Two Years In Baltimore

LTH has given me so much over the past couple of years, and I now find myself in a situation that I think will allow me to give something back. My doctorwife’s continuing education has just recently brought us to Baltimore, where we’ll be spending the next two years. I figured I’d start up a thread and document my two years worth of Baltimore eating, in the hopes that by the time we return in 2009, this will be a nice little resource for any LTHers on their way to Charm City.

So, allow me to start off with one of my earliest excursions, in search of the comforting tastes of home:

Tortilleria Sinaloa

I daresay Baltimore is starting to feel like a home. Not HOME home, per se, but a comfy place where we know people and places and have begun to develop some routines.

One routine to which I've returned is dragging the little fellow around the city for lunches. Online information about Baltimore restaurants is scarce (from sources I trust, anyway), which leads me to one of two conclusions. Either Baltimore's dining scene is somewhat subpar, or people aren't digging. I have to believe the latter, so it looks like the next two years are going to involve a lot of random crapshoot meals.

Of course, we're in a great neighborhood for writing about random crapshoot meals. I'm not, however, talking about Little Italy. While we are, indeed, surrounded on all sides by Baltimore's paesani, I'm declaring a total moratorium on our immediate 'hood. Let's just say that the folks who run the local food establishments are all my neighbors and writing anything about their food -- negative OR positive -- kinda seems like a recipe for disaster. The only question in my mind is whether I wait until two days after we skip town and then drop the bomb Little Italy, however, borders on an impressive little pocket of small Mexican joints, which should take me at least a couple of months to survey. One that caught my eye right away was Tortilleria Sinaloa. I've been spoiled by Chicago's ample supply of wonderful, fresh tortillas and was thrilled to discover that a large local source is right around the corner. So I popped in for a couple of lunches last week.



It's a tiny little joint, with a massive tortilla machine in plain view just over the front counter. I haven't visited in the morning while this beast was running, but I can't imagine it's quiet. When the tortillas for the day have been produced, however, Sinaloa is a cute little place to drop in for lunch or an early dinner. There's enough seating for eight along the front window and one wall, provided those eight don't mind getting a little cozy. It's a counter service establishment, but the cheery folks who run the place will urge you to have a seat so they can bring out your meal along with a couple of salsas and lime wedges. The salsas are very no-nonsense, a red and green, both very potent, almost porridge-like in consistency and much less tart than I'm accustomed to. It's a minimal markerboard menu, featuring five or six taco selections that vary by the day, as well as a few soups and other random dishes. A small cooler by the register holds the typical taqueria libations -- Senorial, Jarritos, Mexican Coke.




Over my two visits, I sampled three of the available tacos, the res, pollo and carnitas. The tortillas were, as one might expect, really wonderful -- fresh, moist, light and still warm from that morning. The meats were all nicely, if minimally, seasoned and topped with the typical onion and cilantro. They came accompanied by a small cup of guacamole, but I preferred to leave them as-is.



Though I dug the tortillas, I was a little less enthused by the tacos, but don't take that to mean that I thought ill of them. The fillings were tender and moist and delicious all, but missing something. From what I can tell glancing over the counter, the precooked fillings are chopped and added to the warm tortillas without any further prep. I don't mean to suggest that holding taco fillings isn't perfectly kosher, but Sinaloa doesn't appear to do anything to refresh them. Perhaps I'm becoming a little too accustomed to late-night greasy taquerias, but I'd enjoy the tacos a lot more if both tortillas and fillings were kissed by the griddle before serving. That, and the carnitas seemed almost lean, at least as much as carnitas can, compared to some of the others I've sampled. I don't see this as a positive thing, but that's probably a matter of personal preference.



I didn't sample the soups (though I've heard their pozole is quite good) and the tamales that I've read they sometimes sell were nowhere to be found. Ceviche, however, was on the menu as a special. It's a seafood town and I love ceviche, so this seemed like a good direction to go. Sadly, the ceviche left an awful lot to be desired. I identified octopus and shrimp, though there were other seafoody bits of indeterminate origin, along with the requisite onion, tomato and cilantro. But it was mostly just watery and underseasoned. I found myself throwing in whatever I had on hand, which included some of the red salsa, a healthy squeeze of lime, the guacamole I left off the tacos and a dash of salt. Much improved, but still underwhelming. The ceviche did, however, give me a chance to sample Sinaloa's chips, which are really wonderful. They're thick and strong, but still very light, crisp and layered, almost like a fine pastry. Excellent, excellent chips. And even better, you don't have to order the ceviche to get them, as they're sold by the bag.



I can only assume that Sinaloa supplies some of the other local taquerias, so hopefully I won't have to venture far to find a place that marries these beauties with some more exciting fillings. When you get down to it, while it's a cute little place with some decent tacos, Sinaloa is all about the namesake tortillas. Wrapped in paper, warm and steaming, they're a beautiful thing. You can't buy less than the huge stack pictured here, but at $1.70 per kilo, you could wipe your counters with the leftovers and they'd still probably be cheaper than paper towels.

Tortilleria Sinaloa
1716 Eastern Ave.
Baltimore, MD 21231
410-276-3741

Great post. And certainly a surprise to those of us who simply expect seafood in Maryland.

If you ever want to have a nice little weekend away, let me know -- I have cousins with a B&B on the water in Annapolis.

Cynthia wrote:Great post. And certainly a surprise to those of us who simply expect seafood in Maryland.

I lived for 4.5 years in Maryland without having eaten a blue crab once. Our local grocery store did have these marvelous fishcakes, which were part of our Friday no-meat rotation. Otherwise it was a life of hamburgers, chicken, ham and other mundane things.

When I came back to D.C. to go to college, I was flabbergasted by the trucks parked on roadways selling crabs and oysters. I talked to my parents inquiring why we didn't eat all that good stuff. It all boiled down to my parents did care much for blue crabs (too much work) or oysters.

As a visitor now, I do get fish and seafood into my dining arrangements. Growing up I was largely unaware of the seafood bounty around me. Ditto for all my school friends, I didn't know anyone chasing crabs or eating a heavy seafood diet. Either my blinders were on or it just wasn't very much present.

Regards,

I've worked out a deal whenever I get invited to a college/university in MD. As part of my honorarium, they have to pledge to take me one night to a local crab shack. Since philosophy depts inevitably have a couple of respectable eaters, they'll know someplace good to take me. It's worked out pretty well. Slurp. :^)

One thing someone could do for us: there are lots of fish shacks in D.C., or at least one reads about them. Many apparently are strung out along the Potomac. It would be a real service if someone could give us a report on fish shacking in Our Nation's Capital. Dmnkly--any chance you might make it that far afield in the next year or so??

Geo

Attman's Delicatessen



The view from the back of the line... after the lunch rush.

I believe I've found the first place in Baltimore that I'll dearly miss when we skip town in two years. Not to take anything away from Manny's, but it's nice to be able to enjoy one of Chicago's few weaknesses for a while. I've been hitting this place pretty heavily, to the tune of 2-3 lunches per week.

Attman's Delicatessen has been around for nearly a century, now on its third generation of ownership, and when you stick around that long it generally means you're doing something right. Not that bodies per square meter should be mistaken for an indication of quality, but the place is a zoo. I've spread my visits across days, evenings and weekends, and have never had fewer than seven people in front of me in line. In typical Baltimore fashion, it's a painfully narrow space, with the refrigerator case and a phalanx of deli slicers separating the patrons, who can barely stand two abreast, from the dozen or so employees, who shouldn't be able to stand two abreast but somehow manage to scuttle past one another, usually bearing large hunks of meat overhead.



Attman's serves up all manner of deli standards, though the corned beef and pastrami are clearly the crown jewels, piled high in a warming box behind the deli slicers. Every sandwich is freshly sliced and assembled to order, as it should be, and one even has the option of requesting the meat "extra lean", though why anybody would want to so violate such a beautiful piece of meat is beyond my comprehension. Cured beef aside, the cooler is filled with salads, spreads and some cured fish, and barrels lining the counter contain a large variety of pickled vegetables. Though they prominently feature their kosher hot dogs (topped with bologna?), I haven't been brave enough to try them as of yet. I'm still missing home quite a bit and I'm not so sure I could give them a fair shake right now. As such, sensing a strength, I've mostly been sticking to the sandwiches. Attman's seems to work primarily on a carry-out basis, but they do provide seating in the adjoining "Kibbutz Room" if you'd prefer to stay put. The Kibbutz Room is longer on character than it is on comfort, but if you can shoehorn yourself into a seat it'll give you a place to rest your elbows while you chow down.



I started with the basics, corned beef and pastrami, and was thoroughly pleased by both offerings. Attman's slices their corned beef rather thin, then piles it up. Though they offer the "New York style" gutbusters that contain half a cow, the standard is a modestly sized (and priced) sandwich that could even be considered slightly small by today's oversized standards. The meat is delicious, warm, tender, moist and fatty enough to be flavorful without being obscene. While I've had my fair share of (mostly underwhelming) corned beef, I'm grossly undereducated when it comes to pastrami. If Attman's is any indication, I need to do some further exploration in this regard. The pastrami is sliced a little thicker, and possessed of a peppery, garlicky crust surrounding an unctuous, silken core. This is fairly potent stuff.



The menu also contains the obligatory litany of specialty sandwiches, covering almost every combination and permutation of available ingredients. While Attman's has mercifully opted NOT to name them after celebrities, there are still a few colorful titles up on the board -- the Cloak and Dagger, the Lox O' Luck and the Tongue Fu, among others. Ingredient-wise, however, it was the Gay Liveration that tickled my fancy, so I gave that one a try. It's a double-decker, with corned beef, lettuce, Bermuda onion and a thick layer of Attman's chopped liver. The chopped liver, incidentally, would be a great intro for the otherwise organ-averse. It's smooth, creamy and fairly sweet, but while it has a rather clean flavor, it isn't trying to masquerade as anything other than liver. Great sandwich. On my last visit, having toured some other offerings, I finally humored my reuben obsession. I adore reubens. And while I was a little disappointed to discover that the bread was more like toast (I think my tastes tend more towards a very crispy, griddled diner-style), I can hardly fault a counter deli for serving it in such a manner, and it's a beautiful sandwich, even if it doesn't quite nail every one of my unreasonably specific preferences.

