When I was a senior in college, I wrote a fake newsletter over the course of a semester as an assignment for one of my classes. The details of the project elude me now, like what educational value we were supposed to derive from it, but I remember clearly the newsletter I ended up creating: Party of One, musings on spending time by oneself. (I regret never actually publishing it… it’s a good name.)
The topic felt apt for the season of life I was in. After a year at home with my family attending school virtually, I moved into a studio apartment on the edge of campus for my last year. I felt as if I had undergone a massive transformation during the thick of the pandemic, and like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis, I arrived back in LA unrecognizable in comparison to my former caterpillar self.
Though the campus was by and large the same, I found it difficult to slip back into former routines and friendships—the person I was a year prior had become a complete stranger. So instead, aided by the excuse of the newsletter, I spent more and more time alone, unwilling to sacrifice enjoying all the things there were to do in LA because I hadn’t quite figured out how to reintegrate myself into the social scene.
And spending time alone turned out to be quite healing. I don’t remember doing anything too unusual—mostly meals out and visits to various tourist attractions—and yet living alone and armed with my own car for the first time in my life, every solo activity felt like a statement on newfound freedom and self-acceptance. (My one regret: I had wanted to go to Disneyland alone as the finale to the whole experiment, but then backed out when I realized how much a single ticket cost.)
Years later, I’m grateful for the time I spent getting to know myself that year, because once I did know myself, and felt comfortable being with myself, I truly haven’t been lonely since.
When I was in LA, and in the early days of being in New York, one of my favorite solo activities was dining out. I’ve spent countless meals at bars in both cities, a book in one hand and a utensil in another; one of the best ways to spend a free evening, in my opinion. In the years since, however, I’ve fallen out of the habit. I moved in with my boyfriend and transitioned into a life where evening and weekend time feels precious, and every meal out an opportunity to catch up with a friend.
So as a result, I’ve fallen out of the habit of dining solo.
But I haven’t been feeling in my body lately, like half of myself is constantly trying to catch up to the other, and life moves fast and suddenly it’s August and I’m 26 and I thought I was supposed to have it all figured out by now. The cure, temporarily at the very least, turned out to be a meal out alone at Rolo’s, because a martini and a lasagna has healing properties that defy modern medicine.
A few Fridays ago, I walked into Rolo’s and (to my great surprise) was able to immediately claim the last seat at the bar. I’ve had many wonderful meals at Rolo’s previously. Their burger melts in your mouth in the most luxurious way, and their menu updates at a frequency that encourages repeat visits, but my favorite thing about Rolo’s is how the ambiance makes one feel absolutely at ease, like a meal at the home of your most culinarily talented friend.
Alone at the bar, making a conscious effort to not use my phone because I’m sure that’s one culprit of what’s been making me feel so terrible lately, I made my way through a three-course meal, feeling like a very classy lady indeed. And yes, I started with the martini spanish, a martini with the fun addition of sherry that gave the drink a subtle sweet nuttiness.
Something that I find is discussed much less about Rolo’s is that they make the most stunning seasonal salads, and the one I had this evening was no exception: slices of heirloom tomatoes delicately laid on top of puréed curry lentils, topped with basil and crispy shallots. The curry flavor was strong, but had the interesting overall effect of accentuating the tomatoes, rather than overshadowing. Though it wasn’t in my interest to finish it all—I probably should have been pacing myself—I did so anyway.
The two sheet lasagna verde bolognese is legendary for good reason, with the peaks and valleys of this blanket of a pasta delightful to navigate. During this portion of my meal, I had plenty of time to reflect on the nuances of each bite, and the charred parts added an important contrast to the meaty, cheesy ones.
And at this point, I was extremely full, but I didn’t get into food writing because of my self-restraint. I ended on a few bites of honey pistachio ice cream, which had big chunks of pistachio I could crunch through with each spoonful. The whole meal was so wonderfully indulgent, and by the end, I felt grounded again—the extra pounds of carb and dairy and whatever else probably helped.
The irony of my having built this newsletter around the importance of the company we keep during our meals and then espousing the importance of dining alone is not lost on me. But then again, if there’s one thing that’s guaranteed in life, it’s that we’ll always have ourselves for company.
Bite It!
Reservations for Rolo’s open 28 days in advance at 10am on Resy, but they do save tables and seats at the bar for walk-ins.