Dining alone is supposed to be having a moment, though you wouldn’t know it from Franco’s terrace, where I appear to be the only person without a companion. Around me are convivial little groups of two and three, deep in conversation. I have no company and, as if that weren’t enough, I have also decided to spend the entire lunch without looking at my phone. No scrolling, no messages, not even a quick photograph of my food.
Despite writing about food and wine for a living, I rarely give my own meals the attention they deserve. The frenetic pace of freelance life in London means lunch is usually gobbled down over emails at home or eaten while distractedly chatting when out. The only pause comes when I whip out my phone to take a shot of a plate with the usual apologetic quip: “The phone eats first!” My phone is never far from my hand; my notifications are always on. And yet, surely good food and excellent restaurants deserve better than half our attention?
