Tuesday, 7 May 2024 Tallahassee to Prague

Written 9 May 2024

We flew out of Tallahassee at midmorning (thank you once again, Neighbor Carolyn, for a prompt and reliable ride to the airport) and made it without incident to Atlanta, then passed most of an agreeable-enough five-hour lay-over in Delta's Concourse F sky club there. Before going into the lounge, we had lunch at Ecco, on Concourse F. We split a meat-and-cheese platter featuring prosciutto, chicken-liver pâté, and Cambazola cheese (accompanied by fiercely spicy sweet-and-sour pickled fennel and carrot, a somewhat overcooked dried-fruit mostarda, and crispy toasts). The pâté, was good but not (IMHO) as good as the one I make.

From there, we went on to buccatini pasta in carbonara sauce.

The restaurant is on the mezzenine, and we were seated on the its balcony, overlooking the gate areas below and flanked by a wall bearing decorative metal outlines of the continents.

The Concourse F Sky Club is nice enough. Here's David, ensconced in one of its seating options. It affords a view out over the tarmac—the low, dark gray building in the distance at the right is Concourse E.

The cold buffet included the usual attractive layout of cold cuts, cheeses, dips, veggies, breads, and ready-made sandwiches. An array of four large chafing dishes held, in this case, grilled chicken with mustard BBQ sauce, cornbread and green beans, St. Louis style ribs, and (as always, in every Delta lounge), mac and cheese.

Delta has a lounge on every concourse in Atlanta (seven in all), and they try to make each one a little different. This one had a popcorn machine, accompanied by this comprehensive array of flavored sprinkles (ranch, buffalo wing, garlic Parmesan, bacon cheddar, etc.) to be added ad lib.

Finally, it included a "lemonade bar," where you could draw a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade, then add stuff to it, like strawberries, grenadine, or hibiscus syrup.

We were delighted to find that our trans-Atlantic flight would be operated by Delta's code-share partner Air France. Their food is usually very good, and we were eager to compare their flat-bed business-class seating with Delta's. On that latter score, Air France is the hands-down winner. The seats are much better designed, so that when you're upright, you have a shelf down by your feet to put things on like your shoes, pillow, and blanket when you're not using them. Then, when you want to fold out flat, you just move them to the shelf below, and the seat folds out over them (whereas Delta's risks bulldozing and crushing them). You also get a handy storage cubby with a door that folds out to reveal a mirror and an elastic mesh system that will hold, e.g., a phone but that can be closed and latched while in flight, so that you can doze without worrying that any sudden turbulence will send your water bottle and camera flying across the cabin. Each seat is even equipped with a sturdy coat hanger that can be hung from a little spring-loaded peg you can pop our of the wall for the purpose.

The amenity pouch is not as "organic" as the floppy, hand-made ones Delta is so proud of, but it's much more useful, having a secure zippered closure. I'm firmly of the opinion that you can never have too many zippered pouches, and this one is a fine addition to my collection, but I've given up on collecting Delta's.

The contents are arrayed here at the right: soft socks, a pen, a wooden toothbrush, two kinds of lotion, toothpaste, and a soft, velour-lined eyeshade.

The food was not as good as I had hoped. The starter was a pea flan—good but not great—accompanied by intense little cheese crisps. As always, the breads and butter were great—Air France does not chill its bread the way Delta does., but unfortunately the otherwise lovely lobster second course was stuck down with a splodge of mashed avocado. I ate the smaller piece, which hadn't touch it, but had to give the other piece to David.

The braised filet of beef was good (but who braises filet?!), and the asparagus was okay, but the potatoes au gratin consisted of a thin layer of quite good sliced potatoes topped with a thick layer of dry, spongy "gratin."

Dessert was a "chocolate ingot," which was the best course of the meal.

The choices for the prearrival breakfast were a potato omelet with spinach and a cold-cut and cheese plate. I eager selected the former, as the couple of egg dishes I've had on Air France were wonderful, but this one didn't measure up. The potato and Brie filling in that handsome omelet was tasty enough if pretty-well cold and congealed, but the egg casing was a cross between rubbery and leathery (naugahydy?)—dreadful! The custard phase of the previous evening's gratin dauphinois (French-style scalloped potatoes) was similarly horrible, managing to be both fluffy and dry as well. The yogurt turned out to be Greek style (not my favorite—kind of chalky textured), but it was okay with the little jar of honey.