In its three decades as a waterfront staple in Annapolis, Pusser’s Caribbean Grille developed a reputation for bringing the party—and, yes, the subsequent pain. When its lease expired in 2024, many feared it was the end of a legendary rum-soaked era. Turns out, it was the beginning of a new one.

Last summer, the restaurant and waterfront bar re-emerged, perfectly situated in Lighthouse Point along Canton’s waterfront. Rebranded Pusser’s Landing, it’s now serving island-inspired and Maryland-style fare, cold beer, and of course stiff drinks to customers who pine to feel transported to a warmer, sunnier, simpler place.

“We purposely [changed the name to] Pusser’s Landing because we do view it as a landing spot, whether you’re coming in off the water, or whether you’ve been at work all day,” says co-owner Jim Lepley, who started working at the restaurant in Annapolis as a busboy. “We see it as a hidden oasis on the water in Baltimore.”

Not visible from Boston Street, the restaurant sits in the marina on the Patapsco River. Customers can walk down a long outdoor ramp to reach the floating dock bar, which seats more than 100. Unlike the space’s previous occupant, Drift Bar, here patrons can belly up to that outdoor bar or grab a table or a spot along the rail overlooking the water.

The full food menu—which includes a solid burger made from a brisket, chuck, and short-rib blend, and a pit beef sandwich, complete with the requisite tiger sauce—is available outside as well.

But whether sitting inside or out, most people out here are here to drink, and the overwhelming favorite is the signature Painkiller. Made with Pusser’s rum, pineapple and orange juices, and cream of coconut, it’s served on the rocks with an orange slice and topped with nutmeg. It tastes like a citrusy piña colada, and can be ordered with either two-, three-, or four-parts rum.

“Regular, strong, and extra strong would be the best way to describe it,” Lepley says. “Being able to say, ‘I’ve had a bad day—I need a four,’ has endeared it to people.”

Inside, the large dining room includes the original long wooden bar from the Annapolis location. Former executive chef Jim Eriksen, a veteran of the Annapolis operation, shaped the regular menu to be heavy on Caribbean influences like mango salsa and jerk seasoning. We found those to be the strongest dishes.

New chef Colin Dixon nails the jerk tuna steak, a beautiful piece of fish prepared perfectly medium rare. The jerk seasoning provided just the right amount of kick. Pan-grilled herb grouper worked well with its mango corn salsa and balsamic glaze. The hardy and tasty jerk chicken and pineapple quesadilla appetizer could serve as an entrée.

The crab cake, as is often the case in Baltimore, was more controversial. Some in our party enjoyed the six-ounce cake, saying its seasonings elicited a unique flavor. Others thought it was oversalted and bland.

Numerous staff followed Pusser’s up the Chesapeake to its new location, and that loyalty shows. The service has been excellent every time we’ve visited. Future plans include delivery to boats in the marina (the restaurant now offers two hours of free docking for patrons).

As it settles into its new digs, all signs point to a peaceful, not painful landing for Pusser’s.

PUSSER’S LANDING 2780 Lighthouse Point E, 443- 869-2067. HOURS: Mon.-Wed. 3 p.m.-10 p.m., Thur. noon-10 p.m., Fri.-Sat. noon-11 p.m., Sun. noon-10 p.m. PRICES: Starters $15-20; salads $12-18; sandwiches $17-28; entrees $28-50.

Clarence Haskett is recognized the minute he walks into the bar. Granted, the bar is Section 771, across the street from Camden Yards, where, during baseball season, he’s usually the most celebrated personality off the field. Wearing his signature Orioles baseball hat with the brim flipped up, he’s not trying to be inconspicuous on this February night. Quite the contrary. Haskett, 67, makes no bones about it—he loves being Fancy Clancy.

Among the most well-known vendors in the country, Fancy Clancy, as he’s universally known, has been a beer-slinging superstar at Orioles games for 52 seasons. During the course of a home game, he’ll pose for some 40 selfies with fans, always with a genuine smile on his face. Some even pass on other vendors so they can buy their $15 brew from him. He’s been featured on NPR and ESPN. A Virginia-based microbrewery makes Fancy Clancy’s Pilsner, with his illustrated likeness on the can, bulging biceps and all.

Last fall, he worked his first wedding, running down the aisle in full vending uniform, slinging cold ones into the crowd of guests. Who knows—bachelor parties and bar mitzvahs could come next. But how did it happen?

It’s a charming Baltimore story of a man with an intense passion—for the work, yes, but more importantly, the people. Clarence Haskett grew up on the city’s west side and started vending at Memorial Stadium as a teenager in 1974. His first assignment was hawking caramel popcorn, sodas, hot dogs, and peanuts in the upper deck. Back then, he was happy making $50, more than enough to buy a sandwich to eat on the bus ride home.

But his hustle got him noticed. Eventually, he was moved to the more lucrative lower level and given any ballpark’s golden goose: beer.

“I started saying, ‘Two cold cans for two thirsty fans, Clancy’s here with more cold beer,’” says Haskett, a natural showman.

“TWO COLD CANS FOR TWO THIRSTY FANS, CLANCY’S HERE WITH MORE COLD BEER…”

His nickname evolved in segments. As a sprinter at Catonsville Community College, his teammates dubbed him Clancy, after another lightning-fast collegiate runner of the day. Fancy grew from his vending antics.

“In the early ’90s, we had to pour a beer out of the can into a cup,” he says. “Then I learned the technique where I was able to pour two beers into a cup at once. And for some reason, I tried to pour the beer behind my back. And that caught on…[Then one time], this guy walked past and said, ‘That’s pretty fancy, Clancy.’”

So are his statistics, printed on the back of his baseball card-style business cards. From 2004 to 2019, Haskett was the top-selling beer vendor at O’s games, also proudly noting that he ranked number one in sales at RFK Stadium in D.C., from 1986 to 1996, and led the vendor standings at University of Maryland football games from 1981 to 2002. He’s worked four Super Bowls, three Kentucky Derbies, and the Preakness a whopping 32 times.

His most memorable game came on Sept. 6, 1995. Turns out there were two epic records set at Camden Yards that night. As Cal Ripken surpassed Lou Gehrig for most consecutive games played, Haskett bested his own record, taking in $960, he says.

Clancy and Cal have something else in common: They’re both iron men. From 2005 to 2019, Haskett missed only seven games. He attributes that durability to his physical fitness, which is evident to anyone who has seen him sprint up and down the ballpark’s lower-level stairs while holding a bin filled with ice and up to 70 beers. He’s not sure how much it weighs.

“All I know is it gets lighter every sale,” he says.

Now retired from his “other” job with the Maryland Department of Transportation after 32 years, Haskett isn’t thinking about hanging up his bin. Fancy Clancy’s here to stay, which means so is his call that echoes throughout his usual Camden Yards real estate, sections 16 to 27.

“You want it fancy, buy it from Clancy!”

This article first appeared in our May 2026 issue. If you connected with it, consider becoming a print subscriber. 

There was a touch of grey among the clouds when we ducked into The Grateful Fed from the quiet side street on which the bar resides in South Baltimore. Although it looked like rain, the drops never materialized, and when we left, the sky was filled with sunshine.

Were we daydreaming? Hard to say, especially after a fun-filled evening that featured stiff drinks and solid food set to a non-stop soundtrack. Owners Sam Sunderland and John Leonard love improvisational rock, and in particular, the guitar licks and poetic lyrics of the Grateful Dead. 

