Book Review: Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant: Confessions of Cooking for One and Dining Alone

He chose a seat in the solarium for his meal, across the far side of the restaurant. By day, the table looked out over a garden and pool but at this hour the dark windows reflected back only flickering candles, glints of polished silver and and an otherwise empty dining room. I was his server and he was my diner.

We talked through the dinner specials—salmon, blackened catfish or ribeye—and I learned more about him: Hong Kong businessman, in town for a few days, staying at the hotel nearby. Watching him dine in solitude affected me profoundly; good food is meant to be shared!

That was a decade ago, yet every detail is perfectly clear. He was dining alone and my soul hurt for him.

It wasn’t until just a few years ago that I realized some people weren’t bothered using only their half of a duece. In fact, some people actually preferred dining alone. When ordering or cooking for one’s self, every choice can be selfish, whimsical, restorative. Food can be savored for how it tastes and how it nourishes the body and soul without the distractions of banal (or erudite) conversation. Some meals are too personal to be shared with another.

…sharing food with another human being is an intimate act that should not be taken lightly. There are few people alive with whom I care to pray, sleep, dance, sing or share my bread and wine. Of course the latter cannot be avoided if we are to exist socially, but it is endurable only because it need not be the only fashion of self-nourishment. — “A Is for Dining Alone,” M.F.K. Fisher

A is for Dining Alone is just one of the many articles included in a new complilation, Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant, a series of short essays and stories from an eclectic mix of food writers, cooks, novelists and playwrights. Their styles are as different as their occupations yet overall the writing is solid with few missed notes.

Contributer Steve Almond channels how I used to feel about solitary cooking in his essay. People eat alone when they have no one to keep their company. It is the last resort of the desperate and the famished.

“Eating alone depresses me. It makes me feel the terrible loneliness of the world, all those men on barstools, with their hungry eyes and eager stories, all those women languishing before the soaps. And it embarrasses me. It makes me feel like a failure: the needy guy who eats alone. — “Que Sera, Sarito: An (Almost) Foolproof Plan to Never Eat Alone Again,” Steve Almond

Mr. Almond’s essay paries with Ms. Fisher’s by proximity. Along with twenty-four other writers they expound upon the pleasures and tribulations of cooking, and dining, for one’s self. For some, it is the ultimate indulgence, while for others it is a cruel circumstance. Most fall somewhere in the middle, not actively seeking solitary dining yet still enjoying it when the opportunity arises. Each chapter is the size of a hearty pupu. Taken as a whole they form a surprisingly coherent meal from soup-to-nuts.

Like many of the authors, I have slowly come to terms with dining alone. Cooking is one of the primary ways I know to show aloha to family and friends. It is first and foremost a time of sharing and caring. When I eat by myself, it tends to be leftovers, recombined as artfully as I know how.

But I’ve also shifted. Now when I see a solitary diner savoring a fabulous meal, I’m happy for them. There are days when I do the same, those days when nothing sounds better than a nice meal out, enjoying the peace and quiet of my thoughts as I dine utterly and completely alone.

Disclosure: This book was sent to me by the publisher for review. I happened to like it despite that, but if you’re getting heebie jeebies about conflicts of interest, you may want to read my review policies.