When Lindsay Willey was just beginning her career as assistant sommelier at Cinghiale, she had to fake it till she made it. With some 350 bottles and 40 glasses on the Harbor East restaurant’s wine list when it first opened in 2007, it boasted one of the most extensive exclusively Italian wine programs in Maryland.

“A lot of times when a guest would ask about a particular bottle, I would literally run in the office to look something up,” admits Willey, who was 28 at the time. “I’m not good at lying, I’m not good at schmoozing—I needed to be able to be honest about it.”

Now, some 18 years later, she’s the wine director of Charleston—Cindy Wolf’s famed Low Country restaurant that’s just a stone’s throw from Cinghiale—where she has complete command of the restaurant’s 7,000-strong inventory, one that includes a diverse range of important growing regions across the world, from the Southern Rhône Valley to Burgundy and Champagne.

In addition, she oversees the wine programs for the newly formed Tony Foreman+Co., whose properties include Cinghiale, The Milton Inn, Petit Louis Bistro, Johnny’s, and The Duchess. In total, she’s responsible for handling a staggering 20,000-plus bottles among the six cellars. She’s a bona fide expert now, but the 46-year-old veteran has maintained the same refreshing humility as the day she started.

As she gives a tour of Charleston’s 55-degree wine cellar—really just a tightly crowded room off the restaurant’s kitchen with wine organized numerically—her deep cellar knowledge about vintners, their prized products, and potential pairings is impressive. She pulls a random bottle—bin 2127—off the shelf and rattles off the tasting notes.

“This is a 2021 Châteauneuf-du-Pape,” she says, cradling the bottle in both hands. “It’s a current release from Clos des Pape; we had a great visit there last March. It leans more red fruit, but with a lot of floral and herbaceous notes.”

She’s just getting started. “It’s not uncommon to have lavender and rosemary and sage growing near the vineyards, so it can pick up some of those aromatics in the wine,” she continues. “That’s why it’s perfect for this time of year when chef does things with eggplant and tomatoes and herbs and black olives. It marries nicely with those Mediterranean flavors.”

Charleston has long been both a local and national dining darling, thanks to its peerless owner-chef Cindy Wolf, the well-curated wine list, and hospitality that comes from the heart. And there are awards galore to prove it—in a small, alley-like room behind the bar, and out of public view, an entire section is wallpapered with awards and nods that have poured in ever since Wolf and her then-business partner, Tony Foreman, opened the restaurant in 1997. (Wolf became the sole owner in Dec. 2024.) And yet, there is one award that has been elusive.

While Wolf has been nominated for Best Chef Mid-Atlantic nine times (the restaurant has garnered 24 nods in total), she has never won—earning her the nickname of the “Susan Lucci of chefs.” Lucci, famously, was nominated for 19 Daytime Emmys before she won on her 20th try. Wolf and Charleston didn’t have to wait quite that long to get culinary gold. In June, Charleston won the James Beard Award for Outstanding Wine and Other Beverages.

The medallion, slung on a simple satin ribbon and framed in silver leaf, hangs proudly inside the restaurant’s foyer. It’s very much a shared award: Willey shaped the cellar—and sommeliers and staff moved the bottles from cellar to table. But it’s Wolf’s daily changing seasonal menu, complete with 20 different pairings for each dish, that’s the inspiration behind Willey’s work.

When the restaurant was named a semi-finalist for its wine program last January, Willey was quietly excited. By April, when Charleston was named a finalist, her anticipation grew. “I was definitely hoping,” she admits, “but I was cautious, because I thought, ‘There’s no way.’ And then chef was like, ‘We’re going to the awards ceremony in Chicago!’” recalls Willey, sounding like a little kid. “And I got excited.”

WOLF’S DAILY CHANGING MENU IS THE INSPIRATION BEHIND WILLEY’S WORK.

Once seated at the awards ceremony, Willey’s partner, Patrick Weber, who used to work in event production, tried reading the tea leaves. The trio was seated on the end of a row, something he saw as a good sign.

“When we sat down, Patrick was like, ‘This is interesting,’” she recalls. “He said, ‘All the speakers are usually seated on the aisle because that way they don’t have to go through other people,’ But even then, I was like, ‘It’s probably just a coincidence.’”

It was not. When the restaurant’s name was called, Wolf and Willey—who says she let out a Beavis and Butt-Head laugh—stood up and embraced, then headed toward the stage at the Lyric Opera, where, at long last, they accepted the award, known as the Oscars of the food world.

At the podium, Wolf portrayed their partnership. “It is a joy to have a som who knows your cooking, understands your cooking, and knows how to pair—it’s the best thing you can ask for as a chef,” Wolf recalls saying to the crowds.

Willey never set out to be a certified sommelier. Growing up in a ramshackle 1800s home in Garrett County on some 30 acres, there were plenty of places for her, along with three siblings and various farm animals, to roam. It was a happy childhood, filled with family and good food. Her parents primed her palate. “My dad, Morris, was a really good cook; my mom, Pam, was a wonderful baker,” she says, “and we were always making jam in the summer.”

Her father’s signature dish was roast chicken with cippolini onions. He kept a vegetable garden. Her mother made strawberry-rhubarb pie. Wine was something that appeared on the table at special occasions. “At Christmas, if we had tenderloin, my mom would have a Cab or something like that out, but there wasn’t a big emphasis on wine.”