Sunderland, 32, spent lots of time on the road following Dead & Company, the band’s most current iteration. When they opened this small, corner rowhome bar with a punny name in August 2024, they wanted to create a space where people could come for conversation, a cosmic escape, and good cocktails.  

“I like the creativity that comes with the Grateful Dead’s music,” Sunderland says. “Viewing that in a cocktail or sandwich space seemed kind of cool to me. It lends itself to exploring different flavors. The main thing was making a comfortable space people can’t wait to get back to. That’s what the summer tour is to me.” 

That vibe was conveyed from the second we walked in, saw the framed Dead posters on the wall, and heard a live version of the Allman Brothers Band’s instrumental “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” on the sound system.

“I’m playing the entire concert,” our bartender declared. Immediately, we could tell that there’s something a little out there here. 

The Grateful Fed isn’t satisfied to create a particular aesthetic and call it a day. Lots of thought has clearly gone into the menu. Alongside classic cocktails like a negroni and gimlet sit hybrids like a Screwball espresso martini, mezcal paloma, and watermelon jalapeño margarita.

The signature drink, called a Future Ball, is a relic from SoBo Market, which previously occupied the space. Two rocks glasses appear before you—one is basically an Old-Fashioned with a large spherical ice cube infused with sugar, syrups, an orange peel, and a cherry. When you polish that off, pour the contents of the other, neat whiskey and sweet vermouth, over the starting-to-melt-but-still-largely-intact cube and voila! A second drink, essentially a Manhattan, is created.

If that’s too far out for you, there’s a nice selection of craft beers, seltzers, and a few wines and mocktails available.  

Uncommon appetizers dot the menu. Roasted jalapeños stuffed with a mix of cheeses. Cubed grapefruit-infused guac topped with Tajiín. Best of all were the Puff, Puff Pastries (get it?), which are flaky and filled with short rib or veggies. With apologies to the soups, tacos (including birria), and flatbreads on the menu, sandwiches are the star here. Sunderland is an enthusiast.  

“I always joke with my wife that the saddest part of a sandwich is the first bite of the second half because you know it’s gone after that,” he says. 

Standouts (in flavor and moniker) include Uncle John’s Ham, Reuben & Cherise, and Werewolves of London (broil, that is). Of course, there’s also a grilled cheese, a concert parking lot staple.   

Along with a few communal tables in the back and the main bar, there is outside seating along the side alley.

Regardless of what kind of music you listen to or lifestyle you lead, The Grateful Fed brings a welcome chill environment to a neighborhood that is often partying at full speed. We’ve found that trips here are, as it says on the sign out front, always a hoot.  

Sketches of two giants of comedy stare down from the front wall at the stage of Magoobys Joke House. Richard Pryor has a wry smile on his face, like he’s amused slightly. The look on George Carlin’s mug is a bit more quizzical, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

For the past 15 years, the Timonium comedy club has hosted stand-ups of all ilk, from heavyweights like Tracy Morgan, Nate Bargatze, and Richard Lewis to up-and comers and down-and-outers. Through it all, brother-owners Andrew and Marc Unger (no relation to this writer) have remained dedicated to providing a top-notch venue for the full spectrum of fans and performers of an art form that Andrew says has no equal.

“It’s just [the comic] and a mic and a different audience each night and you never know exactly how the crowd’s going to respond,” he says. “I can’t think of anything harder in entertainment.”

Andrew was in the investment banking business when, seeking a professional change, he and his brother, Marc, a stand-up comic and co-creator of the web series Thespian, took over an existing comedy club in 2007 beneath The Bowman restaurant in Parkville. Marc had performed there and thought it had the potential to be improved. Within a couple of years, the Ungers transformed it from a place attracting 50 or so people a week to one that drew upward of 400.

In 2010, they moved it to what was formerly a dinner theater on Deereco Road and, three years later, added the Wits End Saloon, an attached whiskey-focused bar that hosts open-mics on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Now, their 300-seat club is among the largest in the region.

“You want to motivate people to put some pants on and come out to see live comedy,” says Andrew, pictured above. “Make it a special night for them. Great service.  Good food. Provide an environment that is conducive to good stand-up comedy. The more intimate, the better connection the comedian has to the audience.”

Each month, the club hosts a new-talent showcase. Winners advance to a larger competition in which Magoobys crowns its New Comedian of the Year. It may soundlike a silly title, but it can provide a significant boost to a comedian’s career. Past victors include Tires stars Shane Gillis and Baltimore’s own Stavros Halkias (whose photo was recently stolen from the club’s wall-of-fame in the lobby).

Besides, silly is exactly what the Ungers were going for when they came up with the name Magoobys. A combination of Andrew’s nicknames for his two oldest c hildren, what it lacks in gravitas it makes up for with inanity.

“We knew comics would make fun of it, and they do, which is great,” he says. “It’s kind of ridiculous that you have to go work at a place called Magoobys Joke House.”

Pryor and Carlin would no doubt agree.

For more than a century, DiPasquale’s Italian Market served as an anchor in its thin slice of Highlandtown. When the beloved business moved about a mile away to Brewers Hill in 2021, the empty building left a noticeable void in the neighborhood.

Now, 3700 Gough Street is once again brimming with life—but you might not know it if you’re not an insider.

Fifteen hundred square feet of the building that once housed the market is now home to Forno, a speakeasy serving pizza, small plates, cocktails, beer, and wine. Save for a chalkboard near the front door, the exterior looks unchanged, and once you enter the building you might think you’re in the wrong place.

The front of the house gives the impression that the business moved out yesterday. There’s no host stand or employee to greet you. Other than a neon sign that says Forno—Italian for “oven”—and refrigerators filled with wine, the place looks abandoned. But behind a red curtain is a charming dining room with a smattering of tables and a few couches.

Forno is owned by the DiPasquale family, which won’t come as a surprise to anyone who’s eaten here. The food, like most everything at the 110 year-old market (now found in the bottom floor of the Porter apartment building as well as two other locations), is fresh, authentic, and outstanding.

Small plates include arancini, meatballs, and porchetta sliders, which are served on a pillowy roll with melted provolone and a spicy tomato jam that takes them to the next level. Fried artichokes atop a cacio pepe sauce were terrific. After finishing them off we kept the plate to dip our pizza crust in the remaining sauce.

We’ll get to the pizza in a moment but first let’s talk pasta. Amalfi Coast gnocchi was a special when we visited in June. The dumplings were soft, and the herbed pesto sauce was so good we kept the plate to dip our pizza crust in the remains. See a pattern here?

Three types of tasconi, basically an Italian pocket sandwich, are available as well. Their pizza dough is cooked in the pizza oven then stuffed with cold fillings—capicola, soppressata, roasted ham, provolone, peppers, and arugula for the OG variety.

But pizzas are the star here. The same imported oven that churned out pies for DiPasquale’s dining room back in the day continues to serve admirably. The crust is a perfect combination of doughy and charred, and the toppings are first-rate. The Margherita and the Scooch—hot soppressata, capicola, roasted peppers, prima donna cheese, peppadews—are among the most popular, but we opted for the Goat, with garlic, mozzarella, arugula, Calabrian hot honey, pistachio dust, and, of course, goat cheese. We’ve never tasted that combination of ingredients, and they made each bite more interesting than the last.

Between the no-fuss fare and a cocktail list heavy on Italian favorites like wine, spritzes and negronis, it’s no wonder that 3700 Gough Street has quickly become a neighborhood gathering spot. Again.

