Eating Alone Can Be Fun

On a night when a full moon hung over Maastricht, a medieval Dutch city meant for strolling just such nights, I found myself, besotted with French chardonnay, running through the quiet streets. I wore a sport coat with my jeans, pleased that for once I did not look like an American tourist. I began to sweat inside my jacket, the remains of my dinner acting like aerobic weights wrapped around my ankles.

The reason for my sprint was that I had stayed too long at India House, where I had just had a very fine meal. I was having a nice chat with Salam, the owner, on a wide variety of topics ranging from our families to health care around to world and our plans for the future. I had fifteen minutes to get to the train station to catch my train back to Eygelshoven if I wanted to be reasonably close to the agreed upon time for relieving the babysitter who was giving me a welcome break from caring for my lovely grandson.


I set out for Maastricht with the intention of discovering a new restaurant, but memories of a splendid meal at India House last year with Carol and Ellen hovered in the shadows of my mind. Armed with a hand-drawn map given me by Ellen, I ambled past several interesting looking places, not one of which insisted that I enter and partake. So I decided to walk the extra blocks to India House, just to take a look. It was a perfect evening for walking the quiet streets.

India House is not an impressive-looking place. It does not bustle like the row of sidewalk cafés on the town square around the corner. At the door, it was time to decide; and I didn't hesitate. A minute later, I was seated and was being given suggestions by Salam. He explained what Tandoori cooking is (baking the food inside clay pots or a clay oven) and demanded, "What do you like? Chicken or lamb? " No nonsense here. Both, I told him, but I have chicken frequently. "Do you like spinach?" he inquired. I told him yes, and he flipped the menu to the last page and pointed to a dish called Saag Gosh. I told him I'd go with his suggestion. I wondered if the spicy food would overpower wine, and he assured me that the French chardonnay would go perfectly with my dish.


Soon I was taking my first sips of a half liter of chilled wine and eating the complementary light crusty bread, called poppadom, with three dips - mild, medium and hot - as in very very hot. My lamb came, along with my order of naan, an Indian bread that I mused might just be as good as a French baguette. There, I said it. It seems wrong to compare any bread to the breads of France, but you had to be there. You had to tear a piece of this soft, buttery bread and soak up the delicious sauce of the saag gosh with it to understand why I would say such a thing. For a while I just ate and allowed myself to be completely in the moment. I learned to do that on this solo trip. I had wondered before I left home what eating a good dinner alone would be like. Although sharing good meal is one of life's true pleasures, eating alone can be surprisingly satisfying. I chew longer, taste more, take in more of the surroundings. Not the preferred way to dine, perhaps, but not as unpleasant as one might think.

I also learned to read during my solo meals on this trip. I brought along "Best American Travel Writing," which has been perfect reading for a solo trip. Almost without exception, the essays are engaging both for the quality of the writing and for the human stories they tell. More than once I have found myself smiling, laughing and even grunting with pleasure at the good writing that leaps from the page. I did a lot of grunting this evening, alternately experiencing great pleasure from my reading and from my lamb and spinach dish resting in a sauce that required every piece of my nan to soak up.

I told Salam that my daughter had introduced me and Carol to his restaurant last year, and that I was delighted to return. I mentioned that Ellen and Ben have been here for three years and will soon return to the United States and that they had a one-year old baby who I was caring for while they visited Paris one last time. "I know them," he said with excitement in his voice. "They are from Minneapolis! Tell them I say hello!" Indeed I will.