedicated bartender, and they actually served my dinner at the bar! The food was only OK (a dessicated piece of beef tenderloin), but nonetheless I was upset to discover (upon landing) that I had slept through the snack, which included something called a “bacon roll”. My lilfe partner called me from the Virgin lounge in Heathrow a few days ago (she was waiting to board, and was actually thrilled when she heard the flight would be delayed an hour…the lounge is that good); I directed her to the deli, where they hand out these delicous little meat pasties. She smuggled a few through customs at JFK and I had to fight with her father to get my fair share when she served them for lunch yesterday (with a very good mustard).

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