I also carried out some bagels and a lox cheese which was, much to my pleasure, actual lox blended with actual cream cheese. I know I shouldn't be so easily impressed, but I've had enough godawful fakey versions of the same that I've learned to put my defenses up the moment I place the order. The only thing that's disappointed thus far was my ladylove's matzo ball soup, which only reinforces that the sandwiches are really where it's at. But I can't say this bothers me. Kibbutz Room or no Kibbutz Room, Attman's isn't really a restaurant and I don't expect much from soups when it comes to carry-out establishments. It is, however, a place out of time -- one that, I suspect, looks and tastes pretty much the same as it did for the previous two generations.

Attman's Delicatessen
1019 E. Lombard St.
Baltimore, MD 21202
410-563-2666
Mon - Sat 8:00 AM - 6:30 PM
Sun 8:00 AM - 5:00 PM

Broadway Market



One thing Baltimore does NOT lack is markets.

I love old-timey permanent markets. Decrepit buildings, specialized vendors, a little hustle and bustle... love 'em. Which is why I've always found it so frustrating that Chicago doesn't have one. Where's our Tsukiji? Where's our West Side Market? While Baltimore's have the same classic market feel as Cleveland's massive edifice, the charm city has substituted multitude for magnitude. Baltimore maintains six public markets, three of which I've had occasion to visit, and one of which is a scant five blocks from our new home. Broadway Market is smack dab in the heart of Fell's Point, stretching away from the water right down the middle of Broadway. It's been around, in one form or another, for over 200 years. I can't imagine a more ideal location for a place to drop in and get a few fresh ingredients for a simple dinner or some prepared foods, pick up some deli meats, grab some fresh bread, have a bite to eat and walk home. Which is why it was so disappointing to find that Broadway Market has so little to offer. This isn't to say that Broadway Market doesn't have its highlights, it's just that... well... first the highlights.



Seafood has, unsurprisingly, been pretty good in this town. Sal's Seafood is at the far north end of the northern building (the market spans two blocks, split by Aliceanna), and while it isn't mind-blowing, they have a pretty nice selection of fresh fish, mostly whole. On the day I visited, there were also a few sides and filets, scallops, a few types of shrimp, bivalves and, though it's obviously not the focus, a small bushel of live blue crabs to pick through. They will, of course, clean anything to order. Though I didn't partake and can't speak to it, there's also a small raw bar down on one end of the counter, offering a small selection of the basics, freshly prepared by the fellows in between flinging fish. My socks were firmly on my feet, but for a neighborhood fishmonger you could do a whole heckuva lot worse.



Moving down towards the south end of the north building is a stall that makes me wish I knew something -- anything -- about Polish food. I know, I know, I grew up in the town where Casimir Pulaski Day is a government holiday. Let's just call it an embarrassing shortcoming and move on. In any case, the cooler at Sophia's Place has to have at least twenty different varieties of sausages, which can't be a bad thing. There's also some more typical deli fare as well as a case of Polish baked goods, but what's really impressive is the wall lining the back of the stall. It's jam-packed with all manner of products from Eastern Europe -- mixes, drinks, candies, canned goods, prepared foods -- you name it. If somebody who's more familiar with the foods of the region could confirm my suspicion that this place is a little Eastern European goldmine, I'd love to hear. I need to just buy a ton of sausage one day and have a huge taste test.



Moving into the south hall is Dangerous Dave's, a place that somehow combines panini and gelati with spices and hot sauces. In the store, not in your mouth, but it's still an odd mix. The gelati, however, were quite good. More importantly, in the south hall I had the first good tuna melt I've had in a very, very long time. You wouldn't think it should be so hard, but I've been trying them everywhere since leaving Los Angeles and Bob's '49 behind back in 2001 and this is the first one that wasn't a technical mess. Sadly, the name of the place escapes me. Patty's Diner? Peggy's Diner? In any case, it's the southernmost booth on the east side of the building. The fries came out almost white and a little raw tasting (though I thought vinegar and Old Bay as condiments was a nice angle), but the tuna melt was perfect... warm salad, not too moist, melted cheese, crispy griddled bread... this isn't rocket science, but man, everybody screws it up. Wet tuna, cold tuna, cold cheese, English muffin... keep it simple, please.



Seems like a good start, I know, but that's pretty much it. The diner where I got the tuna melt? One of four that all look exactly the same. The only other food stalls are a pizza place, the looks of which don't inspire confidence, and a small Mexican restaurant that failed to grab me, mostly because it's one of forty or so within a three block radius. A large banner out front heralded the arrival of One Eyed Mike, who seems to have some kind of name recognition in this town, and his prepared food booth seemed okay, just thin. A few premium deli meats, a few prepared dishes, some cheeses, marinated olives and vegetables... nothing eye-popping and a very limited selection. Really, limited selection was an issue across the board. The entire market houses one produce stand with a very small and mundane selection. And butchers? Zip. Bakeries? Nothing. So there are twice as many diners as there are butchers, fishmongers, bakeries and produce vendors combined, and the empty stalls outnumber the diners. Broadway Market's official site doesn't indicate that I'm missing anything, but web searches turn up reports of a butcher, a cheesemonger and some other stalls that are now absent, so I have to wonder if this is a recent decline. Whether it is or not, it's a damn shame. It's a great little pair of buildings in a perfect location. Just seems like a waste.

Broadway Market
1640-1641 Aliceanna St.
Baltimore, MD 21231
Mon - Sat 7:00 AM - 6:00 PM

Got some catching up to do.

Cinco de Mayo 2



I'm making a little more headway, combing the neighborhood for a taqueria that tickles my fancy, and Cinco de Mayo 2 was the name of my latest stop. There are probably a good 20-30 places in the immediate neighborhood to try, and with no info online that I can find, deciding which to start with is largely an arbitrary process. Cinco de Mayo's sign, however, contained one word that vaulted them right to the top of my to-do list. I miss Cemitas Puebla. A lot. So when I drove by and saw "cemitas" printed on Cinco's sign, I dropped in. And then, against my better judgment, I went back.



Cinco de Mayo 2 is both grocery and restaurant, with an original location (which I haven't visited) in Glen Burnie. Upon entering, the first room is rather quaint. There's a small produce stand with a few staples, a cooler with some cheeses, a butcher on duty and a wall full of candy. Passing through a doorway, the place gets a little more stark -- a long, narrow room with dry goods lining the walls and fluorescent lights overhead. And only by walking through this room do you reach the restaurant proper.

It's a full-service restaurant that seats about 40, and it might as well be 200 feet underground. They've tried to dress it up with a couple of plants, paintings and mylar streamers, but with a brick floor and tile walls, exposed ductwork, poor lighting and a complete absence of windows, it feels less like a restaurant and more like Fiesta Night at the Führerbunker. Don't get me wrong, I love weird little hole-in-the-wall joints, but when I keep looking over my shoulder expecting to see a sombrero-clad Goebbels, it makes it a little difficult to enjoy my lunch.



It's a good-sized menu, with an extensive selection of tacos, tostadas, sopes and burritos, as well as a handful of full plates, both meat and seafood based. This probably isn't where I should be having a coctel de camaron, but it's one of my standbys, even in its lowest form. It's overpriced at $10 (as is almost every shrimp dish everywhere -- another subject for another time), but it's a fairly generous portion, served in a large goblet. I believe it's a ketchup base, which I don't mind, but the balance is all off. It had a very strong dried chile flavor, which somehow seems inappropriate to me, and was crying out for lime. The shrimp were pretty blah, but the biggest problem was that it was nearly room temperature. Something like this has to be cold, cold, cold. Or at least cold.



I also tried to get my fix, opting for the cemita milanesa de res. I suppose I was just looking for disappointment. Most of the same components as my beloved sandwiches from Cemitas Puebla were there -- sesame roll, breaded and fried meat, avocado, queso fresco and chipotles -- and Cinco's also includes some tomato, onion, and a layer of refried beans. But everything here was just flat and tasteless. The bread seemed to have been toasted, but was somehow still limp and wet. Though the milanesa platter at the table next to me looked fresh, the cutlet on my sandwich was a greasy, leather-tough slab without a hint of crispness. The chipotles were canned, which probably isn't unreasonable, but I've been spoiled by the house-pickled ones to which I've become accustomed. In any case, it was just a bad sandwich.



The tacos left a little room for optimism. They're stuffed to the gills and nicely plated with radishes, grilled cebollitas and strips of a sautéed vegetable that I believe was cactus. As for the tacos themselves, the carne enchilado, some manner of heavily seasoned pork, was spicy, bold and enjoyable, if not exceptional. I found the carnitas somewhat odd. It was a pile of very pale meat without the slightest browning of any kind, and for a dish that's normally braised or roasted to exceptional tenderness, there was an awful lot of connective tissue that still had most of its bite. It's as though they were halfway through prep and decided to just serve it to me as-is. One pleasant, if unexpected, surprise was the taco al pastor. I generally make it a rule not to order al pastor unless I can see the cone, but what can I say... the craving was getting to me. Cinco's pork seemed more oven-roasted than spit-roasted, but they did manage a little bit of char by some unknown measure. What caught me off guard, however, was that it was downright fruity. There's been a lot of recent discussion here regarding what constitutes a "true" al pastor, and this was my first shot at a pineapple-laden taco. I expected a little, but I was getting a couple chunks of pineapple in every bite. I can't speak to its authenticity, but I did enjoy it. I doubt, however, that I'll be ordering it again. I could see maybe grabbing a couple of tacos to go if I stop in for dried chiles from the market, but otherwise there's nothing I feel compelled to come back for. Especially considering the surroundings.

Cinco de Mayo 2
1312 Eastern Ave.
Baltimore, MD 21231
410-522-7646

Faidley's Fish Sandwich

Faidley's is widely recognized as a Baltimore institution, and rightfully so. They serve a damn fine crabcake. I'm told its equal can be found elsewhere, but I have yet to come across it. I'd say Faidley's : Baltimore :: Johnnie's : Chicago. They're widely recognized as an excellent purveyor of the city's signature dish, they're regularly touted as "the best" and their detractors are few, even if some feel that other options are marginally better. In any case, the conventional wisdom is that Faidley's is all about the crabcakes, but as I recently discovered, they make a damn fine fish sandwich, too.



