Table for one – would you dine alone?

Even as a teenager, I loved eating out solo. A little unusual perhaps, but I come from a Jewish family whose conversation veritably revolves around food and my preferred reading, aged eight, was the My Learn to Cook Book, the one with all the cat and dog cartoons racing around the pages. I’d devour cookbooks at the homes of my grandma and my aunt. There was Evelyn Rose and Florence Greenberg, of course, but what I really loved were those that evoked sunny Mediterranean eating like Robert Carrier.

Hence, my Saturday afternoon ritual – post working in John Lewis rather than going shul I admit – of taking myself out to The Stockpot on the King’s Road. It encapsulated the kind of bistro I imagined Simone de Beauvoir would hang out in whilst discussing philosophy and feminism with Sartre and made me feel terribly sophisticated even though I was only 16. My favourite order was salade nicoise followed by creme caramel, for the grand total of £4 – about a third of my earnings – and so worth it.

No wonder I am so bemused by the current rumpus about solo dining with London’s newest (and actually most reasonably-priced tasting menu) two Michelin star restaurant Alex Dilling at The Cafe Royal. (The hotel is owned by Alfred Akirov, a Tel Aviv-based real estate company which has hotels in Jerusalem, Amsterdam and Paris). The restaurant’s new policy on solo dining has been ridiculously misconstrued in the press. Meanwhile in Barcelona restaurants are banning solo diners from eating on the terrace. These are not gastronomic havens but regular, nothing-special restaurants with large seating capacity wanting to maximise their tourist bucks.

Back in London, understandably, profit margins still count against the solo diner, but surely we all want independent businesses and ultra-talented young chefs to thrive. As Victoria Sheppard, owner and chief executive of Alex Dilling’s restaurant explained: “Since getting our second Michelin star (in a record six months of opening) we have had up to five solo diners wanting to book in advance, with some even coming from beyond the UK as gourmet tourists. This is incredibly flattering, yet we’ve often found ourselves with 20 people on our waiting lists for tables of two to six. In a restaurant with only 11 tables, that’s a huge hit to our still-new business. We decided to only have one or two solo tables bookable in advance per service, though walk-ins or bookings on the day for one, should we have a spare table, are most welcome. We are categorically not banning solo diners as some media rushed to portray”.

The restaurant is looking at offering shorter tasting menus at the bar beyond the beautiful main dining room with prime views into the vast glass-fronted kitchen. Dining at the bar overlooking the culinary engine room is catnip to a serious foodie like me. What could be better than actually seeing some of the techniques at play to create the dishes and vicariously experiencing the buzz of a fast-paced kitchen operating at full pelt?

I vividly remember dining solo at the late great Joel Robuchon’s trailblazing L’Atelier du Robuchon in Paris. Inspired by his love of Spain and tapas, Robuchon, whose restaurants held the most Michelin stars in the world, was the first high-end dining room to introduce dining at the counter. I was incredibly fortunate to have Robuchon himself finishing off his legendary decadent pomme puree with lashings of cream and butter before me, plus all manner of other intricate delicacies. What’s more I got to talk to him (strictly in French) and some of the debonair bon vivants dining beside me.

I’ve relished similar starry experiences at Niklas Ekstedt in Stockholm where he showed me how he tames the flames to cook (his restaurant within the Royal Scotland Yard hotel in London offers similar) and many restaurants in New York and Montreal where I was travelling solo.

Grazing at the bar was a great way to eat when I spent a few days alone in Seville (though several more traditional diners raised eyebrows at my nonchalantly sitting at the bar alone) and even with a bit of a language barrier (my Spanish is purely foodcentric), I felt I was in like-minded company. Similarly, I met an unashamedly foodie guy with a high-flying film producer career over croquetas at London’s Charing X Barrafina a few years back whom I have kept in touch with on a purely platonic/professional basis.

Can romance flourish through solo dining? I have certainly tried once or twice to chat up the intriguing handsome chap on the next solo table. In one memorable case, it resulted in a strong friendship with a gorgeous, interesting South American guy whose company I greatly enjoyed, though he turned out to not have a predilection for women.

I confess I am probably more than usually confident about embracing solo dining. Perhaps it is a family thing. My 91-year-old Dad will happily take himself off to lunch or dinner on his own, preferably when there is jazz on the menu too.

Think of the advantages. If there is somewhere you’re longing to try, but not sure friends would share your enthusiasm nor that you can afford to treat a friend, go for it. After all, you’re guaranteed the company of someone you hopefully like. Dining alone means there is no struggle with awkward small talk nor any danger of a row nor disapproving glares if you flirt with the waiter, catillate (use your little finger to lick up the delectable sauce) – or order a second digestif.

What I would suggest to those newer to eating out alone is not to bury yourself in a book, nor commune solely with your Instagram followers. Rather experience it positively and watch what’s unfolding, speculate on the dynamics of fellow diners and enjoy your food mindfully, relishing every bite and not having to offer tastes to your dining companion!

Fancy yourself as a food writer? Sudi Pigott runs food writing workshops  – next one 9 September. Visit sudifoodie.com to find out more