All By Myself
Breaking free for bucatini
By Kitty
As someone who believes that all we have is dinner, I rarely crave the opportunity to dine or drink alone. It doesn't ever occur to me to pour myself a glass of wine while I'm prepping my favorite turkey chili or watching my shows. I yearn for direct eye contact while the string of cheese from your fried mozzarella gets stuck to your chin. I feel exhilarated when you reach over, fork blazing, to demand the last Brussels sprout. Give me community or give me lame-ass Chipotle on the couch.
This past Tuesday was different, though. I had spent the previous two days on a business trip in Chicago, where I attended a conference that took place in the basement of a Hyatt hotel. The 48 hours of windowless meeting rooms, wet scrambled chafing dish eggs, and empty handshakes bled into what felt like one long day, completely draining my social battery. I found myself salivating at the thought of an ice-cold glass of rosé and a carbohydrate-heavy dinner—and I wanted to eat it alone at a bar.Â
After letting my co-workers know that I'd be riding solo for the evening, I searched for a pre-dinner activity downtown where I could participate as a party of one. I made an appointment at the Lip Lab where a sweet Gen Zer named Lena mixed me up the perfect nude pink lipstick and coordinating gloss. It was hot as shit in Chicago and I had unfortunately selected the wrong footwear. Alas I marched my glistening pout and flimsy flip-flops back across town via the riverwalk to seek out some eats. My original plan had been foiled when the trendy Italian restaurant I discovered on Google Maps was packed to the brim with off-duty hedge fund managers in crisp white shirts, and women who I guessed invested in semi-weekly blowouts.Â
I recalled a Rhode Island-based food reporter who had recently recounted a trip to Chicago to attend the James Beard Awards. I pulled up her most recent email newsletter to see where she had dined—The Purple Pig. The restaurant was conveniently located just a block from my hotel. I slinked past the smartly dressed couples in the lobby to ask the host if there was, by any chance, a seat for one at the bar. She motioned for me to follow her, and I snuck into the last available stool. When I sat down, sweat pooling down the small of my back, another lone diner beside me leaned over and said, "You've stumbled upon a real gem." Once the steam had dissipated from my glasses, I locked eyes with the bartender, Jaime, and ordered that rosé, a Caesar salad, and the Bucatini all’ Amatriciana.Â
The Caesar salad was one of the best I've ever had. When the plate arrived, it was presented in a way that said, "Have fun, I dare you." Whole leaves of romaine lettuce and long strips of candied maple bacon, were topped with large, crunchy croutons and a generous sprinkling of pecorino cheese. The dressing was creamy and tangy, just enough to complement the sweetness of the bacon. There was no looking demure while eating this salad; you really needed to put in the work chopping to enjoy.
The bucatini, on the other hand, was more manageable. Rather than long noodles that required a level of slurping, they were shorter hollow pieces that didn't quite classify as "macaroni." Prove yourself during course one, so you can sit back and indulge during course two. I happily put my head down and ate the noodles, swimming in their bright red pasta sauce laced with Italian sausage and bits of sauteed guanciale. The restaurant was dim enough for me to feel like I could eat like no one was watching.
After stealthily snapping a photo of my meal, I tucked my phone away and elected to dine without the glow of a blue light. I wondered if my bar neighbor was traveling for work, if the couples in the lobby were trying to impress first dates, and if there were any regular patrons that Jaime cringed at the thought of. I wondered if Lena would plan that trip to New York City she was telling me about. My evening at the bar had fulfilled my need to be in community without having to open my mouth—except to stuff it with pasta of course.Â
While I didn't technically "stumble" upon this perfect dining experience, I patted myself on the back for my ability to pivot. Full and satisfied, I walked back to my hotel extra slowly so that I could enjoy the glow of the city at dusk.
Name drops: The Purple Pig
A special thank you to this week’s illustrator HyunJung Yi1. See more of her work here.
HyunJung Yi is a visual artist whose work includes illustration and graphic design. She is from South Korea, lives and works in Los Angeles, California, and is a recent Illustration graduate from ArtCenter College of Design. She’s mostly in entertainment advertising and brings exciting visuals to her clients, including MTG, Marvel, Braindead, etc.