In her teen years, Willey wasn’t yet sure of her future. She earned a scholarship to attend college at North Carolina State to be a pulp and paper engineer, because it was the path of least resistance. “There was a big paper mill in Western Maryland,” she says, “and they liked to promote people to have careers in math and science. But after one semester I was like, ‘I cannot be a pulp and paper person.’ It was going to be a really dirty job. I love paper. I was like, ‘I want to be on the happy side of paper!’”

From there, she headed back to Maryland to Frostburg State, her parents’ alma mater, majoring in graphic design. And she worked at an Italian restaurant part-time, where she did wine tastings for the first time. “I loved food, and I loved the restaurant business,” she recalls. “I loved learning about things and talking with the guests. It helped me learn to talk to people as an adult, because I was always a little bit introverted, but I didn’t think I could make a career of it. I always thought, ‘I’ll be a server, I’ll make some money, and then I have to get my grown-up job.’”

At 22, after graduation in 2001, she moved to Mount Vernon for her “adult job,” working for Agora Publishing on newsletter design—and then came the light-bulb moment. “After six years, I needed to hit the reset button,” she says. “My dad had terminal cancer in 2007, and he passed away in 2008. It was eye-opening. Not to be corny, but life is short—so, I took that leap. I thought, ‘He was only 56 when he died—I want to find something that makes me happy.’”

On a lark, in 2007, she interviewed for a part-time job at Foreman’s Harbor East wine shop, Bin 604 Wine Sellers. But during the interview, Foreman saw something special in her and decided she was destined for bigger things.

“When we met, I recall that she had this curiosity about wine,” says Foreman. “I thought, ‘This is a person I want to teach.’ She had a lovely spirit, and I was impressed by her—we just vibed immediately.”

Willey started as a server at Cinghiale, Foreman’s recently opened Italian enoteca/osteria. But within a few months, she graduated from server to assistant dining room manager and assistant som. “She was exceptionally organized, a good taster, and paid attention,” says Foreman.

The massive wine list was daunting, but Willey was a dedicated student. “I committed myself to wholeheartedly learning that list so I could talk intelligently about the wine,” she says. “I kept this big file and would add tasting notes. I have a good way of connecting my senses to memory—I was like a sponge.”

Her strong sense of smell also helped sharpen her palate, the key, she says, to being a som. “I’ve always noticed smells and have often been transported by them—like some fruity perfume of a lip balm as a kid or picking berries in the summer,” she says. “I have a sensory curiosity that makes wine tasting engaging and challenging. If you aren’t interested in tuning in to smell and taste, then wine tasting is hard.”

The first time she really grew to appreciate wine was during the tasting of a 1997 Barolo in 2007. “I remember seeing the color of it—it almost looked like iced tea,” she says. “I didn’t even know that wine could taste like this, look like this, age like this—I was captivated.”

The following year, a wine trip with Foreman and other staffers to Northern Italy furthered her education and fueled her newfound passion—and there have been many trips since to Italy and other wine-growing regions, including ones to France and Spain.

“Seeing the vineyards, and meeting the people and understanding the processes and all the variables that go into it, was amazing,” she says. “The fact that you could make something that was somewhat consistent from year to year and the dedication to it boggled my mind.”

“I’VE ALWAYS NOTICED SMELLS AND HAVE OFTEN BEEN TRANSPORTED BY THEM—IF YOU AREN’T INTERESTED IN TUNING INTO SMELL AND TASTE, THEN WINE TASTING IS HARD.”

As a young woman in a mostly male-dominated field, she occasionally encounters sexism and ageism, though overall, she says, “I haven’t found it to be too frustrating.”

Still, there’ve been times when she’s been tested. “There was a guest who came in regularly to Cinghiale,” she says. “He either hated me or he had a crush on me. He would say things like, ‘Would you describe this wine as herbal or floral?’ And I’d be like, ‘Well, I don’t really think either.’ He’d be like, ‘Oh, okay, good. Because I read  about it and it’s neither’—he would try to trick me.”

Of course, as a female chef, Wolf can relate. “I’m a woman in a male-dominated field and she is, too,” says Wolf. “But it doesn’t matter if she’s a woman or a man, she’s just really good at what she does.”

On a late summer day, Willey, who lives in Medfield with her partner, Patrick, and a rescue cat named Momo, meets the morning wearing a white cotton top and bright green pants. Green, which she wore to the Beards, is officially her lucky color. It’s also the color of her eyes, which stand out next to a mane of dark hair that settles just past her shoulders.

The work starts early at Charleston and Tony Foreman+Co. As wine director, Willey handles all the details and logistics of the restaurants, working with vendors, tracking inventory, ensuring wine gets delivered, updating and printing the wine lists (the happy side of paper, after all), working wine dinners, and spending time with staff to demystify wine. She even teaches them the intricacies and the art of opening a bottle at the table, everything from keeping the cork quiet by easing it out of the bottle slowly to always keeping the label facing the customer to decanting along the side of the decanter so “it doesn’t look like a science experiment,” she says. “It contributes to the overall feeling of being in the restaurant.”

