This column is dedicated to advice for the lone diner. First of all, it’s not your fault, so don’t apologise. Instead of walking into the restaurant and saying,
“I’m on my own, but if it’s OK with you, could I possibly get something to eat, maybe?“, try saying proudly, “A table for one, thanks.”

I’m quite comfortable eating on my own, and not just because I find my own company particularly fascinating. For a start, I don’t have to share my pizza. Nobody sticks her fork in my bowl and helps herself to the best piece of brisket. And I can order another cheeky glass of Muscadet without hearing an eyebrow being raised on the other side of the table.

In further advice, don’t take a book with you because (a), you’ll ruin it with splodges of bolognese sauce, and (b), it will stop people from interacting with you. And people are always nice to lone diners – especially other lone diners.
I was perched at the counter of a ramen joint the other day when the young office-worker on the next stool started chatting. Twenty minutes later, we ordered a beer and some tempura. It made my day, and possibly his.

I’m quite comfortable eating on my own, and not just because I find my own company particularly fascinating.

Also, choose your dining venue well. Food courts, pubs and hawker stalls are purpose-built for single-use diners, but contemporary dining trends make it easier to fly solo with the rise of bars, counter-dining and communal tables. Menus are more flexible (snacks!), and the quality of wines available by the glass is improving.

I also have advice for those who work in restaurants. Don’t assume a solo guest wants to hide away in a corner: they may prefer a bold, showtime spot at the bar. Stay a little longer at their table for a chat and a laugh. And please don’t take away their second chair, even if you need it.

With it, there’s always the possibility, and perception, that someone will join them. Without it, they lose more than furniture: they lose a potential adventure.
The best thing about dining solo is that it costs half as much as dining out as a couple, so feel free to order what you really want. Maybe not a jug of margarita and slow-roast whole shoulder of lamb – but then again, why not? Who’s to know?

theemptyplate@goodweekend.com.au