FORNO: 3700 Gough St., Highlandtown, 410-617-0455. HOURS: Thurs. 4 p.m.-10 p.m., Fri.-Sat. 4 p.m.-11 p.m., Sun. 4 p.m.-9 p.m. PRICES: Small plates: $9-16; salads: $9-11; tasconi: $16-17; pizzas: $14-20.

[Editor’s Note 11/17/25: Last week, one day after Veteran’s Day, Bobby LaPin announced that he will be running for State Senate in District 46, against incumbent Senate President Bill Ferguson, in June’s Democratic Primary. The following interview was reported in advance of the announcement, in September 2025.]

Despite growing up in Baltimore, Bobby LaPin’s love of boating was born in one of the driest places on Earth.

The Army veteran, now known locally as Captain Bobby, was working in Iraq as a contractor in 2015 when he was struck by a crazy idea at the most inopportune of times.

“There was an attack on the base that I was on, and I’m sitting in one of these bunkers, looking through this magazine called Cruising World, and I said to myself, ‘If I make it out of Iraq, I’m going to buy a boat and live on it,” says the 46-year-old Upper Fells resident today.

He did, and he did. A decade later, LaPin and his wife, Alicia, run Boat Baltimore, a private sailboat charter on their 1985 Hunter Legend 45, SAEDA. The 47-foot vessel has two cabins, a living room, a galley, and an office, but most of the people who climb aboard for 90-minute sunset cruises prefer to lounge above deck.

Now, LaPin may be known as much for his social media presence as his nautical chops. His Instagram page, @SailLocal, has more than 74,000 followers. He posts irreverent and amusing material on everything from the history of Baltimore to his foray into accidental farming.

In fact, he’s become somewhat of a citizen journalist, delving into street preservation in Fells Point, the prevalence of urban deer populations, and incidents like the June oil spill in the harbor. 

But the online world, of course, is not entirely picturesque. When he posted a video criticizing President Trump’s plan to spend $45 million on a military parade, he was besieged by trolls and lost more than a thousand followers. Yet he was undeterred.

“I’m very open about being a non-MAGA veteran,” says LaPin. “We got a lot of business from that.”   

Since 2022, Boat Baltimore has differentiated itself with affordable sales and even programs like “Elope on a Boat.” LaPin, who became an ordained minister online, has married countless couples on the open water.

“When I was a kid growing up in Baltimore, I remember fishing with my grandpa and looking at these sailboats go by and thinking to myself, ‘That’s for rich people,’” he says. “My whole goal is to make sailing more accessible to everyone.”

When did you get your captain’s license?
In 2022, when everybody was still drinking because of COVID, I wanted to make it productive, and I went and got my captain’s license. It was just going to be a side thing, but we got so popular with Instagram that by 2023, I quit my job and now run the boat business full-time.

What’s the meaning behind the name of your boat, SAEDA?
It stands for Subversion and Espionage Directed Against the United States Army. When I was a counterintelligence agent in the Army, one of the programs that we administered was this thing called SAEDA. Basically, we would give briefings to soldiers who were either going abroad, going on deployment, coming back from deployment, going out for the weekend, whatever. It was, “Hey, if you see anything that could be suspicious, people messing with the equipment, if you hear your fellow soldier saying that they like Putin more than America, come and let us know.”

When I renamed the boat, I realized the only reason I have a boat is because of that short time I did in Iraq as a contractor. And the only reason I got that job was because of the skillset the Army gave me. So I wanted to honor the Army by naming the boat something special. I had to call the Army to get approval to use that name. It’s the only boat in the entire world named SAEDA.

Do you still live aboard her?
No. When I met my wife, she said I couldn’t do that anymore. So we live in Upper Fells, and the boat is down in Baltimore Peninsula. We’re the only locally owned and operated charter business in Baltimore.

When did you dive into social media?
I posted a video in 2023. It was real simple. I’m an old dude, I didn’t know how social media worked, right? So in the very beginning, I would just have videos and say, “Hey, book a cruise.” Eventually, it kind of went into me showing off the sunset and different parts of the city. In this one video, I said, “A lot of people don’t believe when they see our videos that this is Baltimore, but you can see behind me Fort McHenry, the city of Baltimore, and look at that sunset.”

That first video, I think, went over 100,000 views. And we got a lot of hate comments. “Is that a body in the water?” “This isn’t in Baltimore, this is the county—you’re faking.” And I started clapping back really hard. And from there, man, our Instagram just sort of grew quickly, organically.

Where do you sail and what do people do while they’re on the boat?
Well, it’s a sailboat, so we kind of just go wherever the wind takes us. We start from Baltimore Peninsula at the Port Covington Marina. And we generally sail out the Middle Branch [River] toward the Key Bridge, or what’s left of it. If the wind is blowing out from the [Chesapeake] Bay, we can make a run down into the Inner Harbor. But most of our cruises are in the outer harbor because it’s cooler out there. Mostly, as soon as you pull the sails out, people go up front in those adjustable chairs with their drinks and their charcuterie. That’s normally what they want to do—just chill and relax and just get away from life for a little bit.

How did “Elope on a Boat” start?
My wife and I met online during COVID, like a lot of couples did. And we decided quickly that we loved each other, and we wanted to get married. So instead of having a wedding where the old people might die because of COVID, we eloped. And when we started the business, somebody reached out to us and asked if they could get married on the boat. And since I was ordained, I just randomly said, “Yeah.” My wife’s idea was to have a program called “Elope on a Boat.” I marry two to three couples per week now. I’ve married over 50 couples in the city of Baltimore on my boat in the harbor, which I love.

Do people ever propose on the boat?
Yeah. That’s almost a near weekly thing. I would say the number one thing that happens on our boat are anniversaries and birthdays. Number two would be girls’ night out. Almost once a day, there’s a cruise with a bunch of ladies trying to get away. The third most popular thing is engagements. And the fourth is elopements.

What’s so magical about being on a boat? Why do people love it so much?
We meet most people in the parking lot at the marina. [In the summer,] we’re all hot. And they’ve just gone through traffic to get there. And then we get on the boat, we pull off the sails, and when we get into the open harbor, the temperature drops 15 degrees and there’s a constant breeze. People just smile. They get into their music. They bob their heads. They sip on their drinks. And at the end of the day, it’s like they just forget about life for a while. They find the beauty of it all. I don’t know, man. I think at the end of the day, they just find peace, and they find it here in Baltimore.

From the outside, Federal Hill’s Pizza Harbor looks pretty much like every other run-of-the-mill neighborhood pizza joint in every other neighborhood in the city. Its name, as nondescript as they come, also belies what’s inside.

The first clue that your assumptions are wrong appears when you walk through the front door and notice the far wall, painted yellow and blue. Art from the village of Petrykivka, in the Dnipro region of eastern Ukraine, hangs from it, and on another is a falcon carved in the shape of a Ukrainian trident.

Take a seat at the bar and behind it you’ll see up to 10 bottles of Ukrainian beer, which is about 10 more than we’ve seen in any other Baltimore bar. The drink menu includes a Kyiv Mule, and, along with the standard menu of pizza, sandwiches, and wings, comes another with stuffed cabbage, pierogies, and borscht.

A little more than a year ago, co-owner Myroslava Semerey took Pizza Harbor, once a part of the HomeSlyce franchise, independent. Her daughter, Iryna, joined the business and the two decided to add flavors from their native Ukraine to the operation.