Faidley's is not just about the crabcakes. This is a killer sandwich. It's nothing but a fresh piece of fish, battered and fried and stuck between two slices of bread (the slaw and hot sauce were per the recommendation of the fellow over at Don Rockwell who sent me in the sandwich's direction), but it's perfectly done. It's all about texture and temperature contrast. Cool white bread is followed by a surprisingly crispy coating, which in turn gives way to a hot, moist, flaky fish core. Pictured here is the haddock, though there are a couple of other options as well.

With this sandwich in play, what to get at Faidley's is no longer a foregone conclusion in my mind. It's that good.

Faidley Seafood
Lexington Market
203 North Paca
Baltimore, MD 21201
410-727-4898
Mon - Sat 9:00 AM - 5:00 PM

Pit Beef



Like so many here, my love for the Italian beef is deep. It abides. They are my hands-down favorite of the Chicago signature foods, and their absence from my backyard has only heightened my appreciation for them. And now here I am, a new resident of a city that considers a different type of beef sandwich, the pit beef, one of its signature foods. What's more, the pit beef is most typically produced in the same kind of borderline grungy little grub shacks that produce most of Chicago's great Italian beefs. Switch the sandwiches, beam people from one city to the other and nobody would be the wiser. You'd think I'd be feeling a special kinship with the good people of Baltimore. You'd think I'd be flying all over the city devoting the kind of obsessive attention to my adoptive beef sandwich that I did to my hometown beef sandwich. You'd think, over four months into our tour of duty out here on the East Coast, that I'd have written about the pit beef by now. But with all due deference to my new neighbors, and with the understanding that I have to try a lot more of these things before I can address the subject in an educated fashion, here's the thing:

I just can't get all that excited about pit beef.



In simplest terms, a pit beef is a large chunk of beef that's lightly seasoned on the outside, grilled over a cool fire, sliced thin and served on a kaiser roll. In practice, it's a little more involved, but not much. Most good pit beef places will let you select your level of doneness. The condiment bars are often vast and varied, but the most popular topping appears to be raw onion and horseradish or tiger sauce (horseradish and mayo), followed closely by heavy, sweet barbecue sauce. I kicked things off by visiting Chaps Pit Beef, which would seem to be the most renowned and respected of Baltimore's pit beef institutions. I sampled multiple sandwiches with multiple toppings at multiple temperatures, but the thought that kept coming back to me was, "Yeah... it's a good roast beef sandwich."



That might be a little unfair. Great care goes into their preparation, the char on the outside can add a nice bit of grungy character if you get enough of it, and there's always something to be said for stripped-down simplicity. But still... it's a good roast beef sandwich. Sometimes fairly tough, not terribly exciting, but a good pile of fire-roasted beef. Certainly worthy, and something I'll crave from time to time, but worth consuming in similar quantities as my hometown favorite? Tough sell. Of course, I'm well aware that the biggest names in town aren't necessarily the best. So I dug a little deeper when searching for another establishment to try, and came up with Bull on the Run.



Bull on the Run is off the beaten path. Literally. It's a little red trailer kitchen that's parked on a commercial access road a hundred yards off Washington Boulevard in Halethorpe. The only way to spot it is the sandwich board out on the corner directing you towards "PIT BEEF --->". It's run by a couple of friendly gals who have a large enclosed 'cue on the back of the wagon and a compact but formidable condiment bar right next to the register. Much to my surprise, they're open year-round, which leads me to believe that either that BBQ gives off an awful lot of heat, or the winters in Baltimore will be a breeze after Chicago*. In any case, you select your temperature (of the beef, not of the environment in which it's served), dress your sandwich and then retreat to your car to consume your meaty bounty.



And lo and behold, this meaty bounty just might be worthy of a beef-off. Bull on the Run's beef doesn't quite share Chaps' charred character, but it had something my Chaps sandwiches didn't -- a bull full of fresh beef flavor. Plus, other differences impressed. The meat still had some chew, but it was tender and every bite wasn't a wrestling match. The onions were sliced paper thin, and while that may seem a tiny detail, I assure you, it's key. Even the tiger sauce seemed a better match for my rare beef, bringing out its flavor rather than merely coexisting on the same chewy bun. I still don't quite understand the fanatical devotion so many seem to have to these sandwiches, but as all of these elements came together I realized that I'd come a little too close to writing them off entirely. I'm still not sold on a Beef-Off: Baltimore, and I need to spend the last couple months of the year better familiarizing myself with the institution. But I'm much more optimistic than I was a couple of weeks ago.

Chaps Pit Beef
5801 Pulaski Highway
Baltimore, MD 21205
410-483-2379

Bull on the Run
3900 Block of Washington Blvd.
Halethorpe, MD 21227

* - I wrote this in November. They totally are.

I'm a huge fan of "The Wire" - you've got to give me an up close and personal look at a lake trout sandwich and some Utz crab chips.

Fast Eddie wrote:I'm a huge fan of "The Wire" - you've got to give me an up close and personal look at a lake trout sandwich and some Utz crab chips.

Is a trout sandwich a Baltimore thing? I actually haven't come across that yet. I'll keep my eyes peeled.

Curious googling led to this link which lists several other spots besides "the best":

Best of Baltimore 2005 | Best Lake Trout: The Roost

I guess if timeliness matters, one might want to check out the 2007 winner, Chick 'n Trout, but I like the photo of the Roost! Also, they won in 1996, so maybe the long history is good for something.

Dom, I appreciate your documentation of Baltimore; I have a good friend who lives in Columbia and I'm queuing up spots for next time I visit him.

Dmnkly wrote:

Fast Eddie wrote:I'm a huge fan of "The Wire" - you've got to give me an up close and personal look at a lake trout sandwich and some Utz crab chips.

Is a trout sandwich a Baltimore thing? I actually haven't come across that yet. I'll keep my eyes peeled.

Oh absolutely, in The Wire every ten minutes someone's either running out for one or snarfing a bag of Utz crab chips. And it's a LAKE trout sandwich, not trout - be careful. Has nothing to do with trout, they actually use a saltwater fish.

On second glance, I think that "fish" sandwich you have pictured above could be the elusive lake trout but your pic shows it all smothered in cole slaw or something which I don't think belongs on the classic version. Very popular item in the 'hood from what I understand. I've seen them on the show, but I've never seen a LTH-style food porn still life. If you ever find yourself on the east or west side you'll probably see a lot of places selling them.

Jesus Tapdancing Christ.

Maryland moves to ban foie gras.

I didn't check the bottom of my shoe when I left. Must've tracked the insanity in with me.

*sigh*

I have been waiting for your pit-beef experience write-up and enjoyed the reviews. I have some college friends from Baltimore and we routinely got into discussions about Italian beef vs Pit Beef. I have never been to Baltimore but I have made a pit-beef recipe from from Steven Raichlen's "Barbecue Bible" a few times in past summers and your description of one is dead on with how they turned out. They were really good roast beef sandwich's with a charred taste from the crust and when piled high on a fresh bun and slathered in a nice horseradish sauce quite good. Pit beef's are a good sandwich but the Italian beef is so much more complex and so hard to duplicate at home that it takes the crown in my book. It was nice to read a Chicagoan's thought on how they compare with a beef.

Da Beef wrote:It was nice to read a Chicagoan's thought on how they compare with a beef.

Heh... well, I hate to call one better. I mean, they're both sliced beef on bread and the similarities pretty much end there. But that said, I don't anticipate developing the same obsession for pit beef that I have for Italian beef

Dmnkly wrote:In simplest terms, a pit beef is a large chunk of beef that's lightly seasoned on the outside, grilled over a cool fire, sliced thin and served on a kaiser roll. In practice, it's a little more involved, but not much.

Dom,

I've hit a few Baltimore pit beef stands, Chap's being the best I've tried, seems a visit to Bull on the Run is a must do next time I'm in Baltimore. If you haven't been, or even if you have, I'd suggest a visit to the Northpoint Farmers Market, excellent produce with a diverse range of prepared on the spot foods including pit beef.

Thanks for sharing your Baltimore explorations, I'm sure it will enhance my next visit.

Enjoy,
Gary

Northpoint Farmers Market
2401 N Point Blvd
Baltimore, MD 21222
410-285-6686

Yes, thanks, Dom! We have relatives of the mall-satellite-restaurant variety that live in the area; good to have a 'sneak off on our own' guide for future visits...

Pit beef and beef on weck are two regional beef sandwiches with a lot of history sold from taverns, stands and joints, much like IB. Unlike IB, however, I just don't see out-of-towners taking a cab or limo during a layover at the airport to get a pit beef. We know that happens with IB, for good reason. It's pretty unique.

Let it be known that large-scale Mardi Gras wonkiness is not limited to LTH events.

I've heard it said that good reviews are easy and bad reviews are easy. It's those ones in the middle that are tough to write. And even though I don't like to think of my writings as reviews (I like to think I'm just sharing my experience rather than speaking from a position of authority), I understand the sentiment. There are only so many ways to say "it was okay." But as tricky as it can be getting a handle on a meal that is neither good nor bad, it might be even trickier getting a handle on a meal that is both.



Enter Darker Than Blue. I've been attending regular events with some Baltimore Chowhounders (who have been kind enough to take in this homesick LTHer), and a couple of months back, marked their Mardi Gras celebration. Casey Jenkins, the owner and head chef, is a friendly, energetic guy who loves great comfort food and great jazz and has put together a warm and lively room that was stuffed by our band of thirty. And our band of thirty was, in turn, stuffed by a special Mardi Gras menu that it would seem is something of a departure from the restaurant's regular fare.



Man, did we start off with a bang. This photo conveys neither the scale nor the potency of the bowl of gumbo set in front of me. Gumbo is not soup and I hate it when people try to make it so. No worries here, as Jenkins' take was exactly what I want from gumbo. It was dark, thick, spicy, intense and a little dirty. The roux was fully developed, the andouille was fresh and abundant, and in a particularly nice touch, the okra maintained its consistency with aplomb. It was a beautiful, bold dish that immediately got me excited about the rest of the meal, to say nothing of potential future meals.

