Dining alone: This columnist savors it like a rich dessert

Years ago, I spent the last night of a Hawaiian vacation treating myself to a fancy-pants dinner at The Canoe House at the Mauna Lani resort. The beachfront restaurant was a 40-minute drive and a world away from the funky, $35-a-night hotel I'd been holed-up in — when I wasn't busy working on my tan, or "dining-out" on $4 plate-lunch.

I remember that dinner with great detail, from the spacious table in the center of the tropical-breeze-enhanced dining room, to the macadamia-encrusted lamb chops, to the waitress who treated me like royalty, although I was that horror-of-horrors: a woman dining alone.

The next day at the airport, I ran into a familiar-looking couple. "Excuse me," I said. "Weren't you at The Canoe House last night?" Not only had they been there, the woman replied, they'd noticed me as well, and spent much time speculating about why I might be eating alone. They even considered asking me to join them, she said. "But we kept watching you, and the more we watched, the more we realized you were perfectly happy by yourself." They were right.

One of my dirty little secrets is that I enjoy going to restaurants alone. To a restaurant-obsessed person like me, a meal out is the equivalent of front-row seats at the theater and better than a night at the local Cineplex — neither of which, as far as I'm concerned, necessitates companionship. Restaurants are a show, and I like to watch. I get to eat, too.

But I'm obviously in the minority. For many regular restaurant-goers, the thought of dining out alone is as distasteful as a bowl of bad mussels. My husband, for example, is far more likely to stop at a supermarket, raid the salad bar and eat in his hotel room when on a business trip than treat himself to dinner out. And when it comes to dining locally, "I'll eat a sandwich in my truck before I'll eat in a restaurant by myself," says the man who's escorted his wife to half the restaurants in town. Echoing the comments of others I've informally surveyed, he explains, "For me, dining out is a social event. Dining alone makes me uncomfortable."

Many of those who eschew the "table-for-one" route say they don't like drawing attention to themselves and feel (rightfully, if my Hawaiian dinner was any indication), that people are staring at them, even pitying them.

Frankly, I think it's a pity more people don't indulge themselves, as I'm wont to do, with a solo restaurant meal. And given the tenor of the slowing restaurant economy, I'll bet you a Coke that these days you'd get an open-arms welcome at any restaurant — even if you're a woman and the answer to "How many in your party?" is "Three: me, myself and I."

Those of you game for dining solo, self-conscious about dining alone and hesitant about "taking up" a table in a restaurant should know that all over town, counter-seating is a viable option — to say nothing of a whole lot of fun. And lest you think I'm steering you to a Woolworth-style grilled tuna sandwich, think again. Here are a few ideas to get you started.

If I could dine alone tonight, I'd head straight to chef Scott Carsberg's Lampreia (2400 First Ave., Seattle; 206-443-3301) and pray for a veal chop. Four-star status doesn't exempt this temple of gastronomic intrigue from offering you a seat at the small bar that doubles as a counter. Expect to be greeted by Carsberg's elegant wife and business partner, Hyun Joo Paek, and treated to food so simple yet divine you may not want to share the experience with anyone else.

With only five tables, cadging space at Matt's in the Market (94 Pike St., in the Corner Market Building, Seattle; 206-467-7909) is tough going. All the more reason to show up alone to snag the "last seat" at the nine-seat counter where chef Erik Cannella's small, Market-driven menu impresses at lunch or dinner. Need help with the wine list? Looking for comfy camaraderie? Owner Matt Janke is usually on hand providing both.

Who could feel lonesome at tiny Harvest Vine (2701 E. Madison St., Seattle; 206-320-9771), where Basque chef Joseph Jimenez de Jimenez's vast and varied tapas menu offers little plates with enormous flavors. Lucky patrons dine elbow-to-elbow at the busy copper-top bar and at a very few tables, often sharing tidbits and talk.

The throng seated around the sceneoramic tile-topped bar at Palace Kitchen (2030 Fifth Ave., Seattle; 206-448-2001) is almost as interesting to peruse as the menu, which changes daily and offers everything from retro "olive poppers" and goat-cheese fondue to apple wood-grilled rib-eye steak and rotisserie free-range chicken.

Eva, the charming little bistro near Green Lake (2227 N. 56th St., Seattle; 206-633-3538), just opened its adjoining wine bar, where co-owner James Hondros presides, pairing wines by the glass with artful bar noshes prepared by his wife, Amy McCray. Of course, you'd be remiss not treating yourself to a repast in the bistro's dining room, where chef McCray works magic with seasonal ingredients in her open kitchen, but I already told you how I feel about treating myself — and only myself — to the full-meal deal.

Nancy Leson can be reached at 206-464-8838 or nleson@seattletimes.com.