“Eating alone is where you find the most generosity in travel,” says food writer and seasoned solo traveller Libby Travers (co-author with delicious. contributor Anthony Puharich of MEAT: The Ultimate Companion).

We’re discussing the ins and outs of solo travel, and specifically dining solo.

“I don’t think I’ve ever started a meal alone and finished it alone,” says Travers. “That doesn’t happen if you’re in a couple. People don’t talk to you in the same way as they do when you’re by yourself. I’ve had meals that have started alone, but then the two guys behind me have asked me to join them or checked in on me all the way through. In some situations people have paid for me without me knowing it or I’ve had the waiters who have looked after me and won’t let me pay because they’re anxious that I’m by myself, and anxious that I have a good time.”

I recall heading off, in my twenties, on my first solo trip. Friends asked how I’d cope alone. It was their fear not mine, but it stuck with me, and especially at mealtimes. I’d busy myself at the table, writing a travel diary or reading a guidebook; studying the menu intently, reading it again and again, conscious of being, in most places, the only lone diner. It was, and still is, something of a social taboo; the image of a loner, not always a positive one.

A recent trip to Adelaide – not far from home, but far enough – focused my mind on going solo and especially dining. As a critic and journalist, solo dining is too regular an occurrence to be a fear. But moving through Adelaide’s vibrant restaurant scene I realised that I don’t simply tolerate it as an occupational hazard; I have come to actually relish it.

With smartphones everyone has a distraction to hand, a way to busy themselves and feel less alone. But I think it’s time to put away the distractions, take in the experience and remember that being alone doesn’t have to be lonely.

It’s liberating to talk to others that are so enthusiastic about the pursuit of solo travel. “There’s something in the anonymity of it that makes it enjoyable,” says Travers. “When I’m not anonymous, like when I’m in my city and eating at restaurants that perhaps my friends have something to do with or someone I know can come in, that freedom to enjoy it disappears somewhat.” It’s a point we agree on, that a ‘solo anxiety’ can dent an experience when at home, but when away it’s the lifeblood of good experience.

At Orana in Adelaide, I had a revelation beyond the brilliance of Jock Zonfrillo and his pitch-perfect team. In years of dining solo, I’d never gone the distance on a degustation alone. It’s time. There’s no conversation to take me away from the meal, my full focus is on the experience. My mind jumps from the wine selection, to the music and the décor, chatting to the somms and the chefs, and observing the tables around me. A few courses ahead of them, I keenly watch for their reactions to a mind-bending cacio pepe or the “ohhhs” and “ahhhhs” as they take a first sip of ‘soup soup’, a crocodile broth with Australian botanicals.

The key is relaxing into it. “If I’m spending good money on a meal I feel a lot less stressed,” says Travers. “If I’m not worried, I can just disappear into an entirely selfish idea of what it is that I’m getting out of the food. There’s a greater connection, as a diner and also with the restaurant itself.”

There are, of course, essential skills to solo dining. I ask for what I want, whether that’s a prime window seat, half pours of wine or smaller serves of dishes designed to be shared. The English reserve in me says “you can’t do that, don’t make a fuss”, but at the same time, I know that a good restaurant wants your experience to be as comfortable as that of the groups around you.

A seat at the bar or counter is often my preference; and often finds you able

to score a seat in a fully booked restaurant, like Brat, one of London’s hottest newcomers. No booking, no problem. It’s easier to accommodate a solo diner; some restaurants will even hold a few seats back.

Returning to Paris, Travers has her favourites. “At Septime (no.35 in The World’s 50 Best Restaurants) they’ve got three spots at the bar, and you turn up at midday and you get in. It’s just first-in first-served, and it’s brilliant; the guy standing at the bar, chatting to you, the wine – they’re all open so you get to try a little bit of everything – and you don’t feel alone as you’re perched up where you can watch the whole restaurant. It’s perfect, the ultimate treat.”