Caviar? In business class?
Few places more clearly separate comfort from chaos than a long-haul aircraft.
Turn right upon entry, and a world of pain awaits: cramped quarters, crying kids
and dubious dishes. To the left, by contrast, you'll encounter expansive berths,
free-flowing Champagne and haute cuisine served on crisp tablecloths. But even
within this rarefied world, there are gradations: business class, for the merely
wealthy (or those subsidized by their bosses), and first class, the last redoubt
of the truly rich (at least those who can't be bothered to find a private
jet).
In recent years, the distinctions between the two have been evaporating, with business travelers frequently enjoying the erstwhile hallmarks of first class, such as lie-flat beds, sliding-door cabins, airline-branded pajamas and chauffeured limos to the airport. One indulgence, though, remained exclusive to the very front of the cabin: caviar.
Now Qatar Airways is disrupting the airborne culinary pecking order. Starting today, passengers in business class on various flights from Doha–to Paris, New York, Sydney and beyond–will be offered the pearly palate pleaser.
Qatar Airways' Qsuite business-class cabins look pretty comfy. Photographer: Jason Alden/Bloomberg
Long gone are the days when the plebes in steerage had to crane their necks for a glimpse of an outdated movie projected on a bulkhead-mounted screen with the crispness of a bathmat. Even coach passengers can enjoy an almost bottomless selection of movies on dedicated (if diminutive) screens, or book premium seats that hint at the front-of-the-plane comforts without the eye-watering fares. But whatever the democratization of air travel might bring, airlines have always plied only first-class passengers with fish roe—carriers are among the world's biggest buyers of the stuff—washed down with the most distinguished vintage bubbly.
True, some airlines still pile on extra perks for their highest-paying guests. Emirates has on-board showers in first class, and Etihad Airways offers what it calls the Residence—a veritable apartment in the sky, replete with butler service and full-size beds. Air France recently introduced a dedicated departure lounge for first class—excusez-moi, La Premiere, bien sur!—consisting of suites with a private outdoor patio and a generous living room gussied up with fresh flowers and fruit.
Yet all those contortions can't mask a simple truth: The first-class traveler, much like the sturgeon that provide the caviar, has become an endangered species. Many airlines stung by pandemic losses have abandoned the offering altogether, viewed as a bloated indulgence when business class, with its world-class wines, flat beds and exclusive lounges, is pretty darn good, at considerably lower cost. After all, installing top-of-the-range berths with their capacious screens, mood lighting and motors for reclining can easily cost an order of magnitude more than a standard economy seat.
Even Qatar has questioned the need for first class, with then-Chief Executive Officer Akbar Al Baker declaring last year that he doesn't see the necessity when the airline's Qsuite business proposition is essentially on par with first. So now that the poor sods in business class have joined the mile-high caviar club, they might well find themselves agreeing with that assessment.
In recent years, the distinctions between the two have been evaporating, with business travelers frequently enjoying the erstwhile hallmarks of first class, such as lie-flat beds, sliding-door cabins, airline-branded pajamas and chauffeured limos to the airport. One indulgence, though, remained exclusive to the very front of the cabin: caviar.
Now Qatar Airways is disrupting the airborne culinary pecking order. Starting today, passengers in business class on various flights from Doha–to Paris, New York, Sydney and beyond–will be offered the pearly palate pleaser.
Qatar Airways' Qsuite business-class cabins look pretty comfy. Photographer: Jason Alden/Bloomberg
Long gone are the days when the plebes in steerage had to crane their necks for a glimpse of an outdated movie projected on a bulkhead-mounted screen with the crispness of a bathmat. Even coach passengers can enjoy an almost bottomless selection of movies on dedicated (if diminutive) screens, or book premium seats that hint at the front-of-the-plane comforts without the eye-watering fares. But whatever the democratization of air travel might bring, airlines have always plied only first-class passengers with fish roe—carriers are among the world's biggest buyers of the stuff—washed down with the most distinguished vintage bubbly.
True, some airlines still pile on extra perks for their highest-paying guests. Emirates has on-board showers in first class, and Etihad Airways offers what it calls the Residence—a veritable apartment in the sky, replete with butler service and full-size beds. Air France recently introduced a dedicated departure lounge for first class—excusez-moi, La Premiere, bien sur!—consisting of suites with a private outdoor patio and a generous living room gussied up with fresh flowers and fruit.
Yet all those contortions can't mask a simple truth: The first-class traveler, much like the sturgeon that provide the caviar, has become an endangered species. Many airlines stung by pandemic losses have abandoned the offering altogether, viewed as a bloated indulgence when business class, with its world-class wines, flat beds and exclusive lounges, is pretty darn good, at considerably lower cost. After all, installing top-of-the-range berths with their capacious screens, mood lighting and motors for reclining can easily cost an order of magnitude more than a standard economy seat.
Even Qatar has questioned the need for first class, with then-Chief Executive Officer Akbar Al Baker declaring last year that he doesn't see the necessity when the airline's Qsuite business proposition is essentially on par with first. So now that the poor sods in business class have joined the mile-high caviar club, they might well find themselves agreeing with that assessment.
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