Dining at the bar in a gourmet restaurant represents one of life’s simple but great pleasures. At first, it was my frequent business travel schedule and a desire for something better than room service that drove me to eat solo on a stool. Being that lonely one-top with a book in the middle of the dining room didn’t appeal to me; I thought it too embarrassing. The bar became my refuge. 

Today, I will happily be that solo diner in the dining room if the establishment lacks a bar or – more likely – serves some sort of bar menu rather than the full slate of options available to other patrons. But I much prefer to saddle up to a long polished piece of wood or stone, likely alongside other traveling foodies, a few local gourmets, and people waiting for their tables. In this way, I pass the evening with delectable food and good conversation with the bartender and other customers. 

I have come to prefer dining at the bar even when I am with others and able to claim a table. My wife and I frequently enjoy the experience when we travel, though not with the same religion as I do alone. Some restaurants offer such a compelling atmosphere on the floor – usually related to the view out the windows – that the lure of a table overcomes that desire to relax at the bar. 

It’s About Relationships 

Eating at the bar is much more than a flight from loneliness at a table. As a foodie, there can be tremendous benefits to occupying that stool instead of a chair and tablecloth. Ultimately, it’s all about relationships. Most fine dining restaurants have just a few bartenders and very few seats at the rail, so establishing rapport in that first visit is much easier. And if you plan to visit that place more than once, you are much more likely to be remembered. 

I don’t think I fully realized the significance of restaurant relationships and the impact bar dining has on them until about three years ago. It was a brisk but not altogether cold November evening in Washington, DC when I asked the concierge at the hotel for a suggestion of a restaurant within walking distance that might offer a tasting menu. Normally, I found myself at a steakhouse of one kind or another, sitting at the bar, downing my food, and heading back to my room. But this night I walked out of the hotel armed with two recommendations. 

The restaurants suggested by the helpful concierge were located virtually side by side at the very end of Connecticut Avenue, just over a block from the White House. The Oval Room and Equinox. I had heard the names of both, but I was not at all familiar with either place. I peered through the window of first one, then the other to gauge the ambience and bar scene. I didn’t bother to look at the menus – Equinox doesn’t even post one in the window anyway – because I knew I eat virtually anything at least once. I can’t really tell you what made me pull the trigger for Equinox, but I recall walking in an pulling up a seat at the far right end of the bar. 

I don’t remember the precise details of that evening beyond that, but I recall enjoying the food and encountering a friendly bartender. Unlike at other bars where I had dined previously, the service was on par with what I would expect to receive at a table. The kitchen was timely, but not rushed, as they so often seem to be at solo dining tables. (In fact, I have learned that most kitchens prioritize tickets of solo diners with the thought that they are minimizing any potential embarrassment since they have no companion to share conversation with between courses.) 

The experience left me wanting more. So when I returned to the city the following week, I stopped in for another dinner. The bartender remembered me and my drink of choice. That was a signal to me that relationships really mattered. But that point was driven home more clearly about a half dozen visits in to my Equinox odyssey. That evening, at the suggestion of bartender Mounir Safaa, Chef Todd Gray visited my stool and suggested I put myself in the hands of the kitchen rather than ordering from the menu. I had heard of such behavior among real foodies, but I had never dared to ask for it myself. Now here I was with the chance to find out what that sort of adventure was all about. 

I was blown away. I faced a succession of probably six or seven dishes that were among the best I ever had anywhere. None of them could be found on the two sheets of paper that made up that evening’s menu. But all of them were of a caliber that would have made anyone in that dining room happy. I was completely hooked. I now visit Equinox almost every week when I am in DC. 

Is There Any Other Way to Eat? 

I now find myself building relationships at bars in other places where I travel. At the Brandy Library in New York’s TriBeCa neighborhood, I have come to know Ethan, the spirit sommelier, and most of the bartenders. In Naples, Florida I spent years dining at Roy’s in Bonita Springs where I got to know a woman named Chris who tended bar there. More recently, I got to know the folks at The Grill in the Ritz-Carlton Naples, including their excellent bartender named Steve. 

It begins with getting to know the bartender, but after a few visits I find that I often begin to get to know others in the front of the house, including servers, managers, food runners, and more. In most cases, those relationships beget introductions to kitchen staff. When you know people in the front and back of the house at a restaurant, your experience changes for the better. What may have been an excellent adventure can turn into an almost unreal pleasure.