“Not many restaurants in the area are able to present our Ukrainian cuisine, so people do not have to wait for the festivals in the summertime,” Iryna says. “They can come here anytime to have something special, homemade Ukrainian food.”

Something special indeed. While the pizzas and the like are solid, it’s Myroslava’s homemade Ukrainian dishes that truly shine.

Holubtsi is cabbage stuffed with rice and ground veal, beef, and pork. “Because it’s very time-consuming, [my mom] would always make it on Saturday evenings for Sunday lunch and dinner,” Iryna says. “I cannot eat any other stuffed cabbage; it is the best I’ve ever had.” We concur.

Chebureky is essentially a version of an empanada, a large, deep-fried pocket of dough filled with ground beef. “That is our version of fast food,” Iryna says.

Pierogies are better known around these parts, and Myroslava’s are among the best we’ve eaten. The secret? “The dough has to be soft and pliable,” Iryna says. “My mom makes it with potatoes, and she adds some cheese as well.”

The majority of Pizza Harbor’s customers are not Ukrainians, rather people from the neighborhood who have stumbled onto this gem and become hooked. In the last six months, sales from the Ukrainian menu have surpassed that of the regular one, Iryna says.

What’s more, she says, she and her family have received lots of moral support from customers who understand that, because of Russia’s ongoing invasion of her native country, it’s a trying time for Ukrainians everywhere.

“We have family members who have been killed in the war,” Iryna says. “For us, we are filled with worry every day because you never know what to expect. We are living once again through the history that’s repeating itself because Ukraine went through these turmoil times before.”

Half a world away, the Semereys are doing their part, through food, to ensure that no one forgets the plight—and the beauty—of Ukraine.

PIZZA HARBOR: 2 E. Wells St., Federal Hill, 443-230-4240 HOURS: Tue.-Wed. 11 a.m.-9 p.m.; Thur. 11 a.m.-10 p.m.; Fri.-Sat. 11 a.m.-11 p.m.; Sun. 11 a.m.-9 p.m. PRICES: Appetizers: $7-15; salads: $10-15;
sandwiches: $12-17; entrees: $27-47; pizzas: $11-32; Ukrainian dishes: $8-15.

That a crate of records sits outside Wax Atlas in Hamilton is not a surprise. The place is, after all, a record shop. But the fact that everything inside the beat-up bin—“Property of City of Boulder” printed on the side—is free to anyone who wants it is the first sign that this place rocks to its own rhythm.

So does its owner, Andy Phillips, a self-described thrifter who can’t stand to see things go to waste. In 2017, he got into buying donated bulk items from places like Goodwill and the Salvation Army. That eventually led to Phillips, a music lover and former music critic, buying a storage unit full of more than 50,000 records, sight unseen. He started selling them online in 2018; Wax Atlas has been at its current location on Harford Road in the heart of Hamilton for about a year.

“I’d always been into vinyl, but I’m just a music person in general,” he says at the shop while the stereo plays a compilation CD of new wave and punk bands from New Zealand. “We certainly get some of the super nerd stuff, but we want to be very populist in our appeal because music is for everybody.”

With a giant stuffed Garfield holding a banjo in one front window, and a skeleton wearing a Slayer shirt in another, the store stocks about 10,000 records, along with CDs, DVDs, cassette tapes, books, T-shirts, and other merch for sale. Phillips is especially proud of the $1 section in the back corner, which attracts everyone from hardcore audiophiles to local kids.

Along with high-end albums from the likes of the Beatles and Led Zeppelin, he also sells funk, jazz, metal, and just about every other genre. You probably won’t find a bold-name band in the free crate out front (Perry Como and the Lawrence of Arabia soundtrack were there for the taking when we visited in April), but there is something for everyone.

“I’d rather get you in the room with a bunch of different types of people than create a space where only the punks or indie snobs hang out,” he says. “I think, especially right now, people need to be in physical spaces.”

That philosophy has led to the latest chapter in Wax Atlas’ evolution. Each month, the store hosts concerts by local bands. There’s a small stage and audio system in the back, and the record racks are on wheels, so they can be moved to create space for the audience.

“We’re running it kind of like an old-school DIY collective,” says Phillips, who gives cover fees (usually about $10 each) to the performers. “The point of this is to create an authentic community space—and keep shit out of the trash.”

Smoking is very much permitted in Jesse Dortzbach’s workplace. In the studio that he built himself behind his Towson home, smoke wafts from the tip of a cigar that he also made with his own two tattooed hands.

A Baltimore County art teacher, Dortzbach has been hand-rolling cigars as a side gig since 2021. The craft fits perfectly with his artistic mind and handy spirit—not to mention his unfettered love for smoking the cigars.

“This started purely out of curiosity and an interest in saving money,” says Dortzbach, who smokes multiple stogies a day. “When I first started learning, I’d be out here rolling until two, three in the morning. It’s really zen.”

Dortzbach, 45, has been puffing for more than two decades. He’s come a long way since he fired up his first one, accidentally inhaled it, and then threw up.

Now, he’s proprietor of Dortzbach Cigars, a one-man operation that sells custom-made, hand-rolled cigars and offers classes. Over the course of four hours, groups of up to seven people learn how to roll their own while smoking and enjoying a hand-crafted Old-Fashioned (Dortzbach’s beverage of choice while he works).

The magic of making a good cigar, he says, is in the blend of tobacco. He buys his through a wholesaler that orders from as far away as Africa and as close as Maryland. Roughly 8 to 16 leaves comprise the three parts—filler, binder, and wrapper—of a cigar. It takes him about 10 minutes to roll one, using just his hands and a mold, where it sits for another 30 to 45 minutes.

The turnaround time for customers (minimum order of four, starting at $12 each, purchased via his website) is two to three weeks.

“A cigar might taste really good, but if it doesn’t burn well, you’re not likely to smoke the whole thing,” he says. “But a cigar that burns well, most people will smoke it all the way down. Finding that balance is a key component.”

The fun, he stresses to his students, is in the process. “Some guys figure it out pretty quick,” he says. “Some guys, their cigars look pretty terrible. They end up just chilling out, smoking, watching their buddies do it. But the cool thing about cigar culture is that it’s a unifying experience. It really doesn’t matter what your background is. I’ve had everyone from MTA drivers to corporate lawyers to people like me, teachers. They come together because they love the fellowship of it.”

Dortzbach is a connoisseur—he uses words like citrus, grassy, and chocolate to describe cigar flavors—but he’s always learning.

For every three cigars he rolls, two meet his standard to sell. The third he fires up, sits back, and enjoys.

Vessel, the cocktail bar in ever-expanding Baltimore Peninsula that opened in October, isn’t the easiest place to find. But once you walk through the lobby of the Roost, a hotel-apartment building hybrid, and take the elevator to the third floor and enter, its proprietors hope that you’ll feel like you’ve been whisked away on vacation.

“We like to describe it as a nautical escape,” says Brookes Decker, director of operations for Method Co., which operates Vessel. “The cocktail program is a riff on tiki drinks. The design of the bar itself is almost like inside of a yacht, with mahogany woods, banners, and flags. It’s a little bit of escapism, in a classical loungey kind of way.”

That suspension of disbelief is much easier in warmer weather, when a large patio opens overlooking the Patapsco River, Under Armour’s new arena-like headquarters, and a pool that’s for Roost guests and residents. An open garage door transforms the bar from half a rectangle to a full one, and people can drink under the sun or in cabanas.

Still, the space is exceedingly comfortable in the colder months, as well. When we visited on a weekday night in February, we warmed our toes from a sofa in front of a fireplace.

