TheChampagneSommelier reflects on lone-diners, aka the one-top. (With a Scent of Melancholy and Self-Confidence)
Estimated reading time: 3 minutes
OK, let’s take it from the top.
What people think it means: An innocent term for a person.
What it really means: Restaurant jargon’s short-cut, almost brutal, term for the lone guest. Not “a guest,” not “a table for one,” but “a one-top.” A solitary, upright, slightly awkward marker in the digital landscape of the reservation system. A logistical anomaly that disrupts the square symmetry of a dining room designed for couples and groups.
For the staff, the one-top represents a dilemma
On the one hand, a potentially quick and straightforward affair. On the other, the often sad sight of a person either staring down at their phone as if it were a portal to a happier life (which it rarely is), or whose gaze flitted around the room with an air of desperate hope not to look too lonely. They are placed at that small, unloved table by the kitchen entrance or near the toilets, like a forgotten package waiting to be picked up.
But there is another kind of one-top
The glorified, self-confident stick. And this person is not to be trifled with. It is the connoisseur who has understood something that most socially dependent people will never understand: that the purest gastronomic experience is the solitary one.
This one-top comes with a book, or better yet, no book at all. He is there for one reason only: to eat and drink exceptionally well, without having to endure a partner’s tiresome explanations about his day at the office, or a friend’s pleading over the menu. This guest studies the wine list with focused seriousness. He actually listens to the waiter’s description of the dishes. He eats slowly, thoughtfully, analyzing every bite. This one-top is not a tragic figure; it is an elite gastronomic athlete at its absolute peak.
Eating alone in a fine dining establishment is the ultimate show of power
It is a declaration that your own company is more than enough, and that you value the experience of food and drink above the social theatrics that so often distract from it. It requires a confidence that borders on arrogance, which I naturally applaud.
And what does this glorified one-top order?
A half-bottle, of course. Ordering a half-bottle of a truly great champagne, like a Krug ‘Grande Cuvée‘ or a vintage Pol Roger, just for oneself, is not a sad act. It is a statement. It is saying to the world, “I am here for myself. I do not need your validation, your company, or your permission. I just need a perfectly cooked turbot and a glass of something exceptional.“
So the next time you see a one-top in a restaurant, look closely. Is it a lost soul, or is it the person in the room who is having the absolute best night of all of you?
