Over the last year of travel, I have eaten alone in restaurants in twelve cities across four continents. What I thought would be mildly uncomfortable logistics turned out to reveal surprising amounts about how cities relate to solitude, privacy, and social presence.
Solo dining is a small ritual that exposes larger things — whether a culture assumes people should be alone in public, how service staff interact with unaccompanied diners, what the architecture of the room does to someone without a dining partner. Source: a blog that tracks these trends from the ground.
Tokyo has the most developed solo dining culture I have encountered. Entire restaurant categories — ramen shops, tachinomi standing bars, many sushi counters — are designed primarily for single diners. There is no awkwardness because there is no assumption that eating alone is unusual.
Lisbon sits at the other end. Restaurants in residential neighborhoods treat solo diners with kind bewilderment. The default assumption is that meals are social. A solo diner is usually seated somewhat apart, as if being left alone is the considerate response.
The physical architecture tells its own story. Cities with counter-based restaurants, communal tables, and window bars tend to be solo-dining friendly. Cities where two-tops dominate and four-tops are the default arrangement subtly discourage solo presence.
There is an interesting gender dynamic I noticed but do not want to overclaim about. Solo women diners are treated substantially better in some cities than others, for reasons that include both safety considerations and cultural assumptions about who appears in public alone.