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
I love this piece. I’m recently divorced (and a really young divorcee at that), and I’ve spent a lot of time reframing literally everything (?). Very honestly the best part of my new “alone, not lonely” lifestyle is getting to eat/do/talk about things with only my pleasure in mind. I don’t have to worry about seeing the latest artsy film and my partner not enjoying it and then spending an hour and a half in the dark hoping that they won’t have thought it was a waste of time.
All of that said. My favorite thing to do, by myself, is to get a happy hour cocktail at the ramen place nearby my apartment after work on Fridays. I sit at the bar, where the bartender knows I am ok without being engaged with, with my kindle and just enjoy the drink and superfluous reading. It feels independent and bold and says to the world, “I am ok.” I mean, maybe that isn’t everyone’s idea of ok – alone at a bar – but for me it is. I also enjoy getting to order takeout from wherever I want and eating it in beautiful pottery :)
I love you all, never change! Thanks for this post!
When I was a graduate student, Sunday was the only free day I had. I loved going to my favorite brunch place and eating their delicious stuffed ricotta French toast. My companion was a book. It was lovely and calming. I still eat by myself when I want some quiet time.
I was 22 and had my very first business trip to Cincinnati where, at the time, they had a restaurant called the Maisonette which was the longest running 5 star restaurant in the country. I lived on yogurt all week just so I could afford one amazing dinner there, by myself. The wait staff was complicated and I had no idea how you were supposed to tip everyone. So, I asked where there was a phone (pre cell phones) in order to call my dad for help on the matter. To my utter embarrassment, they brought a phone to my table and, in my lowest volume whisper I made my call. In case you are wondering, just leave a 20% tip and the wait staff will divide it up appropriately.
Reading this while eating breakfast alone at my beloved neighborhood restaurant in Brooklyn. Eating alone is one of life’s simplest, yet grandest, pleasures. Cheers.
When I lived in New York, I would take a book and sit by myself at an institution of a bistro that somehow found itself in the middle of a rapidly growing trendy “scene-y” neighborhood. I would sit at the bar and order French fries, a Caesar salad, and a cup of coffee, and enjoy my solitude.
The best thing about this place was that no matter how busy it got, the servers never rushed me and would keep filling up my coffee cup, sometimes with a wink to let me know I was okay to keep reading and sipping. The bistro has been gone now for a couple years, but I have so many fond memories of the kindness of the staff, who always let me dawdle the afternoon away by myself.