Scallops, party of one.

A few weeks ago, I had a pretty bizarre experience in New Orleans.  I’ve been to New Orleans a handful of times, and I’m aware that weird things are happening all over that wonderful town, but this thing that happened to me was, well, different.  I was visiting for a conference, and as any food-obsessed traveler does, I sought out a special restaurant to have dinner my final night in town.  Peche had been on my to-try list since it hit Bon Appetit’s list of top-50 best new restaurants in 2013.  I waited five whole years to try this restaurant, so I didn’t let a mile walk in uncomfortable shoes or a 90 minute wait deter me.  To hedge my bets, I put my name on the waitlist but immediately began stalking the bar, lingering behind lingering patrons, hoping they’d take pity on my presence and wrap things up.  I noticed a woman signing her check, but to my dismay, a fellow solo diner had already swooped in for the seat.  I retreated to the other side of the bar, only to have this same solo fellow approach me moments later.  He slyly nodded over his shoulder and pointed out that the seat next to his would be open momentarily.  I didn’t hesitate.

Seat secured, I began to doubt this decision.  I silently hoped this single stranger who had helped me snag a seat at the bar wouldn’t talk to me, and that we could just enjoy what would surely be a great meal in total silence.  Despite this apprehension, I asked if he’d been to the restaurant before (he had) and if he had any recommendations (he did).  As I pined over the menu, he placed his order and offered to share both of his appetizers with me.  WHAT LUCK.  Apparently that’s the secret to getting a solo traveler to warm up to you.  He could talk to me all he wanted now.

As we enjoyed smoked tuna, fry bread, and some of the best Brussels I’ve ever had (THE VINEGAR SAUCE!), I learned he lived in New Orleans and was treating himself to a nice night on the town, as if he was on vacation in his very own city.  What an idea.  It’s the sort of thing you read about in chick lit, but that no one ever actually takes the time to do in real life.

After spending over an hour chatting with this stranger, I asked for my check, and waited for the awkward moment when he’d ask for my number  and I’d respond with “thanks for the appetizers, buddy” then flee.  Instead, as I stood, he said it was great to meet me and he wished me a wonderful night.  And that was it.  How bizarre!  How wonderful.

Looking back, some of my best meals have been ones experienced sitting alone at the bar in some foreign town.  I will never forget my very first solo trip (to Chicago in 2010), or my first cross-country solo adventure (to Seattle in 2011), and the first meal I had there (at the Pink Door).  It was exhilarating.  Recently, I had an incredible meal, alone, at a bar in Austin (Swifts Attic!).  I find myself wondering why the heck I don’t do this sort of thing in my home city.  When I first moved to Charlotte several years ago, I would take myself to lunch every Saturday, simply as an excuse to knock places off my to-try list.  But, I think there’s something different, something special, and arguably more intimidating, about taking yourself to dinner.

Reflecting back on this recent experience in New Orleans, I felt motivated to venture out in Columbus for dinner alone at Veritas.  It was early, and when the bartender assumed I was in from out of town on business, I didn’t correct him.  I took my sweet time pining over the menu, ordering each course independently, and savoring each and every morsel.  I started with a nice glass of cabernet and the mushroom and ricotta toast, which was garnished with a beautiful field of micro greens and edible flowers.  Then I moved on to two roasted oysters swimming in spicy gojuchang, and finished with scallops and kimchi dotted with citrus and gojuchang sauces.  And then I went home.  Well, truth be told, I stopped at Pattycake for a couple cookies, and THEN I went home, feeling happy and stuffed and adventurous, right here in Columbus.