Text 19360, 82 rader
Skriven 2014-11-14 05:14:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: Asia trip 275
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UA 930 SFO LHR 1700 1125 744 15AB

It's worth wading through the crowds at the gate to get on
the queen of the skies, which rumor and commonsense have it
will gradually be retired in the next few years. I still
don't see why they can't just retrofit the 747s with more
efficient engines and keep them going for a long time, but
my prejudices are talking. It's always an excitement
climbing those stairs and proceeding to my little palace at
the exit row. I remember the first time I did so, decades
ago, as if it were yesterday, and the special feeling still
persists more than just a little.

These of course used to be the choicest seats on the, or
perhaps any US, aircraft, along with row 9 on the P.S. 757.
Now, with the pods, they are just like all the others. Some
consider this an improvement, but I liked the old seats
(disparagingly referred to as Barcaloungers by the young)
a lot better, especially with all that legroom. Now row 15
is backward-facing, which is a bit peculiar, though the
arrangement is a bit disorienting to begin with no matter
which direction you're pointed.

It was a perfectly fine flight, with all the cheap red
plonk one could choke down, but I saved myself for the
presumably better offerings later. I did try Lilli's
Burgans Albarino 11 (Rias Baixas), which was pleasantly
peachy and insignificant. She also had a bit of red, but
I was asleep before that was poured. Which meant of course
that I missed the meal service. I would have liked to see
what United could do with Newburg-style seafood: fillet of
turbot and shrimp with a creamy lobster sauce, green lentils
and mixed vegetables, but my pills were in the carryon and
I'd have had to get up and rummage around in the closet,
causing a ruckus, to find them.

I did wake up in time to partake of breakfast: nasty
scrambled eggs, semi-nasty potato cake, really horrid spongy
tasteless turkey sausage. Orange juice.

After the usual longish walk, transit formalities were easy.

It was a bit of a trek to Terminal 4, involving threading
our way through the bowels of the airport and then the
dreaded bus, but at least the Qatar lounge was easy to find.

The staff, an assortment of beautiful people (mostly female)
of various nationalities, were very attentive, perhaps
overly so. Seating was nice and modern; there was soothing
but inane middle-eastern-tinted new-age music to provide
atmosphere. A cafe and a dining room; we chose the latter.

The bubbly on offer was Veuve La Grande Dame 04, which was
of a perfect ripeness, just with a tiny edge of oxidation
that brought out the nuts and lemon aspect. I am always
amused (lie: I am always outraged) by the vast majority of
food writers who claim that Champers is best fresh off the
line - they seem to prize intensity of carbonation above all
things, either that or they are palate dead, which I suspect
as well.

An Arabic mezze plate was pretty tasty and not too dairy
ridden though extremely starchy: lamb sambousek (like
samosas), lamb kofta (meatballs), lamb sfiha (lahmejun),
zaatar manakish (crackers), spinach fatayer (like samosas),
olives, pickles, Arabic flatbread (like pide but puffier).

The level of the still wines was not so high, and Chateau La
Freynelle 09 was charmless, fruitless, and justified only by
some nice acid and tannin to scour the lamb fat off my
tongue.

The cafe, which you walk past on the way to and from the
dining room, has an amazing selection of snacks and desserts
- we passed, though perhaps we shouldn't have.

More quick and painless, and soon we were on our big fancy
'bus and off to Qatar.

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