Late Saturday morning, I walk into Barcelona, a popular tapas restaurant near me, skip the host and the line, and make a left for the bar. I treat this place as an extension of my kitchen. I walk into a room full of people, not knowing anyone or looking for any and that doesn’t bother me. Most people are with someone. Mostly women. I grab my favorite seat near one end of the U-shaped bar. I am lucky that it’s available. I recognize the two female bartenders who smile at me. Scanning the menu, I order my brunch. Pancakes and bacon. No-fuss. I am in a good mood because of the sun. Let’s have a mimosa too.
I had long decided that being single wouldn’t stop me from eating out, which I loved. Initially, I was quite self-conscious and couldn’t say “for one” confidently nor sit still silently waiting for the food to come. But I soon realized nobody gave a crap. Being seen as one, the only person making me uncomfortable was me.
After years of practicing, I now enjoy the experience 100%. One secret for successful solo eating is to sit at the bar where single people comfortably gather. Another is to go earlier during the evening to not compete with the rush hour when the bar is packed. And very importantly, I make it a thing. I dress up just like going to dinners with friends or on dates with men because it’s fun and makes me feel good. I’m enough and as important to me.
Eating out started as a social event, mainly conversations with a boyfriend or friends. It has evolved to be about the food, staff, people watching, and ambiance without other people. Especially the food. I maximize the dining out experience by eating as slowly as possible and not rushing to run out of a restaurant like I am doing something wrong eating alone, being single.
Barcelona isn’t the only place I have a favorite solo spot. Plus, I keep track of my favorite dishes at different restaurants. I’m not a cook, so every dish feels like a treat. Secret number four is to order what I can’t cook at home. Just look at these. Sultan's delight with tamarind beef, smoky eggplant purée, and basil. Burrata and citrus salad with charred snow peas, piquillos, onions, and pea tendrils. It doesn’t always have to be fancy. I can also enjoy simple evergreen gotos like french toast, chirashi, or steak.
Sometimes, unexpectedly, there would be food and conversation. A good-looking man started talking to me at the Barcelona bar a few weeks ago. We discussed both being foodies while eating separate but identical cream brûlées. We moved closer to each other so we could hear each other better. In his fifties, he also comes to Barcelona frequently and regularly. He made a good living, he said. We briefly shared our travel stories. I wondered if he was going to ask me for my number. Then he told me why he was alone. He was single and divorced his wife because she wanted to be a doctor, to have a career. “I make enough to support both of us. Why does she need to work? I want to be with someone who can focus on the family.” In 2022? I left shortly.
At a new restaurant, I walk in and look at the host. “One, please, for dinner.” I can’t wait to scope out the bar and check out the menu.