Other couches, plush chairs and a longer, conference-room sized table were occupied by small groups or solo patrons, some of whom were working on their computers. The spacious interior feels more hotel-like or a supersized coffee shop than a classic bar, but there are some more standard cocktail tables and stools at the bar.

The drinks we tried were on point. The Mint Condition, vodka-based with pineapple, benedictine, lime, and just the right amount of mint, was bright both aesthetically and taste-wise. A Pinwheel, with Reposado tequila, Pamplemousse (a grapefruit liqueur), and lime was strong but smooth. The most popular drink is the Pain Management, a rum-based concoction with pineapple, orange juice, and coconut cream that’s a take on a traditional Pain Killer.

Vessel’s food offerings, which frequently change, are minimal, designed more for snacking than meals.

“The theme is that you can get things from any port along your journey,” Decker says. “The charcuterie board would be if you pulled into a port in Italy. We have hummus so if you’re pulling into a port in the Mediterranean. We’ve had tinned fish, we’ve had crab cakes, shrimp here and there.”

During our visit, the smell of Thai curry wings permeated the place. Our charcuterie board was excellent, with a variety of cheeses, meats, pickles, marinated olives and bread that was more than enough to sate two appetites.

Vessel has hosted several events, including live jazz, deejays on Friday nights, trivia, and salsa nights on the patio. There’s a pool table, board games, and few TVs to entertain people, if they need entertaining. For some, a book and a nice cocktail or glass of wine will suffice.

In many ways it’s a classic third place, a term coined to describe places outside of the home (the first place) and the workplace (the second place) where people go. A vessel, if you will, for connecting with others, the community, or in this case, your inner vacationing self.

Locals Only oozes attitude. And the Federal Hill bar is unapologetic about it.

Start with the décor inside the space that previously housed Pretty Awesome Live Music (P.A.L.M.) and Social Pub & Pie. “Pizza is my Porno” screams one sign. On another wall hangs a portrait of the late Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg with several free-floating hands flipping the bird in the background. On another is a neon sign with a slice of pizza and the declaration “I licked it so it’s mine.” Message received.

“We weren’t trying to overthink it,” Andrew Wheeler told Baltimore when he opened the pizza-focused bar in 2023. “I’ve been in the neighborhood for 15 years now, and I understand the clientele. They don’t want something that’s stuck-up or too fancy. They want cost-effective offerings that are fun, and a playful vibe to go with that.”

That playfulness permeates every facet of the place. The cocktail menu trends toward the sweet and offers several drinks not seen elsewhere.

Frosty’s Kinky Coco is made with Deep Eddy vodka, hot chocolate, and heavy cream and garnished with whipped cream, marshmallows, and chocolate sauce. It’s liquid dessert for grown-ups. Mint & Mischief is a peppermint espresso martini, and the one we drank was perfectly prepared. You don’t see many cocktails with Fireball in them these days, but the Fire N Cider uses the cinnamon whiskey to create a warming drink that especially satisfies on a chilly night.

A few wines and seltzers are available, as is a selection of canned beers. Orange, lemon, lime, and grapefruit crushes are made with freshly squeezed fruit and they’re just $5 during happy hour.

Pizza is the focus of the food menu and Locals Only does it right. Creative combinations, fresh toppings, and a slightly pillowy crust make for solid pies. The Chimi Neutron was the pizza of the week when we visited in December. Topped with shaved rib-eye, red onions, peppers, and a garlic-bread crust, it was the secret ingredient—chimichurri sauce that made it great.

The Cheesus Christ features truffle ricotta, mozzarella, Parm, hot honey, hazelnuts, and herbs. The Golden Arches is a pie with ground beef, mac sauce, shredded lettuce, American cheese, pickles, red onion, and sesame seeds. Ronald McDonald would surely approve.

On the “Not Pizza” section of the menu, a plate of fries topped with Parmesan, truffle oil, garlic, and herbs stood out. Wings, burgers, and the Naughty Nugget, a chicken sandwich with honey mustard, also are available.

The clientele at Locals Only skews younger. On weekend nights the place can get packed. There’s a deejay spinning tunes, the tables downstairs are moved aside to make room for dancing, and the upstairs often opens for those who want to eat.

Despite a sign on the back wall proclaiming, “Locals Only—F*ck Off,” the bartenders we encountered couldn’t have been more friendly. They, like us, know that we’re all in on the joke.

In the 1970s, no baseball team in the American League won more games than the Baltimore Orioles. The names of the players from that era—Brooks, Boog, Eddie–still resonate throughout the city today, but one holds a special place in the hearts of fans: Earl.

Although Earl Weaver stood just 5-foot-7, the team’s legendarily mercurial manager was a giant in the game. The foul-mouthed, heavy-drinking, deep-thinking Weaver was an innovator, among the first managers to embrace technology as a precursor to today’s analytics.

Journalist John W. Miller grew up in Belgium, but when he visited relatives in Maryland, they’d take him to O’s games and shower him with stories of the team’s glory days–especially those of its fiery manager.

“I was blown away by the pageantry, the excitement, all the drunk guys yelling,” says Miller, 47, who went on to play baseball at Mount St. Mary’s University and work as a Wall Street Journal reporter. “It was very exciting. I spent 10 months of the year in Belgium speaking French. This was my American side blasting out. I fell in love with baseball.”

When Weaver died in 2013 at 82, Miller wrote his obituary for the Journal. That led to his new book, an  encompassing and enlightening examination of one of baseball’s most successful and colorful managers.

Baltimoreans like to think of Weaver as one of our own. But he was actually from St. Louis. How did it shape him?
Deeply. Pre World War II, it was a culture of taverns, barbershops, and corner stores. Earl would play a high-school game and then walk or take the trolley to Sportsman’s Park and watch afternoon baseball. He was raised in large part by an uncle who was a bookie. Earl was like a street hustler in a way: smart and clever.

Many diehard Oriole fans might not even know that he was a minor-league second baseman. What kind of player was he?
He signed out of high school and he had four really good minor-league seasons. He was on an upward progression and made one major league spring training [with the St. Louis Cardinals] in 1952…Weaver had great hands and a great batting eye. He walked a lot, he didn’t strike out a lot, and he hit the ball hard. I don’t think he would have been a great big leaguer, but he wouldn’t have embarrassed himself.

When he became a minor league manager and then took over the Orioles in 1968, what was his relationship with his Black players?
I know from talking to people in the family that his vocabulary and manner before he got to the Major Leagues was racist. He used the n-word. In the minors, he lived in the South, and he behaved like people around him. When he got to the Major Leagues, he changed.

He really needed to win over Frank Robinson. And he did. He brokered a deal so Robinson could start managing in Puerto Rico in the winter and then campaigned for him to be hired as Major League Baseball’s first Black manager. Ken Singleton told me that he loved [Weaver]. Eddie Murray loved him. He had a way of respecting people for being fully human that touched Black players. The capacity for this guy to change is an incredible part of his story. In his own memoir, he says, “I evolved.”

He was ejected from an average of six to eight games per season. Was this just theatrics, or did he have a real anger management problem?
In the minors, he had such a bad temper that he once charged an entire dugout by himself. The opposing team beat him up and broke his arm. He had a temper that he often couldn’t control. He came to realize that [arguing with the umpires] was a way of applying pressure that was strategic. It pressured the umpires to make calls that favored the Orioles, but it also deflected pressure from his own players.

