When the French philosopher Jean Baudrillard made his first visit to New York, he was shocked by a sight that seemed to epitomize all that was wrong with this capital of the postmodern world – “a certain solitude like no other,” the spectre of adults eating meals all by themselves.
“It is the saddest sight in the world,” he remarked. “Sadder than destitution, sadder than the beggar is the man who eats alone in public.
“Nothing more contradicts the laws of man or beast, for animals always do each other the honour of sharing or disputing each other's food. He who eats alone is dead.”
This should give you a feel for how you'll be received when you walk into certain Paris eateries and request une table pour une. You won't get scorned or turned away, but you'll be given the sense – often for the entire evening – that there is something not quite right about you. The French, as the old cliché suggests, approach the dining experience as something akin to the act of lovemaking. So imagine how they feel when you set out to do it in front of them without a partner.
As a defiant solo diner, however, I refuse to let the vicissitudes of Paris dissuade me from enjoying a three-course dinner with only a paperback book as a companion. Nor should you.
Perhaps (like me) you are a business traveller who won't settle for mere room service in the city that gave us the restaurant. Or maybe (also like me) you're a pleasure-seeking misanthrope who would rather have an intimate relationship with your food, your waiter, your sommelier and the comforts of your own mind – free from the tyranny of company.
Either way, you should have strategies for finding that perfect one-person table on the banks of the Seine.
Lunch is no problem: Plenty of Parisians take their midday meal alone, these days even with a laptop computer (better brasseries and cafés now offer Wi-Fi).
But we're talking about proper dining here – a 9 p.m. repast cooked by artists at the top of their game in a memorable location and served by professional, deeply engaged staff. A big dinner can be a wonderful thing shared with a warm circle of friends; it can be even better by yourself.
And there the hazards begin: At brasseries, even the best ones, it's customary to stick solo diners in the middle of a long row of narrow tables, jammed elbow-to-elbow between couples enjoying gustatory intercourse. Or at proper restaurants they'll put you at a ridiculous corridor table facing a blank wall, lest your solitude dim the consumptive passions of the house.
It shouldn't be this way. After all, the Michelin star-rating system was designed for individual male business travellers, who in the last century were the main occupants of restaurants, even the better ones. When Escoffier transformed cooking into a grand scientific journey, it was with lone passengers in mind.
But something has happened to dining – something having to do with tourism and television and modern relationships – and the happy dialogue between diner and dish has turned into a busy ensemble piece.
So let me offer a few ways to bring back the lonely magic.
A TABLE FOR 80
Among people who dine alone regularly in Paris, there is something of a cult of the communal table – an institution that began in the 19th century as a way to provide decent food to the working classes and survives today as one of those charming underground secrets that keeps the city exciting.
The most authentic and lighthearted of these places, and the one with the most devoted following, is Chartier in Montmartre. Its huge, ornate dining hall takes no reservations; you show up and they put you at a simple table with other strangers, as they've been doing for 120 years.