So I snagged their regular menu only to discover that the evening's Cajun treats were nowhere to be found. Frankly, it left me confused. Jenkins espoused his down home approach while introducing his menu, but with items like chicken fingers, sliders, Buffalo wings and mini crabcakes, the appetizers read more like a bar menu than that of a midscale restaurant run by a CIA grad. The entrees appeared simple -- excessively so -- with items like fried chicken, baby back ribs and a NY strip with garlic mashed potatoes cashing in at $18+. I have absolutely nothing against upscale comfort foods. I'm quite fond of them, in fact. And I certainly don't mean to judge a menu without even having tried it, but it mostly left me wondering what he was doing to them to justify the price. It also illustrated that our host was, perhaps, a little out of his element on this particular evening, which went a ways towards explaining some issues later in the meal.



Anxious to get to the next dish after a great start, I was a little taken aback when Jenkins' Grilled Honey BBQ Shrimp Skewers hit the table. The dish's appearance was that of unremarkable mixed greens, plain grilled shrimp and institutional BBQ sauce, while the dish's reality was that of unremarkable mixed greens, plain grilled shrimp and a BBQ sauce that I suspect was institutional. While our first course seemed to indicate a skillful, careful approach, our second course just seemed haphazard and half-hearted. Serve them to me on separate days and I'd never suspect that they came out of the same kitchen. Sure, most places will have their hits and misses, but a chef that produces valiant successes also usually produces valiant failures. But these two dishes were so far out on opposite ends of the spectrum that I really wasn't sure what to expect next.



What we got next was a small dish containing what Jenkins seems to consider a signature dish of sorts. A side on his regular menu, the mac and cheese was a warm, gooey little mess that, much like the music at times, was kinda blue. Though he apologized for being unable to obtain his usual Maytag blue, I'm not convinced that whatever he came up with as a substitute wasn't a better choice. The blue wasn't in lieu of the usual mac and cheese pantheon, but rather an additional accent that surprised me by how well it blended in. Though Jenkins' business partner joked about giving away their secret ingredient, there really wouldn't have been any guesswork involved. But it absolutely didn't dominate. The blue cheese made its presence known, but played well with others, making for a very welcome little twist on a comfort classic. Score one more for Dr. Jekyll.



And then Mr. Hyde appeared once again, this time in the form of Black Skillet Andouille Jambalaya. The accompanying corn bread, sweet and moist, and whipped sweet potato butter were nice enough accompaniments, but the main event should have been an accompaniment itself. I could easily ignore the fact that it wasn't like any jambalaya I'd ever had if it were an otherwise great dish, but instead it was our second head-scratcher of the night. It was more rice pilaf than jambalaya, with a few bits of vegetable and sage and a token chunk of andouille. Had it been seated beneath a piece of grilled fish and surrounded by a puddle of sauce I probably wouldn't have given it a second thought. At worst, I would have considered it an uninspired but perfectly adequate accompanying starch. But as a standalone dish, it just fell flat. Everyone present passed around the table's saltshaker (was the dish tasted before it left the kitchen?), and though significantly improved, it wasn't nearly enough.



Our next dish was much in the same vein as the last -- technically competent, but mostly boring. A large fillet of cornmeal-crusted and fried catfish sat atop a monster pile of plain grits, and was accompanied by vinegared cucumbers and tomatoes and clarified butter. I'm all for simple. But if you're going to do something as simple as cornmeal-crusted catfish with plain grits, it had better be awesome. It wasn't awesome. It was worthy, with a flaky, moist interior and nicely crisped crust. But the grits were completely unseasoned (and overly abundant), the fried fish and butter absolutely demanded acid, and while the vegetables provided some, they did so in a wholly uninspiring manner. Give those vegetables some interest, season the grits somehow or work some kind of acid into that butter to make a tart sauce and this is a totally different dish. But as it stood, while I hate to use such a generic adjective, it was bland.



And this is where the service, which had been slowing down throughout the evening, came to a screeching halt. The break between the catfish and the next dish was over 45 minutes, and with dinner approaching four hours on a school night, we suffered some serious attrition. As mentioned, we completely filled the place and they admirably (or perhaps arrogantly) attempted to individually plate and serve thirty servings for each course, so this may or may not have any bearing on their typical ability to expedite, but even the most gung ho of the bunch started flagging. And then, just when the crowd dropped to single digits and we were getting ready to write off the evening, out came another delicious dish.

It wasn't as tight as it should have been (clearly something was going on back there), but the flavor was back with a vengeance and we ended up with a really enjoyable finish. A pecan-crusted slice of pork loin came with mashed sweet potatoes, sautéed spinach and a Kahlua cream sauce that incorporated, of all things, cantaloupe and honeydew melon. It was a rather unconventional take on the pork and fruit combination that would have raised eyebrows had it been disclosed in full up front, but hey, it worked, and that's all that matters. What's more, the pork was beautifully cooked, moist and tender and a wee bit pink, just as it should be.

I honestly don't know what to make of the place. I'm hesitant to read too much into it, given the large group, huge menu and the fact that it seemed such a glaring departure from his regular fare. I'd still like to think I can get a good handle on what a chef is capable of, even under such unusual circumstances, but I don't know that I've ever had a meal that was so oddly hit and miss. I don't know if he overreached and tried to pad the menu with dishes that really shouldn't have been there -- less really would have been more with the right cuts -- but it was like two different chefs were trading courses. The talented one would compose and send out a nice dish, then the less-than-talented one would tag in and throw a few things together that were lying around. One thing's for certain. The very first dish (and a couple of subsequent offerings) demonstrated that great things can emerge from that kitchen. After hearing how much we enjoyed it, Jenkins said he was considering adding the gumbo to his regular menu and it would be a great move. That's a dish that would bring me back. But it would be with the feeling that whatever followed it could be rich and comforting or flat and tasteless... who knows? If our dinner was any reflection of the regular menu, there's plenty of room for optimism. I prefer to keep my dining and my gambling separate, however, so I don't know that I'm ready to go running back until I hear a few more good things.

Or until that gumbo goes on the menu.

Darker Than Blue
3034 Greenmount Ave.
Baltimore, MD 21218
443-872-4468
Tue - Thu 11:00 AM - 9:00 PM
Fri - Sat 11:00 AM - 10:00 PM
Sun 11:00 AM - 8:00 PM

About six years ago, I took my first and only trip to South America. At least I think so. It's all a blur, really. I'm told we visited Peru, but mostly I remember airplanes. Twelve of them, to be precise, in less than four days. We wanted to accept an offer from some friends to visit a farm, school and free clinic that we were helping to support, and with an absurd travel schedule that year we had to condense the trip into the quickest surgical strike possible. So despite being in the country for less than 72 hours, we went Lima to Tacna to Lima to Piura to Lima -- two flights in, two flights out, and two domestic flights for each leg inside Peru. The fact that we remained basically at the same longitude was a small blessing, but it was still the most exhausting trip I've ever taken, and -- bonus -- the epilogue was the most brutal, gut-wrenching, full body convulsing on the bathroom floor, dear-god-I-think-I-can-taste-my-lower-intestines bout of food poisoning I've ever experienced in my life on the night of our return. I've often said that if a few horrible nights with my head in the porcelain buys me a lifetime of raw eggs, meats and seafood, it's capital well-spent. But I think I earned myself several lifetimes' worth that night. If you need one, let me know.



In any case, to say my trip to Peru was under suboptimal circumstances would be a colossal understatement. And yet, the food made a huge impression on me. My experience with South American foods at the time was (and frankly, still is) borderline nil. Having never read about Peruvian, I was expecting some simply seasoned grilled meats, lots of corn, and starch upon starch upon starch. Instead, I was floored by the complexity and sophistication of some of the dishes we sampled. The food we had was unlike anything I've tasted before or since, and while the details of what we ate were lost in the total whirlwind of the trip, it made a lasting impression. Despite my best intentions, I never quite managed to get to Chicago's establishments to further my studies. Despite my proximity to Rinconcito Sudamericano for six years, whenever I raised it as a possible dinner destination, my ladylove gave a look that said something on the order of "if you really want, but I kind of wish you'd choose anything else". I never had the heart to pull the trigger. As such, when it comes to Peruvian, I'm still a novice... but I'm learning.



So I was positively tickled to discover that we have a great little family run Peruvian joint a few blocks from our new home. If it were in Chicago and if I were more confident in my knowledge of Peruvian to be able to judge its excellence, I'd strongly consider nominating it for a GNR. It's just that kind of place -- casual, no-frills, easy to fall into, delicious and hearty, and run by some wonderful, welcoming people. I've been dropping by for lunch a lot lately... so much so that Luz, who does front/back of house double duty during the day, has gotten in the habit of slapping the little fella on her hip while she cruises the room taking orders, so I can get a little break to enjoy my lunch. The first thing to hit the table is always a little cup of cancha, kernels of toasted Peruvian corn. It's a nice little munch that demands accompanying refreshment. Given the astounding ubiquity of Inca Kola down in Peru (it's their Coca-Cola and Pepsi all in one, as far as I can determine), it's odd that I didn't try any at the time. So I was pleased to satisfy that curiosity, if not my thirst. The best way I can think to describe Inca Kola is somewhere between cream soda and bubblegum soda, neither of which I find particularly refreshing. What I loved, however, was the chicha morada. Though I understand it's an alcoholic beverage through the rest of South America, the Peruvian version isn't fermented. It's built off a Peruvian purple corn base, and Luz's version includes pineapple juice, lime, cinnamon and chunks of apple (among other items I might not be identifying). It's not at all what I would have expected from a corn-based drink. I've heard some compare it to sangria, but I think that's a lazy and inaccurate description. It's light, refreshing, pleasantly fruity with a slightly tart edge, it has a little body, and it's not overly sweet. I can't imagine a more perfect drink for a hot day.