When they had a losing streak, he would start getting ejected more because it was a way of blowing off steam for the team and of getting the fans’ attention away from the way the Orioles were playing. There’s a third element, which is that he realized the crowds loved it, and it brought people to the ballpark.

You manage a high-school varsity baseball team in Pittsburgh. How much do you channel Earl Weaver when you coach?
I think Earl Weaver’s simple approach to baseball is really helpful for high-school players. He believed in throwing the ball over the plate and winning battles by changing speeds and throwing your best pitch. The way he saw baseball was that there’s a few things you have to do, and everything else is bullshit. Throw strikes. Draw walks. Put pressure on the defense. He saw baseball as common sense. So yeah, I feel like his spirit is whispering in my ear sometimes.

Seeking respite on election night before the results started rolling in, we canvassed for a happy hour spot with top-notch drinks, excellent food, and, most importantly, no TVs. The winner: Cosima, the beautiful Sicilian restaurant in Hampden that recently revamped its menu in hopes of making itself a more attractive candidate for all.

With its location inside an old sailcloth factory in historic Mill No. 1, Cosima feels like an oasis, removed from the hustle and bustle of the city. Owner Judith Golding and concept director Donna Crivello have maintained it as a fine-dining staple since it opened in 2016, but in October it pivoted to add more Italian street food and affordable pizzas and pasta dishes. The new philosophy works especially well at its lovely, large, U shaped bar that faces an open kitchen.

Cocktails here always have been, and continue to be, outstanding. The night we visited, beverage director Aaron Simons was behind the bar. He was a wealth of knowledge and one-liners; when we asked if a certain pasta dish was a small plate, he said, “Every plate is a small plate if you believe in yourself.”

We started with an Arancina, the restaurant’s signature take on an Old-Fashioned. Made with Buffalo Trace bourbon, Amaro Sibilla, Luxardo Maraschino liqueur and served with an orange peel, it’s a smooth drink that works before or after a meal. The Il Focolare, on the other hand, is like dessert in a glass. It’s a combination of Baltimore Spirits’ 1904 apple brandy, Aperol, Bigallet China-China Amer, lemon juice, and apple brandy brulée. Perfect for a chilly fall evening.

For round two we leaned on Simons’ expertise. He recommended the Il Fumatore, a mezcal-based cocktail he accurately described as being pleasingly smoky and tart.

Cosima’s happy hour deals are among the best in town. From 4 to 7 p.m. Tuesdays through Saturdays (that’s right, weekends are included too) at the bar, the Arancina is just $8 (it’s regularly $15). There are $5 Negronis and Spritzes, $7 select glasses of wine, and a high-quality selection of $5 draft beers (including local favorites like Brewer’s Art Resurrection, Monument City 51 Rye, and Diamondback Green Machine).

We ordered arancini and a bowl of fried olives from the street food section of the menu to go with our drinks. Both were nice complements. Tuesday is pasta night, which means half off all pasta dishes. We went with the eggplant ragu, a hearty helping with tomatoes, onion, fennel, raisins, capers, and olives. Contrary to Simons’ quip, this plate was almost too big for even two of us to finish. Wednesdays, bottles of wine are half off, and Thursdays all pizzas are $10. (We’re partial to the Semplice, with rustic tomato sauce, fresh mozzarella, pecorino, roasted cherry tomatoes, and basil.)

Shifting courses is never an easy thing for a restaurant that’s been around as long—and been as respected—as Cosima. But if the early returns are an indication, Cosima’s future will be as successful as its past.

When Bethany Pace and Hillary Livingston were each going through a divorce, like many who have experienced this dissolution of a marriage, they felt failure, shame, and sadness.

But in one way, they were lucky: They had each other. The two friends shared handwritten notes and exchanged books. Pace still wears a bracelet bearing the words “you can do hard things” that Livingston gave her back then.

“Without each other, it would have taken us a lot longer to reach the point where we are now: liking this version of ourselves,” says Pace, pictured left, above.

One night in Bel Air, where they both live, Pace was sitting in her car in a Safeway parking lot, talking on the phone to Livingston, pictured right, who was doing the same outside a Walgreens. An idea to start a support group was hatched, and it’s since become their business: Sincerely, Divorced.

“We’re very passionate about the mission to disrupt the narrative of failure and isolation that exists around divorce, and a key to that has been positive reframing,” says Pace. “Once that construct is eliminated, I think divorce is this process of becoming who we really were meant to be. We got to do that together, which is rare.”

When they held their first online seminar in November 2023, Pace and Livingston were hoping that at least one person would attend—and that’s exactly how many people did. But soon meetups at coffee shops, happy hours, and yoga classes attracted a loyal following, including more than 56,000 people on Instagram.

They’re not licensed counselors—the two met as staff at Towson University—but having survived what Pace calls “the second most stressful life transition after the death of a loved one,” they feel they have plenty to offer the people they work with.

“Demographically, we’re different,” says Pace. She’s 51, has two daughters, aged 20 and 14, and was married for 22 years. Livingston is 35 and her kids are 7 and 2; she was pregnant with her youngest when her six-year marriage unraveled.

“What’s unique is that our group is inclusive of all ages, races, genders, relationship types,” says Pace. “It’s our hearts that connect through this human experience.”

While most participants are women, men are welcome as well. In fact, roughly 35 percent of their social media followers identify as men. Part of their offerings—most of which are free—includes sending these followers hand-written notes of encouragement, and they’ve mailed them as far as Australia, India, and the United Kingdom.

“We’re trying to help people arrive at the juncture where [divorce] is an opportunity, it’s not a failure, it’s not the end of everything,” Livingston says. “You have this unique opportunity to start fresh. Your best days are still ahead of you.”

There’s a lot that competes for your attention when you enter Facci, the year-old Italian restaurant on the ground floor of the Inner Harbor high-rise, 414 Light Street.

There’s a lively bar, big enough to comfortably accommodate both people sipping a drink and those eating a full meal. Behind a glass partition, there’s a cook rolling homemade pasta, a not-so-subtle signal that you’re about to indulge in high quality, fresh dishes.

But truth be told, most people can’t take their eyes off Sophia Loren.

A giant photo of the then-young actress printed on wallpaper looms over the dining room, her red dress and décolletage impossible to miss. For the restaurant’s owner, Gino Palma, it’s a point of pride that she was born in the same city as him, Pozzuoli.

It was from there that Palma emigrated without his family to the U.S. at the age of 19—he had little money and no knowledge of English. He worked 15-to-17-hour days at Italian restaurants in Pennsylvania, Virginia, and eventually Maryland, doing everything from cleaning floors to washing dishes. Slowly, he began to work his way up the ladder.

Palma, 48, has come a long way. Last March he opened his third Facci. Like the others in Laurel and Ellicott City, the Baltimore location presents a lively, modern, approachable version of food from his—and Loren’s—homeland.

“Italian food is very simple,” he says. “You can eat Italian food every day. The main thing is great ingredients. We have the tomatoes and the mozzarella from Naples. You can do something so simple but so delicious that it’s unbelievable.”

Facci should be categorized as elevated dining, not fine dining. When we visited in December, we saw tourists, families with young kids, couples, and singles eating and drinking. We started with a Figgin Peachy, a refreshing combination of fig vodka, prosecco, peach purée, and fresh lime juice. We then moved on to a glass of the well-balanced sangria. With a list of 375 labels, wine is a major feature here as well.

