THE FRIENDFREE DIET
Want to get skinny? Some NYers say the best way to stay slim is to ditch your pals and dine alone
W HEN Sarah Williams sits down to dine at a trendy restaurant, the 27-year-old real estate broker makes it clear to the maitre d’ it’s a table for one.
“It’s almost out of necessity to eat alone,” says Williams, who dines solo several times a week at faves such as Prime Grill, Avra and Hatsuhana because many of her friends don’t eat as healthily as she does.
“I don’t compromise what I put into my body for the sake of being social,” says Williams, who lives on the Lower East Side and prefers to eat macrobiotic, organic and kosher fare.
For some fit New Yorkers, the only way to eat out and stick to a strict diet is to go it alone, even if it means annoying their friends and sacrificing their social lives. Experts are split on whether the approach is a reasonable way to keep healthy habits or dangerously obsessive.
“They’re missing out on the joy. They’re missing out on social situations because they’re concerned that they’re not going to have the quality of food that they want,” says Kathy Siegel, a registered dietitian and
nutrition consultant based in New York, who adds that it could lead to disordered eating. “Food brings us pleasure, but the company makes it better. Connecting with people makes us happy — and there’s plenty of research to back that up.”
But that’s not stopping some experts from suggesting the practice.
“I often recommend that my clients take a break from social eating — eating with friends or colleagues. The main goal is to give them full authority over their food and meal choices,” says Manhattan-based dietitian Brooke Alpert of the company B Nutritious. “From the cuisine or restaurant to the timing or [number of ] courses, eating solo can help empower people to make the choices that work best for them versus the company they were [forced] to eat with.”
It’s that sense of control that gives solo diners the freedom to flee the dreaded group dinner.
Anthony Taccetta, a 40-year-old from Hell’s Kitchen, dines alone “all the time” to avoid the decadence that often comes with group dinners.
“You do good during the day — have a healthy breakfast and lunch — but come nighttime and meeting friends, all that effort is blown out of the water because you’re sharing,” says the unattached event planner. “You don’t want to not be part of the group. No one is ordering individually — the whole point of it is sharing. It winds up being a lot.”
When his friends call to make dinner plans, there are times Taccetta will decline. “I can be honest and tell them I’m watching what I’m eating. It’s a valid excuse to get out of dinner.”
Instead, he chooses cheery places for his table for one, such as French Roast on the Upper West Side. “They have healthy options there,” he says of the fish of the day, which he’ll usually order along with a salad. “And it’s a fun environment.”
Still, opting out can put a strain on friendships.
In February, when a group of pals were planning a big dinner, Taccetta got cold feet, worrying that his nutrition goals ahead of his 40th birthday party would be derailed. The group chortled at Taccetta’s abstention, and wound up meeting him later for coffee instead.
But his hard work paid off. Taccetta — who steers clear of pastas, potatoes and most carbs — lost 18 pounds over the past six weeks, ahead of his birthday party last week.
For restaurateurs, solo diners watching their weight can threaten their bottom line. Ed Schoenfeld, owner of popular restaurants RedFarm and Decoy, says he gets parties of one every day. He strives to be hospitable to them, just as he would be with a group of two or four, but he notes that customers on their own tend to drink less or not at all, compared to groups who will order an entire bottle of wine — often a key moneymaker for restaurants.
“We’re in the hospitality business — I don’t say no to anyone,” he says, “[but] it’s become harder to make a profit in our industry with such small margins.”
When Jessica Henriquez, a 31-year-old writer from Harlem, dines alone, she makes a point of not ordering wine. Since she started training for a triathlon last year, she’s given up meat and alcohol, and consumes sugar only from certain fruits. She admits her health habits can seem like a drag to dining companions.
“Come on — just one drink!” is a refrain she frequently hears, but Henriquez remains resolute: “I’m not going to break my streak for a measly glass of merlot.”
Instead, she chooses to fly solo at French spot Les Enfants de Bohème downtown and Indian restaurant ChaiWali uptown, both favorites.
“I have to admit dining out alone is a little awkward at first, but I bring a good book or a notepad and it’s much more enjoyable than having to explain the reasons for your food restric-
tions — or worse, having to watch your dinner date put away a bottle of merlot and a juicy steak while I crunch away on the healthier option,” says Henriquez.
And, she says her wholesome approach to eating can make dining companions feel awkward.
“Other people are uncomfortable when they see someone making healthier choices about their diet,” she says.
But the main reason she does it alone is for her own comfort. “Peer pressure is a real thing,” she says. “Watching friends order dessert and cocktails of course makes me want to do the same.”