Willey also decides what makes its way onto any one list, always considering if the wine presents properly. “I ask, ‘Is this what the wine is supposed to taste like?’” she says. “For example, if it’s 100-percent Nebbiolo, I’m looking for certain characteristics—usually some sort of rose, floral quality, usually cooler, darker fruit with some sort of anise, tarry taste, not incredibly heavy on the tannins, very aromatic—it might be really tasty but not what I’m looking for. And then I ask myself if the price is fair.”

Her responsibilities at Charleston, where she eventually started working part-time in 2010, are particularly daunting given Wolf’s daily rotating menu—with each menu item accompanied by suggested pairings. It’s those pairings—curated to complement the menu—she believes, that clinched the award.

“I don’t know what put us over the top,” says Willey, “but I think that maybe this award was focused on the pairings. What consistently sets Charleston apart is the number of options you have when you dine here. We have 20-some wines that are going to be paired with any offering on a given day. I have never seen a restaurant offer the number of choices and flexibility that we have. I don’t know if somebody noticed that this particular year, but I definitely think that makes it very special.”

As she stands near the entrance of the restaurant showing off the Beard, she beams. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she says. “I had it with me for three days—I put it next to my pillow and slept with it. But it really belongs to the restaurant. I wanted the staff to look at it every day and be reminded of the great work they’re doing.”

Still, the down-to-earth wine director is proud of her part.“I’ll never forget my place in this,” she says. “That’s etched in my brain—I had my time with him.”

For many years, Richard Gorelick explored the workings of Baltimore restaurants, writing food reviews for The Baltimore Sun and other publications. After taking a break, he’s back in the business—this time on the other side of the restaurant world as a host at Foraged in Station North.

“My job is to manage the people coming in and to make sure that they’re seated in a way that doesn’t tax the kitchen too much,” Gorelick says. “It’s fun. It’s like playing Jenga, switching tables and trying to make sure individual servers aren’t overwhelmed.”

Gorelick, who has been at the restaurant since 2021, when it relocated from Hampden to its new location, likes being part of the front of house.

“It’s a great fit for me,” he says. “I really like it there. It’s what I imagined. The front of house works as support for the kitchen.”

In restaurant lingo, the front of house includes the parts of a restaurant that a customer sees, including servers, bartenders, food runners, and bar backs, and operations like table and bar service. The back of house refers to areas most diners don’t experience, like the kitchen, prep areas, and offices.

While several fields were interrupted by the pandemic, none was affected more so than the hospitality industry. At the height of COVID, many front-of-house staff were laid off as restaurants struggled to remain afloat—others left by their own choice in droves. The volatility of the hospitality industry, the health risks associated with COVID, and worker burnout all contributed to the massive loss of hospitality jobs in the U.S. since February 2020.

But luckily for us, some workers, like the six people we spoke with below, stuck it out. (One even joined the industry on the tail end of the pandemic.) Most of our interviewees agree that, despite the hardships of the past years, restaurant life is getting back to pre-pandemic times.

Peter Keck

Charleston

Maître d’hôtel Peter Keck is the go-to guy at Charleston in Harbor East. The fancy French title on his business card simply means he manages the restaurant, he says.

Though he downplays his role, the restaurant was recently named a semi-finalist for a James Beard Award for Outstanding Hospitality, which is no small feat. If something is amiss with a diner—their table isn’t ready when they arrive, for instance—Keck will step in to smooth out the situation, maybe offering a free glass of wine.

“The best part of my job is I get to make people happy and call that my career,” he says. “The worst part of my job is that sometimes you feel like you are the black hole for everything that’s going wrong.”

Keck has been with the owners, chef Cindy Wolf and Tony Foreman, since they opened Savannah in Fells Point in 1995. While he’s taken a few breaks when his daughters, now 25 and 22, were younger, he has spent most of his career with the business partners. He’s held various positions during his tenure, including as beverage manager in Charleston’s early days. He recalls one evening when a regular guest sat at the bar chatting after his dinner and left a $1,000 tip on an $85 bill.

“It was over the top,” Keck recalls. “It’s not every day you get to pay your rent with a tip.”

Currently, his official 10-hour day at Charleston starts at 4 p.m., but the Fells Point resident deals with myriad issues before even walking in the door. The text messages from staff start around 11:30 a.m., he says, with missives like: “Something is on fire.” “This staffer has a sick child.” “This person fell off a scooter.”

“THE BEST PART OF MY JOB IS I GET TO MAKE PEOPLE HAPPY AND CALL THAT MY CAREER.”

Once at work, he checks in with the staff before service begins to address any other concerns. There are typically about 23 front-of-house workers, from servers and bartenders to hosts and food runners, on duty each night. Despite being impeccably dressed in an Ermenegildo Zegna Italian suit, Keck has been known to climb a ladder and peer into the ceiling to fix a clogged pipe during his day. But mostly, he circulates through the restaurant interacting with customers.

“I’m driven by the expression on people’s faces and the atmosphere in the dining room,” he says. “That’s all the bottom line I need, people smiling and telling us they will come back again.”

At 57, Keck has no plans to slow down, but he has thought about the future.

“Tony and I talk about being two old guys who hang around the wine shop and pop into the restaurants,” he says with a laugh. “I don’t know how likely that is to happen, but I’m sure we will fulfill that to a certain extent.”

