Solo dining in Paris. To partake or not to partake? By all means, partake. The week before last was truly a week of “dining solo has its benefits”.  I am considering never eating with friends again.

On a Wednesday night, which is my Friday, I was reading the France Chowhound boards to see what the latest talk was.  As I read the questions and various reviews from travelers who were planning their vacations or who had just returned, it reminded me of the pressure I felt last year in having to narrow down a million restaurants I wanted to try and just picking a few, hoping they were the right choices.  And part of the reason I was so excited to move here was so I could go to these places whenever I wanted.


YET, because I have a budget to adhere to, it’s not like I go eat at these restaurants whenever I want, like I would on vacation.  I eat weird powder soups with cobwebs chunks in them.  I realized that here I was, in Paris, and I wasn’t exactly taking advantage of going to these dream restaurants. 


For example, there’s this amazing restaurant, Chez L’Ami Jean, just down the street that I still had not gone to yet, and last year, before moving here, I had planned that restaurant reservation 2 months in advance for my Paris trip. 


I thought, “What am I doing?? I’m here!! It’s just down the street!  I can go whenever I want, I’m not limited by a 4 day vacation…and yet I’m not going to these places.”  This was part of the reason I moved here, for crying out loud.  So, inspired by the Chowhound boards, I told myself I’d call in the morning (my day off) and make a reservation for lunch, even if I had to go by myself. 


And I did.  I made a reservation for 1pm, did a superb blow-dry on my hair and got dressed up in a cute red dress for my solo lunch excursion, because


(A.) Goodness knows I hardly look female the rest of the week while sweating in my t-shirt and tennis shoes at work. Sometimes I don’t even feel human.
(B.) If you’re going to dine solo, then looking swanky helps you feel less like a loser, and
(C.) If you look nice during your solo dining experience, perhaps you can gain the sympathy and/or favor of the waiter, and they’ll, I don’t know, crack a smile or bring you water without having to ask for it.  Baby steps w/ French waiters, baby steps. 


But this day, even better, the pity/favor would be coming from the chef.  


As soon as you walk into the restaurant, you can see into the kitchen through a big window in the back, which I love.

And THEN as I’m eating this delicious dreamy rice pudding with buttery salted caramel cream and crunchy toasted almond granola, the waitress comes by AGAIN with this huge tray of desserts and tells me it’s a “petite” tasting of desserts from the chef. 

(But who am I kidding, I felt 1% self conscious about my hilarious table full of desserts and 99% excited, delighted, full of joy and happiness, ready to eat every last bite, dance in my chair, ask for more).  


I was talking to that couple, like, don’t mind me, I’m just going to start digging into my dessert fest over here.  I would have gone for thirds on that rice pudding if I didn’t think they would judge me for it.  The guy had already commented on how he was impressed that I finished all the pigeon.  (Grow an appetite, it’s a pigeon, not a turkey.) 


So next time I’ll try to be less friendly so I can have 5 desserts and a giant bowl of rice pudding all by myself without judgment.