All aboard the egg-spress: is eating on the Tube ever OK?

It’s hard not to feel sorry for the sweet chilli chicken bento accompanying me on the Central line. Wasabi’s finest didn’t ask to come here and be silently judged. “Can you tell me if there are onions in that? My eyes are watering”, sniffs a lady sitting to my left, suddenly breaking the fourth wall of commuting by leaning in to wrinkle her nose at my lunch, blanching, then actually talking to me. The entire Tube carriage is glaring at the bento. Silently, I apologise to my lunch, then sneak another bite.

I’d be the first to admit my aromatic meal is a mild olfactory assault. But attacks on pungent foods are kicking up a stink of their own. Just this week, a case involving one commuter hurling abuse at another for eating a boiled egg from a Tupperware box on the train was resolved in court. City worker Samantha Mead was said to have flown into a rage at Erika Stoter on a 6am Greater Anglia service from Chelmsford to Liverpool Street. 

Ms Stoter told a jury at Blackfriars crown court that Mead became agitated and put on a “bad face” when she started eating the eggs, which she admitted gave off a strong smell. 

“The woman asked me if I spoke English and I said no because I was scared and confused,” Miss Stoter told the court. “I thought she would stop. She said, ‘You are disgusting’.” Mead, from Manningtree in Essex, was cleared of a racially aggravated public order offence, but found guilty of one charge of intentionally causing harassment, alarm or distress, and on Friday was fined £750 and ordered to pay £750 in compensation. 

The whole affair leaves a bad taste in the mouth, so I set out to test what kind of appetite the capital has for smelly foods on the Tube. “That looks healthy,” someone says, raising an eyebrow, as I try to take a bite of a McDonald’s McMuffin while standing on the District line. Top trolling. A man tuts as I take on an egg sandwich. Timing is relevant here. Go to work on an egg may be creditable defence for Miss Stoter’s 6am protein boost, but an egg sarnie at 8am is just frowned upon. So is dropping sandwich crumbs on your fellow passenger’s lap.

To be certain of testing an appropriate smelly foods sample, repeat offenders were crowd-sourced at the office. McDonald’s, in all its glorious forms, and energy drinks were agreed to be among the worst offenders in the confined carriage or bus, because the smell lingers. Sushi, weirdly, was held to be OK, while another colleague contended that the smell of a freshly baked pastry may even improve the mood of the average commuter. If Transport for London wants further such inspired ideas, you know where to find us.   

Whose side is London really on, though? Food shaming at best seems like a lazy sneer, at worst creeping bigotry — remember the brief infamy enjoyed by the Women Who Eat On Tubes Facebook group in 2014 before it was cancelled? Many people in London work more than one job and might not have the time to have a sit-down meal in between shifts. An exhausted-looking man in hi-vis overalls, ordering a 9am chicken katsu curry at the Kensington Wasabi, tells me he’d “eat anything after the night shift I’ve had, as long as it’s not vegan”. 

At the same time, the nose wrinklers do have a point. I work only one job, and — today — that job involves performing junk-food exhibitionism on the London Underground. I’m due some criticism. “It just makes me feel a bit like you haven’t thought about anyone else sitting on this carriage,” says my onion-intolerant friend, after I’ve bashfully lidded my lunch. (After a review of the recipe on Wasabi’s website, she was absolutely right to take issue: “onion green pepper” is a prominent ingredient.)

The reality of etiquette on London’s transport network is that people are generally enraged if they’re forced to acknowledge your existence, whether eating or playing music too loudly. In light of this, I found the best way to appease grumblers was to radiate shame, trying to sneak bites out of my egg sandwich from behind a coat lapel. Guilt-signalling seemed to mollify the crowd.   

Smell is a complication when it comes to our public behaviour. We assume smell to be uniform and therefore assume that the person next to us will be picking up the same smells that we are. In fact, each of us each of us inhabits our own, personal olfactory world. The human nose contains roughly 400 olfactory receptors, each of which responds to several odorants — but no two people will have the same genetic make-up for those receptors. One person’s comfort food is another’s worst nightmare. 

Food in a subterranean situation is also funny. It just is. Harry from McFly was spotted eating a pad thai on the Tube by writer Alim Kheraj in March, and no more need be said of the matter. Likewise the woman whom actor Jack Oliver spotted taking out a bowl and some milk and making herself Weetabix on the tube. Then eating it with a fork. On the bus, if possible, the scrum is even tighter, and so food at rush hour is a flat no if you value your life.

The night bus, however, is a different playbook altogether: anything goes. Eat a swan, see if anyone cares. And so, feeling ashamed and slightly sick after so many snacks —  a McMuffin, an egg sandwich, and a sweet chilli chicken bento box before midday — I wend my way back to the office, wondering what I’m going to do with the leftovers from the curry I made last night, and which I’d packed in a Tupperware box for my actual lunch.

Should I give it away to someone in need? Could I give it away to anyone who would consider it edible? It was certainly the most pungent thing I’d unboxed all day. 

To my surprise, a man on my left in the carriage suddenly leaned in to sniff my lunch. “Can you tell me if there’s turmeric in that? It smells really good,” he said. Then, the man on my right took an AirPod earphone out, turned to us and said, “For real, I’m quite jealous.” My ego exploded. Home cooking: apparently the secret line to the commuter’s heart.   

Tube Etiquette: A guide to safe snacking by Katie Strick 

Sometimes life is too busy not to sneak a quick snack on the Central line — but there are rules. From carriage politics to what (and what not) to eat, here is the etiquette of the Underground.  

Choose your weapon 

If in doubt, assume library rules: no chit-chat, no rowdy behaviour and, crucially, no smelly or noisy food. Smoked salmon, tuna and garlic are off the menu, eggs are forbidden and avoid anything that could send sauce or crumbs tumbling on to your neighbour’s lap. To the woman with a bowl of Weetabix, milk included, and man drinking the juice from a packet of feta cheese (see Twitter), we’re looking at you. 

Location, location, location 

Picking an inoffensive cheese sandwich might save you from opprobrium, but it won’t win you any friends on the Northern line at rush hour. Choose your snack spot wisely. A burger on the Night Tube at 4am is fine as long as you don’t wave it in other people’s faces, and sit in the final or quietest carriage. 

No photos, please

The rules apply to non-eaters, too: stay away from stranger-shaming, especially any Facebook group to do with women who eat on the Tube — or men, for that matter. Celebrities have feelings, too. If you spot Breaking Bad’s Bryan Cranston sneaking a sandwich on the Tube, as one lucky Twitter user did, at least do the decent thing and hide his face.  

Keep it clean

Don’t forget your manners below ground level — no one wants to sit on a half-empty crisp packet or slip on a banana skin. Keep it clean.