Aaron Day

The Prime Rib

Aaron Day, who has been lugging plates of juicy beef at The Prime Rib since 1973, rattles off an impressive list of diners he’s waited on: Rosa Parks, Mohammad Ali, Joe Frazier, Oprah Winfrey, Montel Williams, Liberace, and Maya Angelou, to name a few of the famous folks who have graced his tables. In the beginning, Day used to get starstruck by the celebrity clientele.

“I would get a little intimidated,” he admits. “But now, it’s kind of easy.”

He remembers talking to Parks about Dr. Levi Watkins Jr., a Johns Hopkins heart surgeon who implanted her pacemaker and would bring her to the restaurant on her check-up visits to Baltimore. Occasionally, Day will drive his well-known customers to their lodgings. One evening, he chauffeured Tom and Dick Smothers of the Smothers Brothers comedy-musical duo to the Lord Baltimore Hotel.

“They lit up some marijuana and told me not to tell anyone,” Day says. “I was worried the police would pull me over.” They didn’t.

Local hotshots also make their appearances at the restaurant, from Ravens kicker Justin Tucker (he’s gracious about taking selfies with diners, Day says) and Fox45’s Kai Jackson to attorneys Billy Murphy and Warren Brown.

“This is where everybody in Baltimore City comes for a dining experience,” he says.

Day, who grew up in Edmondson Village, started at The Prime Rib as a busboy when he was 15, moving up to a waiter position when he turned 21. He was the only African-American server in the dining room at the time, he says, and was thrilled to be more than doubling his salary.  He has been a stickler about finances since he was a boy, cutting grass for his neighbors and learning about the stock market.

“I would go to the bank every day and put money away,” he says. “I came away with this thing for saving money.”

In high school, he bought his first car: a white 1970 Lincoln Continental. “The police used to pull me over two or three times a day and harass me a little bit,” he recalls. “They wondered how a guy like me could afford a car like that. I told them I worked at The Prime Rib.”

Now, Day, 65, arrives at the restaurant around 3:45 p.m. four nights a week to set up his station and make sure each place setting is pristine. He changes into a black tuxedo, the required attire for servers, before the first diners arrive at 5 p.m., usually finishing up his duties at 11 p.m.

He’s going to work as long as his legs hold out, he says. When Day does retire, he plans to trade stocks, take care of his family (a son, daughter, granddaughter, and grandson), and, oh, go out to dinner.

Oscar Galvis

Restaurante Tio Pepe

Oscar Galvis had no idea when he started working at Tio Pepe in 1975 that he’d be waiting tables at one of Baltimore’s longest running restaurants 47 years later.

“I like the people, and besides, it’s a living,” he says. “That why I stay there.”

He’s witnessed wedding proposals and various celebrations in the past decades, but he particularly remembers a couple who met at Tio Pepe on a blind date years ago. The couple eventually married and still come to Tio Pepe, he says.

Galvis, a Colombia native, was drawn to Baltimore because of a romantic interest when he was 19 years old. Looking for a job, he headed to Tio Pepe, known for its Spanish-Mediterranean cuisine, after a friend urged him to apply because “they needed Spanish-speaking people,” he says.

The bilingual Galvis was hired as a busboy, happily slipping into the signature gold jacket that’s the uniform of the job. But the eager worker soon donned a blue jacket as a food runner, working his way up to server with the coveted red jacket of the position.

The colorful, formal attire has been worn since the Mt. Vernon classic opened in 1968. And while much of the old-school restaurant hasn’t changed, there have been some adjustments. Lunch is no longer offered, and the workers, who once toiled six or seven days a week, have more manageable hours.

“TO HAVE ALL THESE PEOPLE, SECOND, THIRD, AND FOURTH GENERATIONS, COME HERE IS THE BEST PART.”

Galvis, now 69, works between three and five days a week, starting at 5:30 p.m. The years have taken a toll on him physically, though, causing knee problems. He shrugs off the discomfort, saying, “That’s part of life.”

During his work evenings, Galvis juggles up to nine tables a night, depending on how busy the restaurant is. His secret to dealing with diners: “You need patience,” Galvis says. “You have to make things more relaxing.”

Over the years, he’s watched customers bring their children, grandchildren, and even their great-grandchildren to the restaurant. That’s his reward, he says: “To have all these people, second, third, and fourth generations, come here is the best part.”

Jillian Garner

Kooper’s Tavern

At 26, Jillian Garner sees waiting tables as a means to an end. “I want to start on a psychology degree,” she says. “I’ve always dreamed of being a Towson Tiger.”

Garner, who lives in the Oliver neighborhood of East Baltimore, strives to be financially independent. “I have to do everything on my own,” she explains. “I have to put myself through [school].”

After graduating from Glen Burnie High School, Garner enrolled in a medical-assisting program at a local trade school, ending up at a plasma center. She realized that wasn’t her calling and took a job at Outback Steakhouse in Canton in 2018. She eventually ended up at the now-closed Lucky Buns in Fells Point in early 2022. After rumors flew that the restaurant was closing for “renovations,” she applied for a job at Kooper’s Tavern in Fells Point and has been a full-time server since last April.