The first dish I tried at Rinconcito Peruano is still one of my favorites. It's rather unusual compared to the ceviches to which I'm accustomed, but I understand it's very typical for a Peruvian ceviche. Believe it or not, there is a big pile of fish under there, and the complication obscuring it belies its simplicity. It's a bare bones marinade that's clean, heavy on the lime and very spicy. Though I neglected to ask what type of fish she uses, it's a firm whitefish of some nature and mine was moist and succulent. The accompanying onions were entirely expected, but the boiled corn and sweet potatoes certainly weren't. And I was surprised to find that they worked. There was a small amount of seaweed of some nature, and the ceviche was sprinkled with some cancha as well, which I particularly enjoyed. The crunch was a fun textural contrast and you don't have to be a tequila drinker to know that salt and lime work together.



Peruvian to the local Chowhound crowd seems to mean Pollo alla Brasa, but as far as I can tell, that's only due to the number of places that specialize in the dish. Though I've only been to a couple of the dedicated chicken joints, Rinconcito Peruano produces a lovely version. I've been told (though not by Luz) that the chicken rotisserie was brought in from Peru. What makes this oven superior to something that could be acquired in the States, I have no idea, but I have a hard time believing you go to that expense without a good reason. In any case, there's no knocking the product, which is moist and tender and intensely flavorful. I don't know what comprises the seasoning, but it's perfect -- assertive enough to make the chicken sing, but not so much that it comes across as anything but a pure roasted chicken dish. Mine arrived with three sauces. The first was, I believe, some manner of commercial ranch dressing which held no interest. I pegged the second as a mayonnaise and mustard mix, which was a nice dip for the chicken even if it wasn't anything particularly noteworthy. The third sauce, however, was dynamite, and perfect for the chicken. Fresh, green and spicy, I'm guessing it was olive oil, cilantro and jalapenos blended together. I was offered either potato fries or yuca fries for my starch, and opted for the latter, which I'd never tried before. The yuca was quite starchy and it lacked a potato's sweetness, but that starch made for an incredibly crisp fry that was really enjoyable from a textural standpoint.



Another chicken dish I've enjoyed is the Aji de Gallina. I had to add a little salt to wake it up, (easily done with the shaker on the table), but the end result was a rich, comforting stew that seemed somewhat at odds with descriptions I've read of Aji de Gallina elsewhere. It's a creamy dish of stewed chicken, made with yellow chiles, cheese and ground walnuts, and I've heard it can be quite spicy but I didn't find Luz's version so. Far from aggressively spiced, I found it very mellow and hearty. It also included some olives and sliced hard boiled eggs, and was paired with both boiled potatoes and rice (double starch -- this is still South America). It's not the most exotic dish, but on a cold day I found it tender, warm and comforting.



One dish I did remember trying in Peru was lomo saltado, and I rather enjoy Rinconcito's version. It's humble food, but it's a great example of the multifaceted nature of Peruvian cuisine. Marinated sliced steak is stir-fried with onions, tomatoes, and other vegetables, seasoned with wine, vinegar, cilantro and chiles, then served atop french fries and doused with the stir-fry sauce. What makes it interesting is the inclusion of soy sauce, which positions the dish somewhere between Spanish and Chinese. Luz's take is also fairly heavy on the cumin. The steak is a chewy cut that's full of flavor, and the potatoes get that gravy fries kind of effect, where the sauce soaks in and turns it into a slightly mushy mess that appeals on a very base, satisfying level. There's rice as well, but here I find it redundant. Rinconcito Peruano isn't open especially late, but if it were, this would be fantastic post-drinking food.



A special that isn't on the menu but can frequently be found on the specials board next to the kitchen door (which is easy to miss... be sure you don't) is Cuy Frito, or fried guinea pig. I'm always thrilled to try a new beast, and this was my first crack at guinea pig. This is a dish that's frequently cited as a prime example of the horrors of international dining which, as far as I'm concerned, is just ugly ethnocentrism at work. From a practical standpoint in a country that's home to a great deal of poverty, they're a source of meat that is extremely easy for anybody to breed at home. Besides which, they were raised as food in the Andes a couple thousand years before they became trendy as pets in the West, so if you feel these guys should be sitting atop wood chips instead of potatoes, know that you're in the minority. In any case, if this particular preparation of Cuy Frito was indicative of the dish in general, I'm not in a big rush to have it again. The flavor actually brought quail to mind, and the skin was wonderfully crispy in places. Unfortunately, it was tough and leathery in others, which wasn't enjoyable despite the delicious seasoning. But I suspect it wasn't quite right. Luz mentioned that she gets hers frozen from Peru, and I can't believe that's a good thing for the meat's texture. But whether a function of the meat's source, the kitchen's skill or just bad luck, I suspect it can be a whole lot better. In any case, it's served with some pickled onions and cheesy potatoes, both of which are a good match.



I was also sure to have the Anticuchos, or grilled skewers of beef heart. I'm really getting to be a fan of heart. While it was at the other end of the refinement spectrum, I had a veal heart at Charlie Trotter's a couple of years back that just knocked my socks off. I'm not sure why heart isn't enjoyed more broadly. Well, I suppose I do, I just find it unfortunate. What I truly don't understand is why it's always lumped in with organ meats. Yes, it is an organ, I suppose, but it's fundamentally the same thing as a steak (i.e. muscle tissue), and in any case is a heckuva lot closer to a filet than it is to tripe or liver or sweetbreads or any other variety meats. It's just intense. Here it's prepared as simply as can be. It's grilled with a very light marinade, and served with rice and the same green dipping sauce as the Pollo alla Brasa. If intensely flavored grilled beefy beef is up your alley, this will satisfy immensely.

I've worked about halfway through the regular menu and typical specials, and the hardest thing in my recent visits has been deciding whether to continue exploring the cuisine or to double back and enjoy some of the favorites I've discovered thus far. Thankfully, Rinconcito Peruano is a humble, welcoming little place that I'm all too happy to return to. I expect to miss it when we leave.

Rinconcito Peruano
1801 E. Lombard St.
Baltimore, MD 21231
410-276-2036
Tue - Thu 11:00 AM - 9:00 PM
Fri - Sat 11:00 AM - 10:00 PM
Sun 11:00 AM - 9:00 PM

Dom,

Another thing to add to your list of Baltimore food items to check out are the Berger Cookies talked about in the most recent issue of Saveur. They appear to be cousins of traditional black and white cookies, but are covered with a thick fudge frosting rather than the thinner chocolate and vanilla topping of the B&W cookies. Being a big B&W cookie fan, I'm very curious about these.

Dom--a propos of your bang-on comments re: heart, next time you make a stew—beef, lamb or veal—replace about a third of the steak/chuck whatever with the appropriate heart. It makes an amazing difference in the richness of the resulting stew. I used to serve a "Hunter's Moon Beef Stew" during Octoberfest at my winery which included a nice proportion of heart. People would ask why the stew was soooo rich, I'd just say "cooking talent, I guess" and give 'em a wink. Crazily enough, no one ever twigged it.

I agree with you in wondering why it's not more used...

Geo

One of the things that's been a little frustrating to me here is the online food community. I'd always been somewhat ambivalent towards Chowhound until it was my primary online discussion forum. Now that I've been using it for a year, while I won't say I hate Chowhound, I'll just say that I appreciate LTH all the more. Donrockwell.com would be a nice alternative, except that it's very DC-oriented, and though Don has taken great pains to give Baltimore its own board and not lump it in with DC, it lacks the critical mass of Baltimore-based posters necessary to make it a regular source of information.

What I have found rather nice, however, is Charm City Hounds -- an independent complement to Chowhound that's centered on getting Baltimore food nerds together to eat. It's a great group of people, we've had a number of great meals together, and they've really become a home away from home for me.

Earlier this summer (I'm... uh... a little behind again) I organized a taco crawl through the Mexican neighborhood that borders on Little Italy. One of the things I love about Baltimore's Little Italy is that it's a classic, old ethnic enclave bordering on a new, vibrant ethnic enclave. Eastern and High street? Pasta. Three blocks east to Eastern and Broadway? Tacos. While I can't say I've hit every taqueria in the area, in the process of doing my scouting for the crawl, I hit quite a few. They're mostly concentrated along Eastern avenue, and these are some of the ones I tried along that stretch.



Starting on the west end of the strip is Las Palmas. It's a cute little shop on the north side of the street with a fairly extensive menu of standards and it's the nicest room of this bunch. It's still very small and exceedingly downscale, but it's bright and well-maintained and generally pleasant to hang around. Unless you're doing battle with the chef's son over an appropriate volume level for Power Rangers (I felt 8 was reasonable, but he seemed to feel that 23 was necessary for the full effect). But the folks are friendly and it's easy to drop in and grab a bite. I'm pretty sure they're using Sinaloa's tortillas (most of the taquerias in the neighborhood do, and with good reason), but unfortunately Las Palmas' tacos are a little weak. They just seemed underseasoned all around, though the texture on the lengua I tried was a medium dice seared to a nice crisp, and I loved it. On the few occasions I've drifted away from the tacos, I've been disappointed. Everything is crisply executed, beautifully plated... and kind of tasteless. It's a weird incongruity. I can't think of any other place offhand that prepares everything with such obvious care and yet somehow falls totally flat on flavor. And the care is so obvious that I keep trying, hoping that maybe I had an off day. But I've had a few "off days" now and I've pretty much given up on anything other than the tacos.



Frankly, what excited me most about Las Palmas was the salsas. They serve a red and green with the tacos, and both are very simple, clean and delicious. The red was smooth and a little oily with a nice smoky chile flavor. It clearly wasn't meant to stand on its own, but as a taco accent I thought it was particularly nice. The green, however, was awesome. It's very watery, which I mean as an expression of its consistency and not an indictment of its flavor, which is excellent. It's a tomatillo base with jalapeno, cilantro, very finely diced onion and bits of avocado (among other things, I'm sure). Nothing special or unusual in terms of ingredients, but it was exceptionally fresh, green, light and vibrant -- obviously made with great care. The bistec ended up being one of my favorite tacos in the area on the strength of that salsa, even if it wasn't particularly noteworthy otherwise.

Moving further east and a couple of blocks up Broadway, there's a silver taco truck on the east side of the street that goes by Tacos Jalisco. I tried their chivo and some manner of beef (I've now forgotten which) and both were good, but speed and convenience aside I didn't see a compelling reason to pick them over some of the other options in the immediate area. They were significantly cheaper, but the size seemed proportional to the price.