Appetizers can be substantial and the stuffed eggplant we tried was no exception. Served piping hot with a blend of three cheeses, it was rich, fulfilling—and filling. The Aruguletta salad, which includes strawberries, sliced pears, roasted hazelnuts, and shaved Parmigiano-Reggiano topped with a lemon aioli dressing, was fresh and crisp. It certainly was enough to share.

Pizzas and pastas are the primary focus of the menu. Pies cook for roughly 90 seconds in the wood-fired oven. We loved the Genova Pesto, a pesto-based pizza with grilled chick- en, roasted tomatoes, roasted pine nuts, and smoked mozzarella. (Gluten-free pizza and cauliflower crust are available as well.) The dough is terrific, and predictably the pizzas are best enjoyed right out of the restaurant’s oven.

A plate of Seafood Marbella was the most decadent dish we tried. Shrimp, scallops, and crab in a creamy Parmesan sauce mixed with fettuccine made for a tasty and heavy dinner. The Gnocchi Caprese was slightly disappointing. The potato dumplings were on the tough side, and the marinara sauce lacked pop. The classic dish of chicken marsala was executed perfectly, with a complex sauce and juicy chicken topped with mushrooms and onions. Comfort food at its core.

Palma takes great pride in not only his food (executive chef Nicola Morosini heads the three Facci kitchens) but also the design of his restaurants, which he does on his own. Here he had a large space to work with (the restaurant has a capacity of 160 and includes outdoor seating when the weather cooperates), thus the photo of Loren that stands approximately 15 feet high and 10 feet wide.

The name Facci comes from Palma’s wife, Pilar, who is from Peru. “She wanted to be able to communicate with my family, therefore began an intense Italian course,” the menu explains. “One day while practicing Italian with me, she said la tua facci but meant to say la tua faccia, Italian for your face. When I heard facci instead of faccia I started laughing and thought it was cute. Ever since that day I called her Facci.”

Today, nearly three decades after he left Italy, Palma has a wife of 24 years, two children and, now, three restaurants. He’s living the American dream.

“I’m a guy who came to America with no money, no family, no English,” he says. “I see all these people having fun; it makes me feel so good.”

FACCI: 414 Light St., Inner Harbor, 443-835- 2789. HOURS: Sun.-Thur. 11 a.m.-10 p.m., Fri.-Sat. 11 a.m.-11 p.m. PRICES: Appetizers $16-27; salads $13-16; pastas $24-35; pizzas $20-23; entrees $28-46.

Kechy Pizza Co. wants the world to know its ambitions. Its catchy name means “goat” in Turkish, but here it’s about the acronym, not the animal. We’re not ready to crown it the Greatest of All Time just yet, but we can confirm that it’s producing some of the tastiest pies we’ve tried downtown, where it opened in February on the ground floor of an apartment building at the corner of Redwood and Calvert streets.

The key is the crust. It’s made using fresh high-gluten flour dough, olive oil, and vegan butter, and after six minutes in a state-of-the-art granite stone oven it emerges with a surprising blend of exterior crispness and interior chewiness.

Topping combinations are a point of pride for co-owner Dogan Salis, formerly a partner in HomeSlyce. For example, the Bougie features roasted garlic oil, mozzarella, Croatian figs, walnuts, prosciutto crudo, and a drizzled balsamic reduction.

“When it comes to pizza, almost everything has been tried, but this is one of the unique items,” says Salis, a native of Turkey. “It’s sweet and salty and people really like it.”

We’re among them. Another we were impressed by is the Hot Cluck. We weren’t sure what to expect from the curious combination of brined chicken in hot sauce, chopped scallions, roasted portabellas, and fontina cheese with a ranch cream sauce, but somehow it worked. Another, more mainstream favorite is the Kechy’s Eggplant, with tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, and roasted peppers joining the main star. The freshness of the veggies shines and meshes nicely with the richness of the goat cheese and mozzarella.

Everything (except the French fries) is made from scratch, Salis says, including the sauce made with pureed tomatoes and basil. That care is evident throughout the menu. Sandwiches are packed with meats and served on bread that is baked fresh daily. It too goes through that oven, giving it a slight crunch. (The kitchen has no fryer or grill.) Some Mediterranean-style dishes can be found among the appetizers, including lovely, lightly flaky filo pastry triangles filled with spinach.

Opening downtown is not for the faint of heart. Many office buildings remain empty and parking seems to be a perpetual issue for all business in the area. But both times we visited, the vibrant dining room was filled. Salis used recycled materials like concrete, metal, and wood during construction, and the walls have images of goats along with nods to Maryland created by students, Salis says.

There’s a full bar that draws nice crowds for happy hour and weekends when events are happening downtown. Salis and his partners opened another Kechy in Westminster in December, and they have grand plans to grow the brand. But this downtown location will always be their favorite kid.

KECHY PIZZA CO.: 207 E. Redwood St., downtown. HOURS: Sun.-Thur. 11 a.m.-10 p.m., Fri.-Sat. 11 a.m.-11 p.m. PRICES: Starters $6.99-12.99; salads $9.50-11.50; sandwiches $12.95-15.95; pizzas $15.95-25.50.

It’s a rare jewel of a bar that can give you a hangover on Friday night and help cure it on Saturday morning. Mama Koko’s is that kind of jewel. A coffee shop that serves breakfast and lunch by day, it transforms into a cocktail bar with outstanding drinks and small plates Wednesday through Saturday nights. We love it in all its forms.

Housed in the historic James E. Hooper House in Old Goucher, the setting of Mama Koko’s is as alluring as its food and drink. Built in 1886, the mansion retains an old-world charm. Climb the steps through the front door and into the foyer and you’ll find a large wooden fireplace and piano.

There is a bevy of rooms in which to hang out. On the main level, there are some high-top tables and a bar that serves draft cocktails. Other rooms have couches where larger groups can congregate. There’s outdoor seating in the back, and another bar that serves hand-mixed specialty cocktails. The upper levels house artist studios, pop-up stores, gallery space, and more. Feel free to bring your drink and wander throughout.

The concept, general manager Angola Selassie told us in August, shortly after it opened, comes from his mother, Kokahvah Zauditu-Selassie.

“One day I’m inside her kitchen, and I take a look around and see Star Wars collectibles, vintage coffee posters, references to New Orleans, stacks of books, an ancestral shrine, a bar cart—and I thought, we should theme [Mama Koko’s] after our house and the hospitality my mother gives,” he said.

The eclectic decor hints at a fascinating menu that includes breakfast smoothies like the Green Gangsta (apple, peach, pineapple, mango, spinach, wheatgrass, spirulina, and ginger), and lunch items like Cajun shrimp and grits. But when we visited on a bustling Friday night in October, the focus was on the cleverly named cocktails like Pharaoh Dance and Cruel Summer.

We started with a Perfect Crime, a combination of mezcal, velvet falernum, China-China, tamarind, and grapefruit. Each specialty cocktail is ranked on a scale of refreshing to spirited and comforting to adventurous, and this one accurately graded toward refreshing and adventurous. It was slightly but not overwhelmingly smokey, with a hint of orange.

Next, we tried a Noble Ember, a draft cocktail that’s Mama Koko’s take on an Old-Fashioned. Hibiscus, vanilla and orange bitters, and lemon and orange oils give the drink a tangier flavor than its traditional brethren. Beer, wine, cider, and mead also are available, and people in all the rooms seemed be enjoying the full array of offerings.