“I decided to give it a try, and I love it,” she says. Garner starts her five-day workweek at 9:30 a.m. on weekdays and at 9 a.m. on weekends, when she works double shifts. “It’s a good money maker,” she says with a laugh. “I’m always down for a dollar.”

Before diners arrive, Garner gets the tables ready and sets up the silverware, among other duties. She appreciates the customers who engage with her.

“I love that they ask me for my name and ask me how my day is,” she says. “It makes a huge difference.”

She’s also prepared for cranky customers. “Of course, we have moments when people aren’t happy, and we do everything to make it right,” she says. “Even if we think they’re not going to tip, everyone gets treated the same way with a smile.”

Thebonus is the people she’s met. “I’ve made great friends along the way,” she says. “The clientele is a family in itself.”

Teresa Marconi

Thames Street Oyster House

Only Teresa Marconi can make wolffish—an Icelandic specimen prized by chefs for its sweet, crab-like texture—sound like a dish you’ve been waiting for your whole life.

She’s done research on the fish, a special on some evenings, before she even approaches the upstairs tables she waits on at Thames Street Oyster House, gleaning information from executive chef Eric Houseknecht and exploring questions like, “How ugly is a wolffish? How lean is the meat?” Her resulting spiel gets everyone’s attention.

“People don’t know what this stuff is,” she says. “How will they order it if I don’t tell them?”

Marconi, who has been with the Oyster House almost from the beginning, when it opened in 2011 in Fells Point, takes great pride in ensuring the restaurant’s diners leave satisfied.

“I like to make people feel like they’re in good hands with me and the food,” she says.

One of her customers drives from out of town just to order the restaurant’s signature five-pound lobster stuffed with crab, shrimp, and scallops. He’s ordered it so often—probably at least 10 times over the years, Marconi says—that the kitchen has named the dish “The Paris Brown” after him.

“He and his wife eat what they can and take the rest home,” Marconi says. “Then, they eat it for the rest of the week.”

“WE’RE BACK TO BEING BUSY. IT’S PRETTY MUCH A STRAIGHT RUSH. THERE’S A LOT OF PHYSICAL WORK TO IT.”

Marconi, 60, has been wowing customers since 1983, when she worked as a summer waitress at Brass Balls Saloon in Ocean City to earn money to pay for college. Even after she graduated from then-Towson State University with a degree in mass communications, she leaned toward the hospitality business, settling in at John Steven Ltd. in Fells Point for 14 ½ years before following her friend, chef-owner Jason Ambrose, to Salt Tavern in Butchers Hill in 2006.

Along the way, the Idlewylde resident and her partner, Bruce Dombeck, had two sons: Clay, who is now 23, and Beau, 18.

During the pandemic, Marconi helped with the Oyster House’s carryout service and outdoor customers until the restaurant was fully operational again.

“It feels the same to me now,” she says. “We’re back to being busy.” Marconi’s day starts around 3 p.m., when she checks in for her shift, setting up the dining room and making sure the wine station is organized. At 4:30, diners begin to arrive for what Marconi calls “four and a half hard hours.”

“It’s pretty much a straight rush,” she says. “There’s a lot of physical work to it.”

She usually avoids making any serious mistakes during service, though occasionally she’ll inadvertently knock over a diner’s water glass (“Thankfully, not red wine” she says.) And, sure, various local sports figures like Ravens kicker Justin Tucker and linebacker Joshua Bynes pop in, but everyone gets the Marconi treatment if they’re sitting at one of her tables.

“They’re VIPs,” she says. “But everybody is a VIP to me.”

Richard Afrookteh

The Bygone

Richard “Rich” Afrookteh at The Bygone in Harbor East came into the hospitality field in a roundabout way. First, he practiced law; then, he became a business owner, running a bus company that transported students to private and parochial schools.

But in 2018, Afrookteh realized it was time to pursue his dream of working in the restaurant field.

“I decided that I’m going to do what I really wanted to do and be in the food industry,” he says.

Today, at The Bygone, he serves a range of customers, from groups of teenagers celebrating birthdays to prominent diners with deep pockets. Recently, he waited on a couple who enjoyed a meal with pricey bottles of Champagne and red wine. At the end of the $3,000 meal, the husband tacked on a $2,500 tip.

“I was floored,” Afrookteh says. “I still have the receipt.”

Afrookteh, who grew up in Catonsville, had always been fascinated by food, influenced by his dietitian mother, TV cooking shows, and watching his grandmother cook. After high school, he worked as a server in Ocean City, where he experienced one of his most embarrassing incidents, at Mario’s Italian Restaurant.

Afrookteh was dishing out scoops of shrimp scampi from a serving dish to a table of diners when a man began gesticulating, causing the dish to tilt and drip some of the gooey contents onto the man’s toupee.

“He had venom in his eyes,” Afrookteh recalls. “It was mortifying.”

That didn’t deter the 19-year-old from wanting to pursue a hospitality career. However, his father, a general surgeon, “never supported that kind of notion,” he says, so he went to the University of Delaware and then University of Baltimore School of Law before working in the Maryland Office of the Attorney General.

When Afrookteh’s children arrived—two daughters, now 28 and 25—he went into private practice. After he left the bus enterprise, he saw an opening for a server at the now-closed Alexander Brown Restaurant in downtown Baltimore.