The next place down the line, however, is very compelling. Back on Eastern, just east of Broadway and directly across the street from Tortilleria Sinaloa, is a funky joint that goes by either Palomino Restaurant or the Starlight Bar & Lounge, depending on which sign you believe. I can't find evidence of either name anywhere on the internet, so it remains a mystery. Palomino is long on character, an impressive bar running one side, pool tables in the back and a tableful of guys playing cards that seems to be a permanent fixture. If you aren't deaf when you enter, you will be by the time you leave, since the stereo blares an odd mix of Mariachi music and Mexican hip hop at Friday night levels even on Tuesday afternoons. However loud you think it is, it's louder. The fact that I return probably says something.



Palomino throws in a small bowl of soup with every meal, which is nice, but the fact that the soup is usually quite good is extra nice. I've never had anything subtle. They've all been potent, spicy, slightly oily broths with varying bases. The one you see here was a spicy chicken soup with a drumette thrown in. Once you get to the tacos, Palomino certainly has its style. Grilled and griddled options are completely absent, and the taco selections instead focus on braised and roasted meats. The carnitas, pictured here, were quite lovely if not as porktastic as you'd expect from the places that specialize in carnitas. They were also the driest of the tacos I tried (though only on a relative scale), as the rest of the list is rather saucy. The barbacoa, in particular, is bold and wet, almost more stewed than what I think of as barbacoa, but delicious nonetheless. The one complaint I could make is that Palomino is often very heavy on the grease. Given the nature of my old 3 AM haunt back in Chicago, the grease feels like home to me. But I couldn't fault those who are put off by it.



Though it seems to have consistency issues, El Taquito, another block east, is where I had the best plate of tacos I've yet tasted in Baltimore. I had the puerco, cecina and lamb barbacoa on that particular occasion. The puerco was moist and tender and had the fat that Sinaloa lacks and Palomino has in abundance. Simple but great flavor. I loved the cecina (salted beef), pleasantly chewy with a nice marinade, seared and crispy on the edges. The lamb barbacoa was probably my favorite on that day, tender but with substance, lightly seasoned, and chock full of meaty lamb intensity. I later sampled the pollo, not a typical choice for me, and loved it. I suspect it was roasted, then shredded and crisped on the griddle. But in any case it was crusted in places with a great seasoning mix, and even the tortillas had been skillfully griddled, taking on just a little crispy texture in places. And the price is right. Three great tacos, a Mexican coke, tax and tip for $10 says winner in my book. When it's on, this is my favorite taco spot in Baltimore. Sadly, it's only on to that degree about 30% of the time.



All of these restaurants already mentioned have their merits, but one place for which I can universally recommend a pass is Tijuana Tacos. I had a good feeling upon walking in the door, but it's possible that's because, based on the name, I was anticipating Tex-Mex and tequila. In actuality, it's a humble little taqueria/bodega with all of the usuals on the menu. The tacos section has seven or eight offerings, each for $2.50 apiece. In what may be the deal of the century, ordering three tacos will earn you the privilege of paying an extra 50 cents (an order of three tacos is listed at $8.00). My first visit was mediocre, but my second put me over the edge. The carne asada was sautéed. Not a hint of fire or smoke to be found. Also, when you order carnitas and al pastor and can't determine which is supposed to be which, that's really not a good sign.

That some Chowhounders recommend Taco Fiesta in Harbor East (just a few blocks away) absolutely kills me. I can get behind white bread pseudo-Mex when it's good, but it's barely edible. And yet a few blocks away, there's a vibrant Mexican neighborhood with some very worthy offerings that goes totally ignored by most -- the exception being Tortilleria Sinaloa which, while good, always seems to me like it's toning everything down just a notch so as to not scare off the Fell's Point crowd. In general, there's some good stuff here. For traveling Chicagoans, I haven't discovered anything that merits going out of your way, but if you're in the 'hood and feeling the need for tacos, you'll most likely have a good lunch. There are also a number of less divey places that I haven't tried (see: toddler) and I'm sure there's much more to be found, but for what I've had of the low-end, I'm happy to say it scratches the itch.

One of the cuisines that I've no doubt exist in Chicago but, nonetheless, completely slipped under my radar is Persian. As such, I approached with great interest a recent Charm City Hounds outing to try some of the same. My previous experience with Persian was limited to a dinner my ladylove and I shared at the widely known and respected LaLa Rokh while on a trip to Boston over five years ago. But this was in the pre-blogging days (for me, anyway), and due to the combination of time and lack of my own writing to refer to, I was left with only the vague memory of a cuisine that was quite exciting to me, embracing some of the Middle Eastern conventions with which I was familiar, but veering off into novel pairings and flavors. However novel, though, I wouldn't call my first experience with Persian surprising. As I believe has been discussed elsewhere on the board, it's an unfortunate habit of Americans to refer to any food produced within 2000 miles of Baghdad as "Middle Eastern" when that's about as useful and specific a term, from a culinary standpoint, as "European". Lebanese and Persian are, in my limited experience, about as similar as French and Italian -- probably less -- yet both routinely fall under the same blanket. Recognition of the true diversity of the region's foods is long overdue, and restaurants like Orchard Market & Cafe are exciting because of their ability to educate an ignorant public (among which I include myself) about the very much plural cuisines of the Middle East.

While the name Orchard Market & Cafe conjures up images of sandwich shops, it's actually an intimate little gem of a neighborhood restaurant, improbably tucked into a strip mall that's hidden behind a furniture store, a stone's throw from a dozen fast food and carryout pizza joints. As somebody who has a deep love for low profile ethnic eateries, I'm a firm believer in the underappreciated culinary potential of the nondescript strip mall. But it's rare to find such a place that's so downright warm and cozy. The incongruity stems from the restaurant's origins as an actual market and cafe, opened in the late '80s, that morphed into a full-service restaurant with the hiring of Iranian expatriate Nahid Vaezpour in 1990. Though the restaurant evolved, its location did not, and Vaezpour -- a widowed mother of 18 before joining Orchard -- now serves dishes that are both foreign and comforting, capturing the essence of the meals she'd prepared for her family while back in Iran. Our dinner was a preplanned affair, a rapid-fire succession of communal dishes that left us with fleeting tastes of a wide variety of unfamiliar foods. While meals like this are a wonderful way to get a sense of the cuisine in a fuzzy, delirious fashion, they're not conducive to the sort of analytical overthinking with which I typically approach my meals. Nonetheless, here's what little detail I can recall.



We started with the Haleem Bademjune, billed as "a dip of eggplant and beans with sour cream, garlic, walnuts and spices, similar to baba ganoush". Similar it was, and I think I would have identified it as such had I been blindfolded. And while a creamy, comforting expression of eggplant, it was very familiar to me and, as such, far less compelling than the dishes to follow. I did note, with disappointment, that the accompanying pita was rather dry and flat (in flavor -- in shape, a given). Some would call this picking nits, but a good dish deserves good bread, and this wasn't.



The second appetizer, however, was one of the highlights of the evening. The Eggplant & Artichoke arrived, a warm, melty mess, bound with a mild Bulgarian feta and swimming in a sauce laced with Dijon and dill, both pungent and very, very sweet. I suspect whole artichokes are not to be found in the kitchen, which is unfortunate, but right or wrong this didn't detract from my enjoyment of a strong-willed dish.



The third appetizer wasn't a troubled dish, per se, there just wasn't much to get excited about. The Mango Shrimp were sauced with a chutney that was built on onions and garlic and lightly spiced, but despite these additions it came across mostly as shrimp in a savory mango puree. The dish was inoffensive, but forgettable.



The Mushroom Zaban, on the other hand, may have been my favorite dish of the evening. It wasn't much to look at, but the curried poached veal tongue with onions and portobello mushrooms had a luscious, earthy richness that I loved. I am, admittedly, partial to braised meats, but this was a particularly fine specimen. The curry wasn't so much a primary ingredient as it was a light accent -- a faint whisper -- to lend a touch of brightness to the succulent, silken, not-quite-beefy intensity of the tongue. This was the kind of meltingly tender meat that you want to linger on your palate. It's a dish to make a believer of tongue skeptics.



The appetizers out of the way, we moved on to more substantial fare. The entrees opened with the Koobiedeh which was, like the Haleem Bademjune, very familiar to me. It was a ground beef mixture lightly seasoned, formed over skewers and grilled. It was then topped with sumac and served with rice. I enjoy simple grilled meats quite a bit, but I found this particular version a little mundane. It was tender, with a pleasing texture and a little bit of char, but it struck me as underseasoned. I think a little acid, most obviously lemon, might've been all that was necessary to wake it up. I considered requesting some, but by the time I was in a position to flag somebody down, we'd devoured it -- a testament to the fact that while less than great, it was still tasty.



The next entree had some interesting things going on, but felt like it didn't quite come together. The Chicken Abadan combined chicken with a token amount of shrimp and scallops, and covered them in an abundant tomato-based sauce with curry and saffron. The first problem was that the sauce just didn't feel balanced to me, as if all of the flavors were present but hadn't quite come together into that magical cohesive whole. And while chicken, scallops and shrimp have an affinity for each other, here the seafood felt more like an afterthought. And even if I set aside my boneless skinless chicken breast prejudice (is there a more boring, flavorless cut in the known meat universe?), despite being smothered in the sauce, the chicken didn't seem one with it. I wasn't in the kitchen and I don't know how it was prepared, but the feeling was that of a "take chicken breast, top with seafood, ladle sauce" preparation. This makes it sound awful, and it wasn't at all. There were interesting flavors and a good dish was in there somewhere. It just didn't fulfill its potential.



The Dried Plum Lamb I found frustrating, because while I enjoyed it a lot, it felt just barely incomplete. I love crossing that sweet/savory divide, and a sweet meat entree is one of the trickiest expressions of such. It's a risky proposition that often turns out poorly. In Persian cuisine, though? Old hat. It would seem they throw together meats and fruits with reckless abandon. Here, the lamb was stewed in a sauce made with tomatoes, pomegranate, lemon and dried plums, and paired with thick slabs of tender butternut squash. The butternut squash should have been the key. With pomegranate, lemon and plum, it was a very bright dish that needed grounding and the starchy but sweet vegetable almost brought it down to earth -- but not quite. Though delicious, it lacked a certain roundness of flavor that I think could have been achieved if the meaty intensity of the lamb had been developed a little more. But I still enjoyed it quite a bit, and a couple of people at our table declared it their favorite.