Nine bar bites, including fried plantains, smoked collard greens, and Liberian meatballs, incorporate flavors from the Caribbean, New Orleans, West Africa, and French cuisine. A plate of Poisson Boule—fried red snapper balls with a spicy peri peri sauce—was excellent.

A bowl of rice and beans also hit the spot. The menu says they’re “Ms. Jackson’s original recipe…there’s a story here, just ask.” Although we didn’t get a chance to, we will when we return. And we’ll definitely return—on a Friday night and Saturday morning.

Like many of the best dishes at Yebo Kitchen, the new restaurant in Old Goucher, chef Sammy Davis’ shrimp and grits are engineered with unapologetic decadence, a trait that’s found throughout the Southern-Asian fusion-inspired menu. Thick, rich, and delicious, the dish will delight your soul, if not your scale.

Davis earned his cooking chops in Atlanta and at upscale chains like Roy’s and Nobu before landing on the Food Network’s Chopped. In May, he opened Yebo Kitchen in the former home of Church, the ill-fated cocktail bar that crashed and burned (figuratively) in 2023.

Here, he’s exorcised those demons and opened a restaurant with upbeat, welcoming vibes. Organ pipes hanging from the ceiling over the bar are the only remnants of the previous occupant. A small lounge greets visitors through the main entrance, and there is outdoor seating in the front and a dining room in the back. The music is loud, service is friendly but not overly formal, and a welcoming feeling permeates the place.

The centerpiece of the space is the open kitchen, where guests once could watch Davis do his thing. But over the summer he suffered a heart attack. It’s not certain when he will return, but for now, his nephew, sous chef Chris Davis, runs the kitchen, adhering closely to his uncle’s recipes and methods.

Yebo hasn’t missed a beat. During our visits in the fall, we started with cocktails. The maple Old-Fashioned included the requisite bourbon and bitters, along with maple syrup and a cinnamon stick. Like many things here, the melding of sweet and bold worked nicely. There are a host of mocktails as well, and the mango-ginger lemonade crush was quite refreshing. A small happy hour menu (available from 5 to 7 p.m. weekdays at the bar) includes grilled chicken wings with copious amounts of jerk seasoning. They were excellent on their own, yet got even better when dunked into a wasabi-ranch sauce.

The regular menu features several small plates, including standout red curry Thai basil mussels with a rich, coconutty sauce. Crab egg rolls, Chinese ribs, and fried shrimp and dragon fruit exemplify the restaurant’s fusion concept.

“I wanted to give people the Asian influence, but with a twist of Creole,” Sammy Davis says over the phone. “We take influence from Louisiana and places like that and [combine] it with the Japanese techniques.”

That philosophy is evident in the entrees as well. The honey jerk lamb chops, for example, are coated with plenty of the seasoning—which gave our lips a tingle—yet the taste of the meat remained juicy and tender.

The lobster pasta arrived with copious amounts of Cajun cream sauce and truffle oil on the rigatoni. Each bite felt like a mini meal in its own right—and that’s before we even dove into the large piece of fried lobster that topped the pasta. The dish is served with a purple orchid and the lobster tail shell, which make for a lovely presentation, but the award for showiest plating goes to the crab and shrimp fried rice. A tower of Dungeness crab legs shoots toward the sky, inevitably attracting eyeballs from nearby diners.

The restaurant’s calling card remains those shrimp and grits, which include chunks of andouille sausage and tomato. (Grits with salmon are available as well.) Davis says he’s been called the “King of Brunch,” and a few forkfuls of grits tell why.

“We use the [city of] Charleston technique, which is where it was first invented,” he says. “We don’t use water. We don’t even cook it in milk. We cook it in heavy cream. That’s where you get the richness from. You want grits to taste just like mashed potatoes; you want that creaminess texture. The way that’s achieved is through cream and cheese.”

Be forewarned: Not much at Yebo Kitchen is light. That’s particularly true of the sides, which include lobster mashed potatoes, fried mini corn, fried rice, herb fried potatoes, and fried green beans. Many of them are terrific, including the green beans that are flash-fried for less than a minute.

“American cooking is based more upon recipes,” Davis says. “The Japanese, once you learn their technique, you can take that technique and apply it to any genre of cuisine.”

In Zulu, “yebo” means “yes,” which is the answer we’ve given to several questions we’ve been posed since our visits to the restaurant. Should we take a break from counting calories when we eat here? Is the food worth those calories? And most importantly, will we be going back?

YEBO KITCHEN: 2219 Maryland Ave., Old Goucher, 443-900-4891. HOURS: Mon. and Thur. 5-10 p.m., Fri. 5-11 p.m., Sat. 11 a.m.-3 p.m. and 5-11 p.m., Sun. 11 a.m.-6 p.m. PRICES: Soup and salad $12-14; tapas $10-26; mains $28-55; sides $7-13.

Unlike most speakeasys, Order of the Ace isn’t hard to find. Connected to The Ruxton, the Atlas Restaurant Group’s swanky new Harbor East steakhouse, it fancies itself a “secret society” where “mysteries unfold.” But it need not manufacture a backstory; it is without question a cocktail bar worth seeking out.

The intimate bar and lounge serves some of the most creatively conceived drinks in the city. The menu’s signature cocktails are divided into four categories based on price, ranging from $20 to $36 (with one outlier we’ll get to later).

The libations stem from the mind of Andrew Nichols, Atlas’ head of mixology. “A lot of cocktail bars nowadays focus on the flavors that they’re putting together in a drink first and then find spirits that will work well with those flavors,” he says. “We wanted to take the opposite approach, so we picked out the spirits, then designed around those.”

Among our favorites is the popular Eyes Wide Shut, Nichols’ riff on a paloma. Made with an additive-free Mexican tequila called El Tesoro blanco, grapefruit and lime juices, green peppercorn, Thai basil, and pandan, a plan native to Southeast Asia, it has a pleasingly earthy flavor.

Many Paths Up the Mountain is an incredible combination of Takamine koji-fermented whiskey, Mugi shochu, Madeira (a fortified wine), Wagyu, yuzu, ginger, and black garlic. The drink, which pairs well with Wagyu sliders, one of a few small bites on the menu, is served in a beautiful glass with an image of Mt. Fuji in the base that is handmade by Kimura, a Japanese company.

At the peak of the menu, both literally and figuratively, sits the Holy Grail, a $72 jewel made with 50-year-old Jacky Navarre cognac. Nichols worked on it for months.

“There’s a transformation that happens in really old cognac,” Nichols says. “[At first] you might get chocolatey notes.

As it progresses, you start to have flavors that are more complex. I get passion fruit in this particular bottle “We took the spirit and surrounded it by small measures of ingredients that shared those flavors,” he continues, “and combined it with an old oloroso sherry, lychee liqueur, and then two infusions, one of Osmanthus flowers as well as Lapsang souchong,” a Chinese black tea smoked with pine.

Two of us split one and we’re here to say that if any drink can be worth $72, this is it. The notes of tea are evident, as is the smooth warmness of the cognac. Each sip produces a different, subtle flavor.

There may not be a more stylish place to drink in the city. Designer Patrick Sutton created an alluring yet understated feel. Tables surround a piano in the middle of the room making watching, not just listening to the jazz that’s performed every night especially pleasurable. The highlights of the décor are large portraits of an eclectic mix of luminaries, including Billie Holiday, Albert Einstein, and Frank Sinatra painted by local artist Beth-Ann Wilson.

Their faces are vibrant, and they seem to be looking out of their frames as if to say, “Mind if I join you for a cocktail?”