“I applied online, and they hired me,” he says. “I thought, ‘I guess I can get back in the front of house.’”

When the restaurant closed during the pandemic, Afrookteh, who lives in an Inner Harbor condo, headed to Antrim 1844 in Taneytown and The Valley Inn in Lutherville before landing at his current post in April 2021.

“When I arrived, I was nervous about The Bygone, wondering, ‘Is it going to be corporate and stuffy?’” he says. “But the Atlas Group was very welcoming.”

Afrookteh, who wears a blue dinner jacket, black slacks, bowtie, and white shirt for his role, arrives at the restaurant’s 29th-floor dining room by about 3:45 p.m. on workdays to prepare for pre-shift meetings and the family meal, when staff members share food before their shifts begin. Dinner service starts at 5 p.m.

“Once I’m finished, I’m home at 11 p.m. or midnight,” he says. “It’s a long day.”

The effort is worth it if his diners enjoyed their meals. “I don’t think I do anything unique,” he says. “I try to allow people to experience the feeling they want in that moment. I want them to feel that No. 1, they’re welcome, and No. 2, that this is a place where they are special.”

From sushi to ceviche to crudo to carpaccio, raw (aka tartare) dishes, have long been a prominent part of various cultures and gained popularity at Baltimore restaurants. But lately, every area menu seems to have its take on steak tartare. And this raw beef dish, with a creamy consistency and assertive seasoning, has become the new “It” appetizer, with various versions, whether chopped, ground, or practically puréed, on offer at Duck Duck Goose, Marie Louise Bistro, Monarque, The Milton Inn, and JBGB’s.

The original dish was called steak à l’Americaine, and a variety served with tartar sauce on the side was called à la tartare. Eventually, the sauce was eliminated, but the name stuck.

“The fun of it always was that the French would give you all of the hand-chopped beef and there would be a raw egg yolk sitting on top,” says Cindy Wolf, co-owner and executive chef of Charleston in Harbor East. “And then you would have the garnishes around and you’d make your own. In the U.S., over time, people started mixing it all together and doing their own versions.”

Wolf’s version of the dish—hand-chopped beef tenderloin, chopped shallots, chives, lime, jalapeño, and EVOO, served with French bread toast points—is at once familiar and brand new, with a brightness that comes courtesy of the jalapeño.

“It sells so well,” says Wolf. “It’s one of the most popular things on the menu.”

The steak tartare trend has really taken off thanks to the prevalence of high-quality beef in the U.S., says Wolf, who sources her product from Kansas-based Creekstone Farms.

“We have excellent quality beef in our country,” says Wolf, whose father worked in the restaurant industry and whose grandfather and great-grandfather were butchers. “People recognize that—and that there’s nothing wrong with eating it raw.”

Mimi Cooper and her friend Steve Stegner had never eaten at Birroteca, the popular pizza and pasta restaurant in Hampden, so they decided to drop in on a cold night in January. Although their stomachs were growling after seeing Macbeth at The Charles Theatre, they didn’t feel like fussing with the formality of being seated then served at a table in the dining room, which was sparsely occupied. So, to glean the true flavor of the place, they grabbed two stools and bellied up to the bar.

“When we go out, we like to sit at the bar,” Cooper, 79, says. “It’s fun to be close to each other. I think bartenders are sort of fun. They give you quite a bit of attention. It’s cozy.”

After the bartender offers Cooper a taste of a lager she was considering, a courtesy that comes from sitting at the bar, Sam Frank, 31, joins the conversation. He and his fiancée, Grace Jacoby, are sitting catty-corner at the bar sharing a mushroom pizza—the same variety Cooper and Stegner are splitting. The four begin an impromptu chat.

“ALL THE GREAT CULTURES OF HISTORY HAVE HAD A VERY STRONG BAR CULTURE.”

“That is a testament to eating at the bar,” Frank says. “Isn’t it wonderful?” replies Cooper, who dives headfirst into a conversation with her fellow patron. “I love it. I just talked with the couple that preceded you. They were going to Seattle, and we were talking about their trip out West. I love talking to people.”

“You’re not going to have this experience if you’re sitting at a table,” Frank says. “This is why we eat at the bar.”

Ask a person chowing down at a bar why they prefer their perch to a seat in a dining room and you’ll hear a surprising array of answers. My first drink arrives faster. So does my second one, for that matter. The food is served a tad bit quicker. I’m closer to the action. Bartenders make fascinating conversation. It’s a more relaxed setting. As for Cooper and Stegner, they say that when they sit side by side rather than across from one another, they hear each other more clearly.

But after these practical advantages are rattled off, almost always another, more primal idea is expressed: Eating at a bar is a communal activity.

“It’s at the very core of what we do as humans, which is be together,” says Enrique Pallares, owner of The Wine Collective in Hampden. “This has political, social, and cultural implications. All the great cultures of history have had a very strong bar culture. They create community.”

Although eating at a bar has been a practice for decades, its popularity has exploded in the last generation, says Gino Cardinale, co-owner of Tark’s Grill & Bar in Lutherville-Timonium and former owner of the late great City Café in Mt. Vernon.