I had no such reservations, however, about the Duck Fesenjune. Not only was it a delicious, well-executed dish, but it was exactly the kind of unfamiliar but utterly compelling flavor profile I'd been hoping to try. Our duck leg was perfectly poached, moist and tender, with an orange flavor that was intense and sweet. The accompanying sauce, made with pomegranate and walnuts, is touted on the menu as a Persian classic. But what's classic to Persians, in this case, is new to me, and I loved it. There was nothing subtle about it, sweet and saucy and full-flavored, but this one came together in a way some of the other entrees didn't. This was also in the running for my favorite of the evening, and it's what I found most reminiscent of our meal at LaLa Rokh.



By this time the little fellow had had quite enough, so we quickly stuffed some desserts in our mouths and ran off. I remember a moist cake with sweet frosting, punctuated with pomegranate seeds and nuts that provided a lovely textural contrast in addition to their flavors. I'm not a fan of baklava that's drowning in honey, so it was nice to get a version that let the pastry and nuts share the stage. I would have liked to sit and savor them over some Persian tea or coffee, but it wasn't in the cards.

All in all, a lovely meal with a couple of exceptional dishes where even the misses were enjoyable, if flawed. I hate to keep coming back to LaLa Rokh, but at the moment that's my only basis of comparison when it comes to Persian. LaLa Rokh was very refined, with pure flavors and ethereal aromatics. It's clear that Orchard Market & Cafe comes from the same tradition, but here the food is hearty and comforting, more evocative of the kitchen table than the grand dining room. One gets the sense that Vaezpour is cooking for the restaurant in much the same manner that she did for her children back in Iran. Some dishes are more successful than others, but they're all welcoming, all prepared with love, and each a lesson in the flavors of a cuisine that demands and deserves to be considered an entity all its own.

Orchard Market & Cafe
www.orchardmarketandcafe.com
8815 Orchard Tree Ln.
Towson, MD 21286
410-339-7700

After taking Cathy2, Rene G, Josephine and a friend of theirs to what has become my very favorite spot in Baltimore this evening, I was reminded just how far behind I've fallen in keeping this thread up to date. So while I'm sure you'll hear more from them shortly, I thought I'd jump in and provide the background.

When I first moved to Baltimore, naturally one of the first things I did was to ping as many local food nerds as I could get my hands on -- what's great, what's not so great, what are the local specialties, what can't I miss, etc. We'd discuss crab cakes, pit beef, the strengths and weaknesses of various ethnic joints, but almost invariably our conversations would have the same coda.

"Don't bother with Chinese. It's terrible."

So universally shared was this opinion, and so dejected the tone in which it was delivered that it quickly became clear that great Chinese was the holy grail for the Baltimore food nerd: that thing they pined for, but had come to accept they'd never have.

And then we found it.

By "we", I mean me and my newly minted Baltimore food nerd friends. And "found" is perhaps giving us a little too much credit. A thread was started on the Baltimore/DC Chowhound board, asking if there was any Chinese in the Baltimore area worth having. One halfhearted recommendation after another was quickly shot down by others who were not so afraid of being critical. We had consensus. It didn't exist. But then deep in the thread, one poster -- a first time poster, no less -- mentioned that he and his wife had been eating at a little strip mall joint out in Odenton, about 20 minutes from the heart of the city, for the past year and they thought it was really good. It was called Grace Garden, and it was run by a couple from Hong Kong, and was mostly staying alive making kung pao chicken and sweet sour pork carryout for those stationed at Fort Meade across the street, but in addition to the Westernized menu, it had an extensive menu of Cantonese and Sichuan specialties that were quite excellent. Some of the dishes this poster (Kit, as we'd come to know him upon meeting him later) mentioned were clearly not your typical Chinese takeout fare, and a handful of us figured we'd better go check it out.

Over the next month, we probably ate there seven or eight times. Here's but a sample of what we had. All photos are of the click to enlarge variety.


Baby Bok Choy
The vegetables section of the menu lists but three dishes, all eggplant, because Chef Li prefers to offer whatever looks freshest when he does his shopping, or pull something seasonal out of their garden. It's to his credit that he puts the quality of his ingredients above the consistency of his menu. On our first visit, we were treated to some beautiful baby bok choy, served simply in a traditional Cantonese style, with a lightly seasoned glaze and a bit of salted fish for punch.


Fish Noodles
Here you see one of the smashing successes, the Fish Noodles. The thick, nubby noodles, made from ground fresh fish which is extruded into a simmering broth, have a lovely, delicate seafood flavor and a tender but firm and slightly spongy bite. However impressive the technique behind the noodles, however, their sauce was one of my first clues that Li really knows what he's doing, as its velvety, gingery warmth left this sucker for bold flavors completely engrossed in its subtlety. Accented with some Chinese greens, bits of fresh mushroom and slivers of Chinese sausage, this is quite simply one of my favorite Chinese dishes anywhere, and an absolute must have for a first visit. He also does an off-menu version that he calls Seven Treasure Fish Noodles, both in spicy and non-spicy varieties, but I think I prefer the thicker noodle and gentle richness of the regular menu version.


Golden Shrimp
Here you see the Golden shrimp, fried crispy with a salted egg yolk coating and a sprinkling of crispy fried garlic. Light and crispy shells lend a natural textural punch to the tender, sweet flesh inside. Be careful, the squirt from the head is volcanic. But don't wait, as this is one of those dishes that loses 50% of its awesomeness within three minutes of hitting the table. Sweet, salty, rich and garlicky all in one, this is an impressive shrimp preparation, expertly executed.


Sichuan Pork
The next dish down is one that makes me happy all over, as it's one of my regular eats in China. The Sichuan Pork is a belly cut that's thinly sliced and stir-fried with leeks, bell peppers and toban djan. It's an example of fat as art, the pork belly's rich flavor cut by the chiles' explosive heat and texturally accentuated by being singed to a crisp at the edges. Straightforward, bold and delicious.


Sichuan Pork Belly with Rice Powder

Sichuan Fish with Crispy Fried Bones
I lump the next two photos together because they show the same flavor profile applied to two proteins, one excellent, one outstanding. The Sichuan Steamed Pork with Rice Powder is, predictably, a more tender take on the pork belly, and while drifting more towards the unctuous end of the spectrum, it has that all-encompassing Sichuan boldness. I have a weakness for pork belly, but this is a particularly beautiful specimen. It's one of those dishes where I can't even begin to name everything that goes into it, but it's spicy, gingery and intense, and infused with the scent of the leaf in which it's steamed. The mix on top is made with a coarse rice powder, which also makes it as much a textural as a flavor experience. It's another of my very favorites that's only outdone by the fish version. Chef Li will take that same intense topping and apply it to fish. But what makes this dish remarkable is that after stripping the flesh from the fish, he flash fries the fins and bones, leaving them impossibly crisp and seasoned with a hot chile oil. A bite of the crisp bones along with the fish is an absolutely addictive combination.


Seafood with XO Sauce
Chef Li does his home proud with a very nice in-house XO sauce that's less fiery than some, but no slouch in the flavor department. The mix at Grace Garden includes shrimp, squid and scallops, and is further punched up with a bit of fresh green chile. Li's is less explosive and more subtle, which I appreciate. The sauce exhibits a mellow brand of spicy, if that makes any sense, and its sweetness draws out the natural sweetness of the accompanying fresh seafood.


Sichuan Fish Fillets
A considerably less subtle (though no less nuanced) take on spicy seafood is the Sichuan Fish Filets, which come swimming in an oily pool of the searing, numbing Sichuan combination of chiles and huajiao. While Chef Li's ma la isn't quite as balanced as some other Sichuan places I've tried in the states, it's still extremely good and I wouldn't hesitate to recommend it for a moment.


Duck Stuffed with Sticky Rice
I might get myself in trouble for mentioning this one. It's an off-menu item that is a ton of work for the Lis to prepare. But I just can't keep it from you guys, because it's a total show-stopper. If you're reading, Mei, forgive me! They first debone a duck, leaving the meat and skin completely intact, and then stuff it with a seasoned sticky rice mixture before steaming it whole. As the bird gently steams, the fat renders and flavors the sticky rice inside, which sucks up the essence of the duck that surrounds it. It's very, very lightly spiced -- five spice, perhaps? -- with lotus seeds and bamboo for texture, and chunks of sweet Chinese sausage. It's subtlety and restraint and respect for the duck and the rice all rolled into one, and it's the kind of hearty, tender, comforting dish that you completely melt into, not to mention one of the purest expressions of duck fat I've ever had anywhere. Shocking when you first sink into it, it's even more shocking if you stick any leftovers in the fridge and see what's congealed the next day. I cannot express my amazement at this dish, and I'm saddened that the short notice meant I wasn't able to share this one with the LTH crowd this weekend.


Peacock Chicken
Here's another that, regrettably, couldn't be done on short notice. I'm always amazed by how a great Sichuan meal can take the same five or six central ingredients -- chiles, Sichuan pepper, garlic, sesame, vinegar, ginger -- and create such a wide variety of dishes with them. The Peacock Chicken highlights Sichuan's cool and sweet (though no less fiery) side. The chicken is steamed and served cold, topped with a typical ma la sauce that turns up the sugar, vinegar and ginger. Though it's almost pure meat, it's a cool dish made refreshing by the heavy dose of vinegar, and it still has a nice kick -- perfect for summer evenings.


Three Treasures - Tongue, Tendon and Tripe
Here's one that will look familiar to devotees of Tony's version over at Lao Sze chuan. It's another cold dish and a perfect example of how altering the balance of the traditional ma la seasonings can completely change the character of a dish. This one, though vinegary, is pushed further back towards the chile end of the spectrum, and the sauce bathes thin slivers of tongue, tripe and tendon, which are in turn topped with chopped peanuts and scallions. In addition to its fiery intensity, the toothsome tendon, spongy tripe and crunchy peanuts exemplify the importance of textural contrast to so many Sichuan dishes. Though similar to Tony's in so many ways, this is less eartly and fiery and more sweet and vinegary. I couldn't say I prefer either. It's just wonderful to see two very different takes on what is essentially the same dish.


