An Ode to Dining Alone
Do you have a bar seat for one?
It was a Friday evening, and instead of getting ready for a night with friends, I was at home, unsure of what to do with my Friday. It was one of those fateful nights where everyone I’d reached out to either had plans or wasn’t in the city, leaving me with the options of Me, Myself, and I. I’m fairly comfortable doing activities by myself. In fact, over the past year, I’d gotten quite good at traveling, going to concerts and plays, exploring new neighborhoods, visiting museums — you name it, by myself. The one activity I’ve struggled to do alone is eating at restaurants.
My solo endeavors weren’t my first choice, or even second choice, but rather a choice born of necessity. The past year, I was in a transitory state where I didn’t have many friends nearby. I accepted that I could either stay home and feel a looming cloud creep over me and the rush of the world moving on without me, or I could embrace my solo lifestyle and join the world. I’m really proud of myself for pushing my comfort levels and not letting the fear of being alone stop me from new life experiences. I also have a lot of respect for people who enjoy their alone time — as an extremely extroverted person, it’s just not for me.
I’ve been fortunate to have a strong community and group of people in my life in New York. I haven’t had to flex my solo activity muscles in months, and it was a relief until this Friday night. After exhausting my friend resources, I accepted I had two options.
Option A: Order in some food and have a chill night of tv, reading, and crocheting.
Option B: Face my anxieties and treat myself to a solo dinner at a nice restaurant.
I ultimately landed on Option B because if I got too nervous or my restaurant choice was booked, I could fall back on Option A, knowing I at least tried.
I’ve been trying to pinpoint exactly what makes solo dining so scary for me. I think it comes down to the fact that there’s no way of hiding that I am alone in an activity that’s deemed a group activity. I become hyperaware of the groups around me and the lack of groups that I’m included in, and it takes me back to the childhood feeling of not belonging. I’ll save my fears of not being a part of a group and feeling misunderstood for a therapy session, though.
Once I decided on my big Friday night solo date, I trotted over to the West Village, which is home to the most sceney restaurant and coveted reservation spots. My logic: even on a Friday night, there surely would be space for one lowly diner at the bar. When I arrived outside of Via Carota, I naturally did a sweep of the area, walking by and peering through the windows to get a feel for the crowd and any open seats. After I circled the block to hype myself up and called my boyfriend for a pep talk, there was no going back. I opened the door and locked eyes with the maître d’.
Hi there! Do you have any openings for one tonight?
My heart thumped in my chest as I tried my best to appear confident and nonchalant about my solo dinner request. The maître d’ graciously walked me to a bar seat nestled between a couple and another solo diner (!). Once I sat down, I quickly felt a whoosh of relief throughout my body, and I scoffed at myself for how silly I was to make a whole ordeal (and now a full blog post) out of a not-so-scary thing.
Starters
I was greeted by a ramekin of succulent Castelvetrano olives drowning in the most incredible olive oil. In fact, Chef Sodi sources the olive oil from her family’s farm in Barberino de Mugello each autumn, making it that much more special.
I learned from the bartender that what sets Via Carota apart from other Italian restaurants is its vegetable dishes. It really leans into seasonal veggies and creates dishes that are classic and simple and highlight Tuscan cooking.
New challenge unlocked: as a solo diner, I had to be very strategic about my menu selections because, unfortunately, I don’t have an endless pit of a stomach or unlimited money.
My starter was the Porri alla Cenere, charred leeks with vinaigrette and sheep’s curd. The crispy, smoky flavor of the leeks combined with the creamy tanginess of the sheep’s curd was a match made in heaven. I appreciated the earthiness of the leeks and how the sheep’s curd enhanced their flavor.
The next time I’m at Via Carota, I hope to try the Finnochio and the Insalata e Acciughe and continue to experience how Via Carota celebrates each vegetable.
Mains
On a friend's recommendation, I tried the Pappardelle, and I wasn’t disappointed. The homemade flat egg noodles captured the meaty wild boar ragu perfectly. The ragu was rich but not overpowering, and the pasta, freshly grated parm, and ragu made the perfect trio.
Sides
Whilst eating the olives at the start of the meal, I was so struck by how intensely flavorful the olive oil was that I ordered a side of bread and olive oil. The bread was a bit tough and lacked flavor, but I was happy to use it as a vessel to sop up the olive oil. It had the most vibrant yellow-green color, and its flavor was so punchy and bright. I’d happily drink just the olive oil any day.
Dessert
While I didn’t order an actual dessert off the menu, I did receive the sweet treat of pride. As we get older, there are fewer opportunities to push ourselves out of our comfort zones. Maybe it’s a combination of a developed frontal lobe and complacency, but it’s often so easy to get stuck in the same routine.
I’m proud of myself for doing something that made me uncomfortable. I was forced to literally sit with my thoughts and accept that I was alone at that moment. The best part: I was okay being alone.
In addition to my new confidence, I found that I could focus on the flavors of each dish and contemplate how those flavors made me feel and what surprised me about each dish. I could also appreciate the ambiance that Sodi, Williams, and their team created and felt that I was at a neighborhood restaurant in Tuscany. As I sat in my bar seat at the end of my meal, I made a vow to bring my notebook to my next solo dinner so I can write down some of my thoughts for later. Crazy, I was already making plans for my next solo date.
Digestif
Without knowing it, I’ve become somewhat of a fangirl for Chefs Rita Sodi and Jody Williams. Within the packed West Village, they’ve created a beautiful pocket of cozy, welcoming, and tasty restaurants, including The Commerce Inn, Buvette, I Sodi, and Bar Pisellino. Via Carota, inspired by Sodi’s childhood home, a 17th-century villa in Tuscany, honors Tuscan cooking with a simple, seasonal menu. The restaurant earned a James Beard award for Best Chefs in 2019 and has become a staple in the neighborhood.
This post is written a few weeks after my meal at Via Carota and I find myself still thinking about this particular meal. While a big part of that is because of the food, I know that it’s mainly because I forced myself into a new and scary situation that ended with a positive outcome. I’ve been trying to take the learnings from this night to find little ways that I can push myself to experience new things. It’s trite but true: life is about experiences (and I’ll add, especially the unique ones).