Plane Food

It is also sleek and futuristic. Its clean, uncluttered lines are partly due to the lack of seats - thus encouraging the free-flow of passengers into the departure lounges and helping prevent that eyesore of travellers bedding down for the night and making the place look like a refugee camp.

Huge rectangular screens transmitted pretty landscape pictures until, very disconcertingly, words began to flash up. Words like: life, speed, harmony, expand. I shivered. It felt like a cross between an induction at a health club and brainwashing. But I was whisked through one of the check-in desks to airside, where I had a last indulgent meal at a proper restaurant before flying to Austria.

Food on aeroplanes is not what it used to be. Shaving the price off fares and public indifference to in-flight food means those foil trays of indistinguishable ingredients are a thing of the past. These days you are mostly offered sandwiches with no real appeal. Which is where Gordon Ramsay's latest brainchild comes in. Plane Food - geddit? The idea is that you eat before you fly, leaving you all that free airtime to snooze, read or tap away on your laptop.

The restaurant is - as you might expect - very light and airy, with what I'm assured are stunning views. Unfortunately, there was a blanket of cloud on the day I was there, and all I could see was the mighty snout of a plane looming out of the mist. The room is painted white and deep terracotta and there is a large, trapeze-like chandelier which looks like a shower of giant glass pebbles cascading down from the ceiling. Very pretty. Service is swift and efficient, which is exactly what you want when you're watching the clock. My expectations were not exactly sky high - I've eaten at two Ramsay gastropubs and been distinctly underwhelmed.

The menu offers every permutation of food for the hungry traveller. You can have an all-day breakfast. There are sandwiches, pastas and risottos but I decided on the three-course blowout (did I mention that I was headed for a spa weekend?).

I started with Caesar salad, pancetta and softboiled egg. Along came a plate of sweet, crunchy little heads of cos covered in a creamy dressing. The crisp pancetta was smoky and delicious, the egg really was soft and the anchovies the freshest I have eaten in England. The dish was a revelation and I was reluctant to continue with my meal because I wanted to keep the memory of this starter intact.

But I soldiered on with a slab of roasted cod sitting on a mound of crushed peas - as green as a Welshman's valley - accompanied by a neat pile of polenta chips. These were disappointing (as polenta always is), but I had also ordered potato chips, which were so crispily, meltingly wonderful that I was tempted to give them 10/10 in the chip test. (Though obviously, I can't - or there will be no dizzy new heights for Gordon to scale.)

Since the fog showed no signs of clearing and I had time to kill, I tried the chocolate and pecan brownie. Beautifully presented, it was dense, dark and rich and included a little pot of vanilla-flecked sauce as well as ice cream.

The place was packed and the atmosphere casual and relaxed, despite the flight-delaying weather. I saw a giggling hen party, super-serious businessmen, families, extended families and couples. It was an ad-man's dream of a customer base, infused with the glamour that Terminal 5 has sprinkled on the flying experience. The staff are wonderful - the manager is a particular joy - and the food is utterly sublime.

Ramsay should fly this brilliant concept to London and use it in the capital's woefully underresourced railway stations. He could call it Train Food. Plain and simple.