There’s a lot of conversation buzzing around Disconnection in the Digital Age. Screens as walls between ourselves and those around us. Our cultural inability to form intimate, reciprocal human relationships. You know what I’m talking about. The antidote that most offer is—more connection! Dinner parties! Breaking bread with friends and strangers!
East Fork loves an over-the-top meal and an overflowing table. But today we want to extend an invitation to pull up a seat at a table set for one.
A cupcake in the bathtub. Delivery pizza on the couch. A warm meal at the bar of a neighborhood standby with a crossword for company. A Sunday spent alone at the grocery store, taking your time in every aisle, with a whole afternoon to prepare and enjoy—with no pressure to please anyone but yourself—a three-course meal inspired by a childhood vacation.
Our culture's growing obsession with health and wellness is so often body and class shaming dressed up in a gown of moral righteousness. It can all be so hard to navigate. Eating alone is a great time to work on unlearning the harmful stories that our classist, image-obsessed, society has been whispering in our ears and jamming down our throats all our lives. It's a great time to practice saying things like:
"I'm eating this cake alone because it tastes so damn delicious and I just wanna savor it" instead of "I'm eating this cake alone because I'm bad and can't help myself."
or
"I'm eating this big, raw salad alone because it's delicious and nourishing for my body" instead of "I'm eating this salad on my Instagram feed so that people will know that I'm good and disciplined and virtuous."
An image of someone eating alone can shout: Shame! Depression! Isolation! But flip the narrative and eating alone can provide us with the opportunity for a connection with our own, personal, corporal humanity in a way that eating in the company of others can't.
I'm on my phone all day every single day for work and, of course, I can feel how it disconnects me from those around me. But more than anything, it's disconnected me from myself. It's stripped away my comfortable, easy relationship with solitude I've spent a lifetime developing. Eating alone used to be my church—truly, the time I felt most connected to the whole damn universe. I still enjoy it, but lately when I'm eating alone—whether in a restaurant while travelling for work or at home, before the kids wake up—I find myself aimlessly scrolling through Instagram, hardly aware of the food in front me and my own experience of it. Anyone else feel that? And since I've developed this habit and stopped paying attention to my senses while I eat, I've noticed that this negative self-talk I thought I'd gotten rid of for good back in my early 20s has started to weasel its way back into my sub-conscious. I'm ready to reconnect.
In the comment section below, tell us about a time when you enjoyed a meal or a snack in your own company. A time when you were really, truly present with your own taste buds, desire, pleasure, humanity.
“When I was writing my thesis in college, I would go get sushi by myself at the end of a long week. I'd blast my sinuses with Wasabi to clear some stress. All the sushi chefs and staff knew me and when they found out I studied Japanese, they started giving me a couple free pieces of fish every time I went in.” - Julia True
"My favorite thing to eat when I'm all alone is oxtail. I can make it, but it's way better when my grandma or mom does. I like to share food, but not when I'm eating oxtail. That's all mine." - JaQuan LaPierre
“Seriously, while it is more fun sharing a meal with the one you love, New Haven style Pizza can be great with a group or all by yourself!” - Scott Haight
“I once trekked across London to eat banana pancakes at a specific breakfast spot. I was the only person in the restaurant eating alone, but I didn’t mind: what better way to enjoy your own company than with a delicious meal?” - Virginia Knight
“In the late afternoon half way through my trip [to Paris] I ordered a Croque Monsuier (white sauce cheese and ham--a glorified fried bologna sandwich) wrapped to go after a long night and perhaps a few too many Kronenbourgs. Plucking it out of my tote (still warm!) on the steps outside of le Petit Palais was a fabulous reminder to take comfort in solitude.” - Sara Melosh
“There’s nothing better than eating a big bowl of cereal in absolute peace and quiet or when watching YouTube. It's perfect quick snack fix, second only to PB&J.” — Jerome Williams
30 comments
For three New Years in a row I had to be in New Orleans (bummer!) but I didn’t have any family around. I inadvertently started a New Years Eve tradition of getting too many sushi rolls and a big ol daiquiri and watching Breaking Bad all night with my pup. Since then my New Years have been more eventful and my little guy has passed, but those were still the best solo meals.
I spent a week visiting a friend in Seattle last year. On the weekdays, she had to go to work so I spent my days wandering around the city alone (a beautiful place to do that). I’ve eaten a lot of meals alone in my life (and have enjoyed most of them) but none has been quite as lovely as the late lunch I had at a French restaurant adjacent to Pike Place. I sat at a table on the sidewalk, ordered a latte, quiche, and brioche buns. The food was delicious and rich, the service was pleasant and knew exactly how frequently to visit, and the breeze blew gently, creating an incredible dapple of light on my table from the trees above. I watched people stroll up and down the relatively quite street while I made my way through the spinach and goat cheese quiche, so decadent I never thought I would finish but never wanted to stop eating.
I felt that beautiful, magical feeling of being both alone and a part of a whole all at once.
I plan an annual solo trip each year. I decided to visit Seattle and one of the best things/meals I’ve ever had was at an Italian restaurant called Spinasse. The signature tajarin pasta with butter and sage was a life-altering dish. I sat at the bar next to an older woman who ordered the same dish and she insisted the bartender serve us a glass of white wine that paired perfectly with the dish. We sat there and shared stories and laughed for hours. There was something about the wine, cheese, pasta, and sisterhood we shared that night that I will never forget. Not to mention, when she discovered I was visiting from NYC by myself and that it was the eve of my 26th birthday, she offered to cover my meal and paid for us both. Certainly a birthday eve I haven’t forgotten and I dish I still drool about to this very day.
I travel a lot for my side hustle job. All over the US and occasionally to a few other countries. I get the pleasure of eating alone while I’m traveling. To be in a new place, trying new restaurants, seeing new sights always refreshes and stirs my passion anew.
I remember once in Chicago, finding an out of the way, hole in the wall Italian place. I went in and was seated at the white linen table and began to peruse the menu. The waiter came to take my drink order and I ordered a very nice glass of wine, which obviously surprised him (I don’t necessarily fit most people’s picture of a wine connoisseur). I enjoyed sitting at my table, sipping a delicious glass of wine, watching them prepare my food, as well as watching all the people hurrying by the windows outside. It was a nice pause in a busy day, and I was obligated to no one to come up with conversation points or engage in any way. I needed to disconnect and refresh, and eating alone provided me that opportunity.
When I was in college in Maine, at least twice a year I would take a greyhound bus trip to NC and back to visit my family. These were 24 hour+ trips, and there was always a middle of the night layover at the Port Authority. At the time, there was a twenty-four-hour pizza-by-the-slice place across the street, and I came to truly, intensely look forward to and enjoy that 3 am solitary meal of a slice and a snapple.