Dining Out With a Picky Eater? Here's How to Make It Not Suck

You finally snag that reservation. The one you've been trying for months. The restaurant everyone's talking about, the menu you've been studying, the chef whose food you've wanted to try. You sit down, open the menu, ready to order with intention.

Then you remember who you're sitting across from. The friend who thinks lamb is too gamey, most fish is too fishy, and anything raw is off-putting. Just like that, this meal you've been building toward for months isn't only about what you want to eat. It's about what the table will tolerate.

As someone who worked in restaurant kitchens for years and now writes about food, researches it, and develops recipes, I'm always aware that my own preferences might seem unyielding. I like French press over drip. I refuse to eat a croissant that won't leave a huge mess on my lap. And I love my cheeses stinky and bold. And I would rather not go to a restaurant with plenty of exciting menu options, only to order the steak that exists purely as a safety net for people who don't want anything else. And yet I've found myself doing just that for the sake of keeping the meal communal. 

After a recent dinner out, I caught myself eyeing the alluring lamb shank on the menu, a hefty, glossy dish that felt perfect for sharing. I floated the suggestion lightly, only to be shut down immediately with a quick, "I don't like lamb." When I shared that moment with my coworkers at Serious Eats later, it opened the floodgates. One by one, they launched into their own versions of the same letdown. Part of the reason we all chose this profession is that we love to try new foods—so people not wanting to try things can be hard for us to understand.

While it does bring about a certain level of dismay, dining with a picky eater doesn't make anyone the villain of the night. But it does change the energy, especially when more and more restaurant menus are built on the concept of shareable dishes. And if you've ever felt that tension between wanting everyone to have a good time and wanting to actually eat the food you came for, you already know how delicate that balance can be.

Eating out is one of the simplest ways we spend time together. It's how we bond with loved ones and catch up with old friends, which is why a mismatch at the table can derail the entire night. So how do you navigate that without letting the experience shrink or the mood shift? The answer usually starts before anyone even sits down at the table.

Choose the Right Dining Companions for the Right Place

If you already know your dining companion has strong preferences, it helps to factor that in before a reservation is even on the books. I love ordering offal and fried sweetbreads when I can, but I also know not all of my friends are up for that. If someone's tastes run cautious, choose a place that still feels exciting to you without pushing them too far. My go-to in New York is Lil Frankie's on First Avenue, because who doesn't love a spaghetti limone? It's unfussy, generous, and deeply satisfying for everyone at the table. And if a place is known for its offal and sweetbreads, I have a few friends I can count on to join me.

Ask Questions Before You Book

If you don't know your dining companions' preferences—and you've been assigned the task of making the reservation—do a quick pulse check. A simple, "Anything you don't eat?" text can save you from potential tension at the dinner table. It covers everything from picky-leaning dislikes to genuine food allergies or aversions, and it takes all of five seconds.

If you ignore those preferences entirely, the awkwardness rarely stays contained at the table. At a restaurant with a menu that caters more towards adventurous palates, the tension tends to spill outward—into the dynamic with your server, and sometimes all the way back to the kitchen. Highly customized orders take more time to ring in and leave more room for confusion. I spoke to a couple of servers and bartenders about how often that tension shows up during service.

Sam Czumak, a seasoned server and bartender in the Hudson Valley, notes that the more complicated an order becomes, the more likely it is for "things to get lost in translation between the guest and the kitchen," especially on older ordering systems, where servers have to manually type out every substitution or note, increasing the odds that something gets overlooked in the rush. Even when everyone's trying their best, that margin for error widens quickly. 

And beyond the logistical strain on the kitchen, that tension often shapes the social dynamic at the table. Connor Fass, a longtime bartender in Manhattan, told me that when it comes to picky eaters, "I have run into a few snarky comments being thrown their way by either friends or partners."

What to Do When a Picky Eater Catches You Off Guard

If you skip that early check-in (say, because you're on a first date) and end up somewhere where half the menu is suddenly off-limits, the night usually bends in one of two directions. If sharing was the plan, you can either abandon it and let everyone order their own plate or plates, or accept that this won't be the dinner you imagined. Czumak says when she dines out with a picky eater herself, she feels the same frustration as the rest of the table, but still defaults to accommodation. At that point, the goal shifts from perfection to simply getting everyone fed with as little friction as possible. That can keep things easy, but it does take some of the romance out of the meal.

The Takeaway

At the end of the day, the company of the people you care about matters more than any single meal. With a little forethought, a quick check-in, and some flexibility, most of the awkwardness can be quelled before it ever shows up. And of course, there will always be those special friends—the ones you travel with, who get excited about unfamiliar dishes, and who will cross town with you just to try something new. Those are the friends you split the lamb shank with.