Travel Picnic

I wish I could be like Amanda Hesser in this Food Diary entry in the Times a while back. (I found it through A Cup of Jo) I always end up eating whatever food is available to me on the plane/in the airport and I always regret it. I think the travel-proof ingredients and containers are key.

"About a month ago, I was going to Spain, and I had a lot on my mind. But there was one thing that took priority: what to eat on the airplane?

It was an overnight flight, so there were a number of issues to consider. I would need dinner and dessert and perhaps something for just before arrival. I had a few parameters, developed over years of air travel: it must be compact and light, yet it cannot be skimpy. It must include favorite foods like cheeses, cookies and olives, and it should in some way be lavish. This is because whenever I fly, I am convinced that I will die. So I put a lot of energy into being comfortable and creating a kind of cocoon around myself. I wear Bose headphones, which block out the roar of the engines (and hopefully any signs of malfunction), wrap myself in a blanket and wear one of those blow-up neck pillows. Food in the cocoon is most important. I want the meal to be delicious and civilized: if it's going to be my last one, it's certainly not going to be some rubbery chicken suffocating in tinfoil.

I pack my meal in a plastic bag, and at the airport I buy a large bottle of water. (You never get enough in coach.) Then after takeoff, even on early flights, when the flight attendants first bang through with their drink carts, I have my cocktail hour. I order a little sparkling water with a wedge of lemon and a Scotch, served neat. I fly Delta quite often, and they always seem to stock Johnnie Walker Black, which isn't bad. On overseas flights, they sometimes have Glenmorangie. You must press the attendants to look for all the brands, because even if they're friendly (which is rare indeed), they always seem to reach for the cheapest thing they have.

I suggest packing salted nuts. (At home, you can use a much better oil to roast the nuts and an excellent coarse sea salt for seasoning, touches you won't find in store-bought roasted nuts. And once in Spain, I loaded up on those delicious salted almonds for the way back.) Airlines may still serve them, if that small but very vocal group with nut allergies hasn't already ruined it for the rest of us. And some airlines have good pretzels, but I highly recommend passing on those Chex Mix-like combinations.

After the cocktail hour, it's a good idea to wait for everyone else to be served their meals before beginning your own. If you don't, you will be subject to much staring. And you also won't get the benefit of a knife and butter, which you can poach from a tray. This is important for buttering the chewy country roll you bring, or slicing a nutty, soft cheese. You may also like to have wine with your meal. It will be no Chateau Paetrus, but it won't be the rotgut of years past either. Airlines, though still in the dark ages on food, have smartened up about wine. I recommend reds because extra tannins are more bearable than the heavy, flabby oak you get in cheap whites.

For the main course, I often bring a sandwich. They were made for traveling, after all, and should not be disparaged. A good sandwich may contain the best foods in the world: excellent cured meats and cheeses, aged vinegars, nut oils, roasted onions, herbs and homemade mayonnaise.

One of my favorite sandwiches for the air is a thin baguette spread with sweet butter and lined with prosciutto. I also fancy a similar version without butter and simply olive oil, roasted red pepper and creamy mozzarella cheese.

This time, since I was on my way to Spain, the land of ham, I needed to think outside the box. It was spring, and the season's first asparagus was popping up, so I leapt on it at Fairway. There, I also picked up some fresh goat curd (regular soft goat cheese would have been fine), blood oranges and arugula. I bought big, plump medjool dates and a ripe pear. For breakfast, I chose an almond croissant from a nearby pastry shop.

A few hours before my flight, I blanched the asparagus and let it cool, then sliced it into inch-long pieces. I whisked blood-orange juice and vinegar with a little Dijon mustard, salt and pepper, dripping in grapeseed oil a little at a time. It was sweet and a moody shade of purple, which stained the arugula and bled all over the lumps of goat curd.

I could have added tuna instead of goat curd, some green beans or chickpeas, but I liked its simplicity, a tangle of strong, pure flavors. I packed the salad in a plastic container (which I just tossed when I got there) and brought a napkin and a real fork (which, disturbingly, makes it through the X-ray machine every time). I washed the fruit and put the cookies in a baggie.

For dessert, almost any tart, cake or petit four may be packed. Don't bother making anything. Buy a treat. It will give you something to look forward to, deep into the flight, after being forced to watch ''Shallow Hal.'' I picked up some cornmeal-almond biscotti and dark chocolates and went on my way."