All the focus on our high-flying government officials buzzing around in private planes got someone at the Boston Globe wondering about what it is that fancy folks – other than our government officials, who I’m pretty certain, given their modest proclivities, just pick up a sandwich in the airport Sbarro’s – munch on when they’re on those private jets.
The answer is generally something a lot finer dining that what those of us who fly prole get. Which these days is a lot of nothing.
Airplane food is a funny thing, both funny peculiar and funny ha-ha. Other than a few edibles when I’ve flown first or business, the things I’ve eaten on planes over the years have been execrable. Bland, soggy, tough, tasteless. I was almost happy when American stopped serving “real” meals in steerage and went with a crappy Subway sandwich and some Sun Chips.
The truth is, of course, that I tend to eat at least part of whatever crappy food they put in front of me. Pasta of liquid consistency: right-o! Shred of brownish ice-berg lettuce: yum! Near-frozen roll: bring it on! (Just don’t break a tooth on it.) And let me tell you I’m always plenty happy to see a little wrapped up cheese and cracker thing-y, a tiny cup of yogurt.
Still, better off bringing your own, which for shorter hops (i.e., anything that doesn’t entail overnight) travelers increasingly do, because otherwise they won’t get fed. I’m fine with this. Oh, I don’t like the guy sitting next to me opening up and wolfing down a smelly tuna sandwich. Seriously, tuna sandwiches need to be put on the no-fly list. But I’m good with whatever I choose to bring on board. (Something non-odiferous from Au Bon Pain.)
If you’re fortunate enough to fly private jet around here, however, you may get catered by Rita’s Catering, which:
…serves aircraft operating in and out of Boston-area airports, including Logan, Hansom [sic: in real life it’s Hanscom], Beverly Municipal, and others… Chefs at Rita’s Catering’s main commissary in Everett fulfill all requests, whether it’s for grass-fed beef, escargots, or a simple honey-glazed doughnut. (Source: Boston Globe)
Owner Paul Rossi (Rita’s son) describes his clientele as “very elite.” And here’s what the very elite like to eat:
“This morning, we had a Saudi jet. The menu included no alcohol in any seasoning, fresh squeezed juices, filet mignon, and sugar-free desserts. They unloaded two containers of their own china for us to put the food on. It was a $3,000 order for one guy — the rest for the crew. We do whatever it takes. Jack Welch, former chief executive of GE, had peculiar taste — pasta with tomato sauce, Gummy Bears, and Jello. A health care tech executive wanted pig’s feet.
Other than the sugar-free desserts – that’s no fun – I think I’d rather fly with the Saudi guy than with Jack Welch (seriously, Jack, Gummy Bears are one thing, but Jello?), let alone with the exec who wanted pig’s feet.
Pig’s feet? Pig’s feet!
That’s another item that, along with the tuna sandwich, should be banned from flying.
I’ve actually never eaten pig’s feet, but for some reason – and it’s way too late to ask – my father found them a real delicacy. He’d buy an occasional jar, secure in the knowledge that no one in his family would be clamoring to share the snack. Maybe it’s an Irish thing. Maybe crubeens were a staple in his father’s saloon. But I can still picture what they looked like, in my mind’s eye, and the picture ain’t pretty. In fact, it’s pretty gag-inducing. (And I have a somewhat iron stomach.) I actually like pigs. And I do eat pork. But just think of where those trotters were trotting?)
Anyway, it’s unlikely that I’ll ever see the inside of a private jet, so I really shouldn’t worry about what I’d be served while in flight. But if I could request anything I wanted, it sure wouldn’t be pig’s feet.
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