Solo Dining
The sounds of drunk St. Paddy’s day celebrants follow me on my walk to Boston’s North End neighborhood. For me, it’s the evening before a work week away from home. These nights are lonely, traveling for the simple purpose of being in person for my client team. Connections are made in the real world, I say, although a part of me still wishes I was going to bed in my own apartment, surrounded by books in my favorite room of the Lower East Side. That’s not the case, so I find other plans.
I reach Hanover Street and begin my walk through countless Italian restaurants, cafes, gelato shops, and St. Paddy’s day drunks. OpenTable recommended a place I haven’t tried before, Carmellina’s. It’s a very small restaurant compared to its peers in the area, just what I wanted. I inquire if they have room at the bar, and after a moment of hesitation, the host gives up on the couple that reserved it and chose me instead. That felt nice. A glass of Sangiovese, an arugula salad, a copy of Rent Boy (my newest read), and the best goddamn chicken parm I’ve ever had accompany my visit. The bar has an unobstructed view of the 8-burner kitchen preparing countless dishes in unison. I enjoy watching the chefs cook. Their movement feels like water, flowing between pans, pots, boilers, fryers, and ultimately delivering their freshly made dishes onto the presentation shelf for the servers to spark joy in their hungry covers.
Another solo culinary memory comes to mind: Bar seat at Boa Steakhouse in Santa Monica. Choosing to extend my stay over the weekend, I took myself out on a date. The bartender makes me a pink drink fuming with liquid nitrogen and muses on how it makes him happy when he sees men order the “fun drinks”. The manager taps me on the shoulder and tells me that I remind him of his favorite nephew, Henry (I should have asked for a picture), and gives me a drink on the house. I then had the best steak of my life: A NY strip served with an apple peppercorn sauce and grilled asparagus on the side. It’s been over 3 years and I still remember this meal vividly.
One more: Salzburg, 2024. Following a wedding in Munich, I came here in hopes of connecting with my father in a new way, through living the memories he had shared from living in Austria during his 20s. After a day spent retracing his steps through the city that inspired him all these years ago, I felt was hungry for local cuisine, exactly what he would have done in my shoes. The hotel manager directed me to a different hotel’s restaurant, Zum Zirkelwirt, nestled in a warm alleyway awaiting my arrival. A glass of Austrian Riesling accompanied an unbelievable fried asparagus, followed by a glass of “Heideboden” to pair with the most tender sauerbraten I’ve ever enjoyed. I savored every moment, excited to make my father jealous the next time I call.
Why did these meals leave such a vivid impression and memory?
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My theory is this: The act of solo dining heightened my attention and subsequent enjoyment of not just the food, but the ambiance, interactions, and the subsequent memory they all create. I still believe that even if the food wasn’t the best, I’d remember these meals better than a classic dinner out with friends (no shade). Consider it as a form of meditation, being totally present with the space and food you came there for with a detachment from the feeling of having to “entertain” or constantly engage with someone else. It’s just you, and you can decide to do whatever you want: sit there in silence, chat with your neighbors, read a book, look around, anything! In any case, the intention that got you through the door alone as a solo culinary adventurer sets you up for a unique experience.
Given my examples above, it’s worth mentioning that each of these took place during travels, where we may not always have the option to go with anyone else. What about where we live? Why is it so much easier to do it everywhere else except home? That’s a challenge I’d like to pose: find a spot in your area you’ve wanted to try and set a date to go there by yourself. From my perspective, it’s a fantastic way to slip into those consistently booked restaurants, there’s always room for 1 at the bar! I consistently challenge myself to do this in New York, having realized that it’s just as easy as doing it anywhere else, but I recognize the intimidation behind that prospect.
Many, myself included, think back to negative memories when the idea of “eating alone” comes to mind. It recalls times in our younger years where we were excluded, struggling to find our own foothold as our identities grow among our peers in youth. Even the media we grew up consuming would show that one scene of the new kid eating alone in the bathroom stall, to drive home the feeling of isolation we are to associate with the act of eating by yourself within a communal eating space. Now picture the scene of a downtrodden main character, sitting alone at the diner languishing over a broken heart, extra effort put in to make them seem particularly pitiful. We’ve all seen it. The negative perception is ingrained into our minds! Think inward, what do you think when you imagine eating alone at a restaurant? Have you ever done it? What do you think when you see someone else doing it? In my opinion, there’s nothing sad about it at all, we are all allowed to take up space, even if it’s a table for 1.
I propose we change the way we look at this subject by changing the way we talk about it! “Solo dining” sounds better to me, none of this “eating alone” verbiage. The enjoyment of food is something we all have in common, so go out and enjoy it! Solo!
Optimistically,
Jon
