I wouldn't sail this ship if I were you
1. The diners are served a banquet of lies; amazing, outrageous and mouthwatering ones. Each lie contains its own recipe. The diners cannot wait to get home so that they can try to make the lies for their family and friends as well. Conveniently, the lies address why everyone is still curiously hungry.
2. The dining room and all the furniture in it are made of pasta, as the diners discover when their chairs collapse. Chorizo trapezes are lowered from the ceiling for them to perch on. Everything else (pasta, coats, bags et cetera) falls through the newly opened floor into a vat of boiling water to be cooked. Nozzles in the walls dispense cooling sprays, sauce and wine for the diners. Those whose credit cards have been boiled are allowed to call on the audacious ghosts of the Futurist movement to avenge their loss.
3. The first course is plants. The second course is a bird that has been fed on those plants. The third course is a beast which has been fed on those birds. The diners are given the option of discreetly leaving before dessert. After a long and occasionally agonizing wait, the candied flesh of the remaining diners is served to the hooded waitresses, who have been tapping their fingers on the table all this while.
4. The supper is a great gathering of mighty worms from space. They intend to eat Brazil (the coast for a starter, moving on slowly to the pampas, with the rainforest to finish). For some reason humanity insists on referring to this as an invasion rather than a light and civilised supper. Nuclear weapons are deployed. The worms realise there are little stinging creatures all over their meal and retreat to Alpha Centuri. The wormish chef is deported to the Large Magellanic Cloud for gastronomical stupidity. In the centuries to come, lovers in low Earth orbit will eat their suppers by the light of the rainforest and call it beautiful.
5. Diners enter a well-decorated library of fairy tales. A roast wolf is served on a great platter. With a theatrical flourish, a woodsman enters to carve the wolf. From the steaming cavern of its belly rises Little Red Riding Hood, rosy with heat and wrapped only in an indigestible space blanket.
