Solo travel 101: how to dine alone

From tasting menus for one in Birmingham to the strategic joys of counter seating in New York, our seasoned solo travellers reveal how to go it alone with confidence

Despite the growing popularity of solo travel, dining alone is often seen as the final frontier of independence. Many travellers, no matter how confident, still feel that twinge of anxiety when faced with a table set for one. But here’s the thing – eating alone can be one of the most liberating experiences not just of your travels, but of your life – an opportunity to immerse yourself in the local culture, engage your senses fully and enjoy your own company.

For travel journalist Rhonda Carrier, it can be a pathway to greater wellbeing and self-determination. “I’ve loved dining alone since I was 18 and living solo in Hong Kong. It made me feel so free and grown-up,” she says. “Nearly 40 years later, and separated from my partner, I’ve found solo meals while travelling a refuge, too, from domestic responsibilities – moments when I don’t have to worry about what anyone else wants or needs and I can just indulge in being me. It’s a kind of self-care.”

By changing the way we think about eating alone and learning from those who have mastered it, we can turn solo dining into a highlight of our travels. In fact, dining alone has never been more on-trend. From ‘Riding Solo’ tasting menus designed for solo foodies at the Mackenzie Room in Vancouver to solo-friendly small plates (best enjoyed from a window seat) at Campania and Jones in London, the restaurant industry is making major moves to attract this growing market of diners.

How to eat alone, by Gary Janetti

I never feel sad when I see someone eating alone. In fact, I usually want to trade places. But it did take me a long time before I would move from [eating at] the counter to a table. Once you commit to sitting alone at a table, you’re really committing to proving to the entire restaurant just how self-reliant and unbothered by others’ opinions you really are. All eyes are on you.

But at a table, you have agreed to slow it all down. You want the full experience. To wallow in your oneness. And oh, how wonderful that can be! No waiting until the other person is ready to order, nobody to count your cocktails (well, maybe the other diners, but nobody you know), no hearing about your dinner companion’s job or kids. When eating alone, you can sit with your own thoughts. Casually people-watch. Dispense with the charade of splitting a dessert.

Doing it once was the hard part. Now it’s fun: a night out with me. A book, a phone, nothing. As long as there are French fries and a glass of wine. Some stranger maybe to share a smile with. To be alone and not alone at the same time. That is the trick.

If you’re nervous about eating alone, then always start by seating yourself at the counter. It’s a great way to dip your toe in the water. Restaurants that don’t have waiter service, like Ottolenghi in London, are another great way to try it out. You place your order at a counter, and they give you a number to take back to a table and then bring you your food.

Or just jump right in. Go to the restaurant that you want to go to while you’re travelling and make a reservation. And if you feel bad, this is what I do – I’ll make a reservation for two. And then when I get there, I say, “Oh, my other party couldn’t make it”. Go in as someone whose dinner companion just cancelled but you are still going to forge ahead with dinner, because that’s the kind of person you are! And you can repeat that to the waiter as they clear away the other setting. They’ll usually say, “Well, we’ll take good care of you”, and then you’re fine. A little white lie might help ease you into it.

I love dining solo in London, especially at Barrafina in Soho. It’s Spanish tapas and is a wonderful place to eat alone because the entire restaurant is just a counter. Plus, as a single person you can usually cut the queue.

Balthazar in New York is another favourite. It’s great because if you’re not ready to make the leap to a reserved table for one, you can go sit at the bar (where there are also little tables) and suss it all out. You don’t need a reservation and every person who dines alone there gets a glass of Champagne. The first time it happened I thought it was just happening to me. I was like, “Oh how lovely!” Then I found out everyone who dines alone gets one.

An excerpt from TV writer/producer Gary Janetti's new book, travel memoir We Are Experiencing a Slight Delay (HarperCollins, £22)

Five more travel experts on their best solo dining experiences, plus their top tips for eating alone…

By Tracey Davies, travel writer and comedian
One of my favourite solo dining experiences was at 670 Grams in Digbeth, Birmingham. The chef is Solihull-born Kray Treadwell, Michelin’s Best Young Chef of the Year 2021, and the tiny room had graffiti on the walls and grime and hip-hop on the stereo. I love eating alone, but having a tasting menu takes it to the next level. It was like I was on a romantic date with each plate. The tiny New York deli sandwich made with Wagyu beef, the cured salmon with an onion bhaji, the Custard Factory tart – each of the 12 courses had a connection with Birmingham. It was the most delicious tour of the city.

Top tip: when dining alone, really treat yourself. Order the glass of Whispering Angel, go for the lobster linguine. Pudding and cheese? Absolutely. Unless it’s a tasting menu, I do bring a good book to read. Just because I like it.

By Rob McFarland, travel writer
For me, there’s one city that stands head and shoulders above the rest when it comes to dining solo: New York. Walk into almost any eatery – from a neighbourhood bistro to a fancy-pants fine-diner – and there’ll be a bar where you can sit and order food. Not only does it avoid the awkwardness of sitting opposite an empty seat, but it’s a far more social set-up, so you’ll often end up chatting with the bartender or a fellow diner. My personal favourite is Osteria Cotta, a rustic Italian trattoria on the Upper West Side.

Top tip: resist the temptation to pick up your phone between courses. Instead, sit back and indulge in some grade-A people-watching. Odds are it’ll be way more entertaining.

By Alex Robertson Textor, travel writer and founder of Fields & Stations magazine
“It’s hard to pick just one great solo meal, so here are three: perching at the bar at one of my favourite restaurants anywhere, Winnipeg’s Deer + Almond, where the waiters are so relaxed and friendly you have to remind yourself they’re not your long-lost mates. Then there’s the time I sent an email so charming to Edinburgh’s fully booked (and sadly long-shuttered) Norn that I got squeezed in for a remarkable lunch before noon. The last was a morning in Van, in eastern Turkey, at an outrageously good breakfast ‘salon’, where I was sent on my way with yogurt doused in Hakkâri honey.

Top tip: don’t take photos of your food. Or do, but don’t share them on social media. If you take lots of time to document your meals, you make it harder to enjoy the experience in real time.”

By Mary Novakovich, travel writer and author of My Family and Other Enemies: Life and Travels in Croatia’s Hinterland
I was in New York for the first time and had an evening on my own before I was to meet up with a friend the next night. I went to a local Moroccan restaurant and sat at a table for two. It was right beside a long table with about a dozen people, all Moroccan, gathered there to celebrate the patriarch’s birthday. They spotted me and immediately asked me to join them, which I did. They were so happy to be all together, and wanted me, a stranger, to share that happiness. It was a hugely enjoyable evening.

Top tip: if you want to read when dining solo, my tip would be to use a Kindle. It’s so much easier to prop up than a physical book.

By Maxine Sheppard, travel writer and editor
A few days after being made redundant I whisked myself off to Lake Como on a whim. Off a winding road in Varenna, I found an unpretentious trattoria overlooking the lake and enjoyed what is still my favourite ever solo meal. It wasn’t just the food – buttery, lavarello-stuffed ravioli and a glass of local Nosiola – or the smudgy view of mountains across the water. It was the delicious sense of possibility that comes with being alone. The unconditional freedom to take my time, order the extra glass, talk to a stranger, figure out my next move. If you let it, solo dining can be so much more than just another meal.

Top tip: try really hard not to let self-consciousness ruin your experience. You deserve to savour your dinner as much as the family at the next table. One of them probably wishes they were you!