“I think it goes to how dining has evolved…it’s very social now,” he says. “A couple comes in for dinner, they’re not necessarily looking to be by themselves. They like to strike up conversations with other people and interact with the bar staff. I think it has a lot to do with that conviviality of being among other people. I saw this at City Café over the years. The bar was once a place just for drinking, maybe after-work happy hours. It started to segue into [being] more about actual dining. We sell a lot of bottles of our finer wines at the bar. You never used to see that. It’s really taken off.”

Brad Barnes is director of consulting and industry programs at the Culinary Institute of America. The Baltimore native has worked in the business for decades and is bullish on the future of eating at the bar as the pandemic (hopefully) wanes.

“As we come out of COVID, the blending of social and food opportunities will be more and more powerful,” he says. “So I think it’s worthwhile for people to have [the option to] eat in less formal settings.”

From the fanciest of white-tablecloth bistros to a hyper-casual neighborhood joint, walk into almost any restaurant in town around dinnertime and you’re likely to see people with plates, not just glasses, in front of them at the bar. It’s the perfect way to try a dish or two at a new restaurant without committing to multiple courses. The sense of pressure to order, eat, pay, and promptly leave is decidedly lighter at the bar than in the dining room.

They’re different ecosystems coexisting in the same world.

“If you’re going to go to a decent restaurant, when you have a table, you’re kind of buying that table,” says Jackie Pestka, a chef instructor at Stratford University’s Baltimore campus. “If you’re sitting there and you’ve got three people, and two people order something and one doesn’t, that’s not really a good thing for the restaurant. You can feel self-conscious. You’re almost pushed to get more than you normally would. If you’re sitting at the bar, you can just have an appetizer. I can go to three or four different restaurants in an evening and just grab an app or a small entree and not feel guilty about it.”

Eating at the bar, which has always been a popular option for solo diners, provides a radically different spatial orientation for parties of two or more than sitting around a table. It can create a more casual context for conversation or make periods of silence less awkward. A bartender mixing a colorful cocktail makes for intoxicating theater. A stranger can be invited into a discussion (just don’t talk politics) or you can veg out and watch a game.

T. Cole Newton is vice president of the United States Bartenders’ Guild. The Washington, D.C., native now lives in New Orleans, where he owns two bars. He’s spent countless hours on both sides of bars.

“When you’re at a table, especially if it’s just one or two people, you’re very much alone for the duration of your meal,” he says. “To dine at the bar, not only are you sharing the bartender’s space, but you’re also sharing that space with everyone else at the bar. It’s essentially like being at one really long table. So there’s a lot more opportunity to have a shared experience. If you’re sitting at a table and you talk to somebody at the table next to you, that’s a very strange thing to do culturally. That’s not the expectation, to lean over to the person at the next table and be like, ‘Hey, what are you eating?’ But if you do that to somebody at the bar, that’s part of what the expectation is.”

That’s exactly what happened at Birroteca. A spontaneous interaction between a young couple and strangers at least a generation older left all with a warm, however brief, memory. It never would have happened in a dining room.

“The bar provides an opportunity to connect with people,” Newton says. “Bars are one of the very few places where those types of random human connections are encouraged.”

Baltimore has no shortage of fantastic restaurants where dining at the bar is welcomed, and provides an entirely different experience than eating in the dining room. Here are eight of our many favorites.

→ Birroteca

Hampden

When it opened in 2012, Birroteca became an instant draw for people in Hampden and beyond. Diners flocked there for its terrific pizzas, pastas, and cocktails, but also because of its inviting atmosphere. Full meals are often enjoyed at its large, four-sided bar.

“We have a pretty regular crowd that comes in and doesn’t even entertain the option of sitting at a table,” owner-operator Mike Moran says. “The bartender often forms a connection with the person they are serving.”

Frank and Jacoby always sit at the bar when they eat at Birroteca. “We don’t like sitting across from each other, it feels like an interrogation,” Jacoby says. “I like touching knees and cuddling up, and the conversations you can have with your neighbors and your bartenders are special.”

Birroteca serves pastas, risottos, and inventive appetizers like beet bruschetta, but it is best known for its pizzas. The Duck Duck Goose, with duck confit, fig-onion jam, fontina, Asiago, balsamic, and duck egg is particularly delicious. Eating one at the bar is a breeze.

Pizzas arrive on elevated metal trays with a spatula that makes helping yourself to a slice easy. There are two TVs, one of which usually is tuned to a (muted) movie. Moran is not a sports fan, and when he eats elsewhere at a bar, he appreciates some non-ball-related programming.

On that recent Wednesday night, Frank and Jacoby were sitting with their backs to the screens, engaged in conversation with each other and occasionally their bartender and their neighbors.

“We had our first date at a bar,” Frank said, “and I’m hoping that even when we get old, we will never get away from sitting at the bar.”

→ Charleston

Harbor East

Eating at the bar is not an option that most people consider when they think of a renowned fancy restaurant. This Harbor East legend is certainly that, but dining at its smallish but attractive bar is a popular pick for regulars, says co-owner Tony Foreman.

“It’s a different social engagement for sure,” he says. “You have dedicated staff that’s not out of your eyesight, and that’s comforting to some people. People have strict rules about whether they want to sit in the dining room or not. There are some that never do. There are some that only do with their spouse. Some guys, when they come in with their spouse, they eat at the bar, but when they come in with friends, they sit at a table.”

