Solo dining isn’t sad. It’s sexy. There’s something undeniably freeing about sliding into a chair, ordering whatever you damn well please and not having to pretend to care about Kelsey’s recent juice cleanse.
It’s giving “I am unbothered, and I have excellent taste.” “I’m alone, but not lonely.” And my own company is pretty f**king great.
That is, if you’re posted up at the right kind of place. The kind where the hostess doesn’t skip a beat when you tell her “It’s just me” and engaging in a love affair with your food is not only welcome, but encouraged. No plate sharing here.
If you have what it takes to chase the table for one, you’re in good hands. Consider yourself cooler than 84% of the couples having dinner with their phones in between weather small talk.
Via Carota
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If there was ever a chance at getting a seat at Via Carota, it’s solo… at the bar. The ultimate power move is skipping the inhumane line around the block (OK, maybe instead of three hours it’s 30 minutes) and savoring the cacio e pepe that puts all other cacio e pepes to shame. And no, you don’t have to split it.
Thai Diner
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Honestly, if you’re not coming here alone… what are you doing. Infinitely easier to get in and infinitely more comfortable to enjoy your personal space in the fairly small booths, I’d argue Thai Diner is made for the solo diner. The booths are in close proximity to the bar seats so you never know what cute stranger might slide in across from you—if you play your cards right.
Cervo’s
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Conveniently centered in Dimes Square where people-watching is as plentiful as the natural orange wine you’re about to consume, Cervo’s is solo dining energy at its finest. Deep in thought and devouring your Manila clams cooked in vinho verde, you wonder what life would be like as a Lisbon-based travel writer who summers in Mallorca.
Gramercy Tavern
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If you dine solo at Gramercy Tavern (specifically the front bar room, a.ka. General Admission), you’re literally cooler than us all. There might be a sea of finance bros in Patagonia vests blurring your vision, but you’re not there to socialize. You’re laser-focused on the juicy burger and martini you’re about to gorge, topped off with the iconic chocolate chip cookie and glass of milk for dessert.
Leuca
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Leuca already gets solo dining points for being in the lobby of The William Vale, a Williamsburg hotel that pulls its fair share of scenesters who dabble in Brooklyn Mirage and a side of banking. While Leuca sounds dangerously close to a little Italian restaurant we know as Lillia nearby, it deserves attention in its own right. The spacious outdoor patio is the perfect pit stop for a wood-fired pizza and Negroni post-rooftop party that had you counting down the minutes until it was acceptable to leave.
Kono
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Yakitori omakase (you read that right—chicken omakase) is meant to be enjoyed solo, as is arguably any omakase. But especially when the city’s most celebrated yakitori chef, Chef Kono, is performing culinary theater with a little bit of smoke, fire and passion. Sometimes you just want to relish your Amish chicken skewer in peace.
Lucien
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A scene and a half, Lucien is where you go to star in the Parisian screenplay you drafted in your head that one day you were bored and hopeless. Emily Ratajkowksi’s questionable ex might be smoking a cig as he waits for the window table and the guy next to you might be a retired drummer, but that’s what makes Lucien so great. Savor your steak frites and an extra dirty *filthy* martini, pretend you speak French and scribble into a journal, whether it’s a prop or real.
Frenchette
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A walk-in to Frenchette is bold, but something tells me you can handle it. The menu gives rich in the same vein as the clientele, and the service gives “you’re a regular even though this is your first time.” Test your adventurous side with the duck frites and enjoy the blissful feeling of being the narrator of your own night, free to eavesdrop on everyone else’s conversation because you can.
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