This column orginally appeared as part of the Tribune Content Agency Humor Hotel package March 17, 2025.
When it comes to breakfast, I am the opposite of a solomangarephobic.
Bounce the word “solomangarephobia” off your therapist or that friend or family member who just likes to diagnose everybody. See if any of them know it’s the fear of dining alone in public. Better yet, find someone who suffers from this affliction and say you know the cure.
All it takes is a morning meal at any independently owned diner. Sorry, McDonald’s, Cracker Barrel, Denny’s and all you other chain establishments that open at 6 a.m., if not before. Sit this one out.
As a frequent business traveler, I know the angst that comes from saying “table for one” when it’s time to eat. Dining at the establishment’s bar can make things easier, particularly if other solo diners are occupying nearby stools. Then it appears normal, even cool, to be by yourself. Still, we all invariably pull out our phones and scroll as we eat, giving the impression we are “busy” as opposed to alone. Or worse, lonely.
But breakfast is different. Maybe because the meal typically includes coffee; and who doesn’t like starting their day sipping java in solitude — even the java that contains whip cream, is accompanied by a straw and costs $9.50 — as the world slowly awakens?
The Price of Eggs versus Happiness
Speaking of price, breakfast seems to be that one meal that doesn’t involve feelings of guilt when we scan the prices next to the chef’s specials. That’s not the case at dinner. How often have you had your eyes on a New York strip steak, only to order chicken or pasta after realizing the money you are about to spend on beef could go to other expenses? I mean, do you want to devour a Porterhouse sauteed in butter and pink in the middle, or do you want to fill your car with gas?
But give me an omelette containing ingredients I would have never thought to pair with eggs — sriracha mayonnaise comes to mind — and I’ll happily plunk down a few extra bucks. Heck, with the price of eggs going up while the stock market heads the opposite direction, I may as well indulge while I at least have SOME money left.
Oh, and healthy choices also seem to go by the wayside when it comes to eating breakfast out. At home my first meal of the day usually consists of a bunch of fruits and vegetables, pulverized in a blender with protein powder and slurped down before or after I hit the gym in my building.
But I’m the same guy who frequents Ann Sather — an 80-year-old Chicago diner famous for its gooey iced cinnamon rolls served not as the main course, but as a SIDE dish. Sometimes I don’t even request them; they just…appear. And then they disappear, courtesy of me.
Dining solo at Ann Sather one chilly March morning, I surveyed the other diners. About half were alone. Nobody was scrolling. Two read books. Three gazed out the window as buses carrying commuters rolled past.
Please Keep Your Breakfast Chatter to a Minimum
Quick tip: If you want to really experience the pleasure that comes with solo breakfast dining, do so on a weekday. Saturday and Sunday breakfasts usually involve wait times and then dining alongside church groups or young couples with toddlers in strollers. I have nothing against these people, but their chatter kills the solo breakfast vibe I had hoped to experience.
As I ate, workers scurried back and forth, clearing dishes and refilling coffee cups. The bottomless coffee cup is key when dining solo, as it allows one to extend the meal. Another reason not to eat at McDonald’s.
Meal completed, I ventured into the Chicago morning, ready for whatever the day held in store. Even if it held nothing, I was content, which is a nice feeling at 8:30 a.m.
If, after reading this column, you still suffer from solomangarephobia, please reach out. I will take you to one of my favorite morning diners, and we can discuss your issues over strawberry crepes and cheese blintzes.
I won’t be offended when, halfway through the meal, you ask me to leave. For doing so means you are cured.