Cantonese Wok-Fried Quail
There isn't much meat on 'em, but quail hold many rewards for those who aren't shy to pick them up and gnaw away. The Cantonese Wok-Fried Quail are seasoned just enough to accentuate the sweet meat, and they sit in a light jus (if such a term can be applied to Chinese cookery) that only adds to their succulence when spooned over the top. It's a simple, no-frills dish that's a nice respite from the more typically saucy creations.


Tea Smoked Duck
Another dish that puts the focus on the fowl is the Smoke Tea Duck, which is similarly minimal but significantly more intense. An advance order nets you a whole duck with deep, lacquered skin that's completely infused with an intense, smoky flavor. Like the quail, it does just enough to accentuate the flavor of the bird without obscuring it. This is also near the top of my personal favorites list.


Braised Pork Belly with Mui Choy
My Chinese dining in the States is pretty much an endless quest for the kind of intensely sweet melts-into-nothingness on your tongue pork belly like the kind I have in China. Chef Li's Braised Pork Belly with Mui-Choy isn't quite there. It's not his fault -- we just don't have the pigs for it. But it's as good as I've had stateside, and it makes me exceptionally happy. The pork belly is sliced and braised along with mui-choy, a Chinese mustard green that's been salted and lightly pickled to provide a little sourness to cut the soy-based sauce that's surprisingly thin and does a wonderful job of adding needed sweetness without being cloying. Though it doesn't liquefy on the tongue, it's meltingly tender and may be my favorite pork dish at Grace Garden.


Taiwanese Style Fish
A dish that inspires some mixed emotions, but not enough to keep it off my list of favorites, is the Taiwanese Style Fish. There is nothing subtle about this dish. You have small chunks of fish, an abundance of ground pork, scallions, bell peppers and some kind of pickled cabbage that are stir-fried in a spicy, sweet sauce with plenty of dried chiles and cilantro stems. The reason I say I have mixed emotions is because while I like the texture of the little fried chunks of fish, the potency of everything surrounding them doesn't exactly put them in the spotlight. I find myself taking another bite and wondering if this is really a fish dish or a pork dish. Then I find myself taking another bite and just not caring. It's an explosively tasty dish and nitpicking in such a manner is probably missing the forest for the trees. I dig it, and that's all that matters.


Curry Beef Stew, Hong Kong Style
Here's a dish that I probably never would have tried if it weren't for the fact that Chef Li insisted, and I'm glad he did. Both from the description and my first glance, it looked like a very typical beef, potato and onion curry based on your typical canned Madras curry powder. And it was. But three or four bites into it, what struck me was that it was an unusually delicious version thereof. Its strength wasn't in the flavor. The flavor was very nice -- a very mild, comforting and lightly sweet stew that even the most spicy-averse could handle. But that's not uncommon. What struck me, rather, was its wonderfully silky, collagen-laden texture that was achieved, no doubt, by the fatty cuts of connective tissue that comprised half of the meat in the dish. Let's be clear. This is beef you could sip through a straw, floating in an unctuous, curried beefy goo. A massive turnoff for the typical Americanized crowd, but folks here would love this dish.

There's more. I have to stop somewhere. At any rate, Grace Garden IS the real deal. A tiny little hole in the wall with an incredible and extensive authentic menu, on the fringes of a city that had given up hope that they'd ever have such a place. And to make things even better, the folks who run the place -- Chun and Mei -- are just the sweetest people in the world. Take this place, plunk it down in the middle of Chicago, instant GNR. If we recognized restaurants outside of the Chicagoland area, I would have flown people out here to ensure it received the honor. But as it stood, we knew we needed to get the word out. So we did, working the local food boards, contacting some of the local press, making sure that this little diamond in the rough wasn't overlooked. About a month and a half later, the MSM finally caught on. The Washington Post was the first major publication to pick up on them, and they were followed by the Baltimore City Paper and finally the Baltimore Sun. Now, the place is busy all the time. Hardly anybody comes in to order kung pao chicken. The walls are filled with my photos of the food, and all of their sizable press clippings, not to mention a special commendation from the Maryland legislature. They've even added some nice tablecloths, and a church friend of theirs helps to wait tables and clean dishes. But it's still Mei and Chun holding down the fort. They're tired. They've been incredibly busy. But they're all smiles and excitement, thrilled that people are coming in not for the carryout Chinese standards, but for their food. Really, it's a picture perfect food nerd success story and those of us who got the word out feel honored to have been a part of it. Baltimore has some wonderful local foodstuffs, but when I leave this summer, Grace Garden is the place I'll miss most of all.

Dmnkly wrote:There's more. I have to stop somewhere. At any rate, Grace Garden IS the real deal. A tiny little hole in the wall with an incredible and extensive authentic menu, on the fringes of a city that had given up hope that they'd ever have such a place. And to make things even better, the folks who run the place -- Chun and Mei -- are just the sweetest people in the world. Take this place, plunk it down in the middle of Chicago, instant GNR. If we recognized restaurants outside of the Chicagoland area, I would have flown people out here to ensure it received the honor. But as it stood, we knew we needed to get the word out. So we did, working the local food boards, contacting some of the local press, making sure that this little diamond in the rough wasn't overlooked. About a month and a half later, the MSM finally caught on. The Washington Post was the first major publication to pick up on them, and they were followed by the Baltimore City Paper and finally the Baltimore Sun. Now, the place is busy all the time. Hardly anybody comes in to order kung pao chicken. The walls are filled with my photos of the food, and all of their sizable press clippings, not to mention a special commendation from the Maryland legislature. They've even added some nice tablecloths, and a church friend of theirs helps to wait tables and clean dishes. But it's still Mei and Chun holding down the fort. They're tired. They've been incredibly busy. But they're all smiles and excitement, thrilled that people are coming in not for the carryout Chinese standards, but for their food. Really, it's a picture perfect food nerd success story and those of us who got the word out feel honored to have been a part of it. Baltimore has some wonderful local foodstuffs, but when I leave this summer, Grace Garden is the place I'll miss most of all.

Dom's enthusiasm to this restaurant is just bursting. When I initially contact him, he suggested Lexington Market and a few other places. Dom then began to describe this wonderful Chinese restaurant between Washington and Baltimore, that we might want to visit. Dom cautioned with Chicago's great Chinese, it may not be the best use of time. However, I am a believer in following an enthusiastic recommendation.

We met Dom and friends for Chinese at their variant of a GNR, an unsung restaurant they put on the map. It is a Chinese place where they had two menus: American Chinese and Cantonese-Szechuan food. The military base across the street pretty much ordered the American CHinese. Someone in Dom's group discovered it, which was a relief because Chinese in their area wasn't very good. They returned 7x in two weeks, then began detailed write-ups, contacted dining critics and pretty much had the world descend on them. In an economic downturn, this restaurant's fortunes began to improve substantially. All the pictures on the walls are from Dom.

While we were there, we met a table populated by Dom's friends who were leaving. Plus several tables who came either from their postings ("I saw it in the internet!") or the press they helped generate. The owners are still walking on air that their preferred food is now in demand, too. They will also make some dishes with a two day or more advance notice: deboned duck stuffed with sticky rice studded with Chinese sausage et al, then steamed. Dom's friends said it was like eating duck cake with duck as the frosting.

I compared their championing of Grace Garden to sazerac's efforts on behalf of Katy's Noodles, though it was long mentioned by Jeff B. While this is our hobby, our enthusiastic response to their food can make a difference in their business. It really is something special for Katy's to open a second location. I can easily see this in Grace Garden's future, too. To have their business expanding in the middle of a recession is a tribute to Dom and his friend's enthusiasm, though it is grounded in a really great food. If the food didn't match their enthusiam, then all bets are off ... however the food truly is great!

Thanks again for a mighty fine meal recommendation and excellent company!

Regards,

i missed the beginnings of this thread. we've been to grace garden once or twice (and yes, thanks to dom's blogging of it)... i'm not sure i can add anything that he hasn't written exquisitely, but i'd have to say it's quite possibly better than anything i've had in chicago when it comes to actual non-americanized chinese cuisine... we never have the planning to call ahead (2 days?) for the smoked tea duck, but that's on the list. :/ ...it's an interesting place there if you like food you'll probably end up talking about it with someone else... there's a guy who was there the first time who "helps" them out, he brought us our food but doesn't actually work there(?) ... when we were leaving he came back from the kitchen with a decent sized to go container of curry for us to try later.

...faidley's ... i never thought to try the fish sandwich but that looks pretty damn good. their crab cakes and oysters were good, but after being called a "retard" by a staff member under his breath, i don't think i'll be back. (as far as good crab cakes, I heard a lot of raves about


i'm glad someone has taken up to finding better places to eat in the area.... there are a lot of unreliable sources out there, or maybe people just have lowered expectations. there are thousands of places in the DC/baltimore area, and they just don't do it the same there... just about much very place people rave about in DC has something big and disappointing in comparison to similar places here ...spent a lot of time in annapolis, and found only a small handful of places worth going to twice ... currently working the way through baltimore, where it seems like there's more interesting choices in general and if the food isn't always great, at least the service is often good

by the way, you want to find Dino in dc- not worth the long drive ,but if you're in DC, it's worth seeking out. good italian, very very nicely priced wine list.

dddane wrote:there's a guy who was there the first time who "helps" them out, he brought us our food but doesn't actually work there(?) ... when we were leaving he came back from the kitchen with a decent sized to go container of curry for us to try later.

I know exactly the guy you speak of. Dom said he is a neighbor of the owners who jumped in to help out once they got slammed. However, Dom also said they were the happiest people because finally they could cook the food they excelled at.

I have never had very much appreciation for the food culture of Baltimore until very recently. I'm sorry about the incident at Findleys's, though I cannot wait to walk through that market more carefully.

Too bad Dom is leaving for Boston soon. However, he did introduce me to some very nice people I hope to see again.

Regards,