“That’s not a United salad.”
On the flight home from our most recent trek through France, Italy, Greece and Albania, we decide to spruce up the on-board meal with a few bits and pieces left over from the trip. When the flight crew brings the cellophane-covered tray, we break out the picnic: Olives from southern France and Albania, hard feta cheese from Corfu and hard-boiled eggs that were part of picnic lunch packed by the kind innkeepers at Kelemi House hotel in Gjirokastra.
When one of the flight attendants walks by later to pick up the trays, we’re still savoring the flavors of the Mediterranean.
“Hey, that’s not a United salad. It looks a lot better,” she says with a smile.
We nod in agreement. Nothing against airline food per se, but the astringent olives, the pungent cheese and creamy, farm-fresh yolk of the egg are powerful reminders of all we’ve seen and done along the way.
Now, if we can only figure out a way to smuggle that pomegranate through customs!