Regardless of where you sit, Charleston is not cheap. But whereas in the dining room there is a three-course minimum, at the bar dishes are available a la carte. In theory.

IN THE DINING ROOM AT CHARLESTON, THERE IS A
THREE- COURSE MINIMUM. AT THE BAR, DISHES ARE AVAILABLE
A LA CARTE.

“Most people have the full menu at the bar,” Foreman says. “The reality is once you have one dish, it makes you want another.”

Service is just as polished at the bar as in the dining room. After ordering, folded napkins and tableware are placed on the bar and a complimentary snack—pastry puffs with artichoke and Gruyère soup on a recent night—is served.

Foreman often encourages people who haven’t been to the restaurant to sit at the bar and enjoy a glass of Champagne and a plate of cornmeal-fried oysters during their first visit to acclimate themselves to the kitchen’s style. Although we’ve eaten there often, we took his suggestion on a recent Thursday evening.

His advice—like everything at Charleston—was spot on.

→ Costas Inn

Dundalk

The term “crab feast” usually conjures images of people seated at picnic tables, booths, or long communal tables cracking Maryland’s favorite crustacean. But at this Dundalk restaurant, many people prefer to take mallet to shell while sitting at the bar.

“It’s very common here,” says general manager Peter Triantafilos, whose father, Costas, has owned the place for more than 50 years. “We’ve got a lot of regulars that prefer to eat crabs at the bar. It’s like second nature. Eating crabs is always a social thing. We lay the paper down, give them a couple mallets and they’re good to go.”

Costas Triantafilos estimates that about 10 percent of his customers eat crabs at the bar. That may not sound like a lot, but when you consider that 40 to 50 people can comfortably sit around the massive 12-foot-wide, 42-foot- long wooden bar, that adds up to a lot of blue crabs. The restaurant serves crabs from Louisiana and Texas virtually year-round (just to be safe, in the winter call to check availability before you go), and in the summer can steam 11,000 crabs in a week.

“You might have somebody eating a filet mignon and the person next to them is cracking crabs,” Peter says. “Everybody is going with the flow.”

→ Maggie’s Farm

Hamilton

Want proof of the popularity of the small bar in the back of this Hamilton favorite? When it’s full, regulars often choose a table within eyeshot of the eight stools.

“[They] have a couple drinks and maybe an appetizer, and they wait until it’s empty and then they move,” says chef Abdul Saeed, who owns the restaurant with his wife, Dana.

Tristan Gilbert and his girlfriend, Erin, took friends from out of town to Maggie’s Farm on a Friday night in January. They sat at the bar, where they all devoured Saeed’s delectable Korean pig wings. The appeal is multifaceted, he says.

“It’s quicker to get seated. We can see the taps. We’re beer lovers, so going into a place and being able to shop with your eyes before you even see the menu, that’s always appealing. If I have a question about something, the bartender is usually much more readily available than a server would be.”

And Gilbert just likes the vibe. “It’s definitely a cozy bar,” he says. “It feels like you’re hanging in somebody’s living room.”

THE PRIME RIB HAS A MENU WITH ITEMS, INCLUDING A PRIME RIB SANDWICH, ONLY AVAILABLE TO THOSE SITTING ON STOOLS.

→ The Prime Rib

Mt. Vernon 

Don Ervin and his wife, Lachele, arrived at their favorite downtown steakhouse at precisely 5:01, a minute after it opened. As regulars, they know the popularity of eating at its elegant bar, and they were determined to secure their favorite two stools in the corner.

“You meet some interesting people sitting here,” Lachele says. “People that like to eat at the bar are interested in people. Not that you’re looking to meet them, but you’re a little more open to engaging.”

The Prime Rib serves its full menu at the bar, but also has a special menu with items, including a prime rib sandwich and burgers, that are available only to those sitting on stools. Mark “Chavez” Linzey has been bartending there for 15 years.

“We have some people who come in five nights a week and eat at the bar,” he says. “It’s nice having people eat at the bar. They talk to me or watch a game. They talk to the couple next to them. There’s a camaraderie at the bar.”

On one weekday night in January, roughly half the restaurant’s food orders stemmed from the bar, assistant manager Dan Buceti says. The Ervins enjoyed cocktails while they waited for their butterfly shrimp and oysters casino.

“This is our spot,” Lachele says of the restaurant and their regular perches. “It’s a fine dining experience at the bar.”

→ Rec Pier Chop House 

Fells Point 

Anyone who’s traveled for business knows that the road can be a lonely place. Perhaps that’s one reason why many solo diners choose to eat at hotel bars.

“Because it’s a hotel we do get more individuals that come in and eat at the bar,” says Rec Pier Chop House manager Gabriella Taylor.

The upscale steakhouse is located inside the Sagamore Pendry Baltimore hotel in Fells Point. Some get the tasty, pricey steaks that emerge from new executive chef Colin King’s kitchen, but others order lighter.

“We do get a lot of people that won’t eat a full three-course meal,” Taylor says. “They’ll order a couple [antipasti], or a side and an entree.”

There are two TV screens behind the gorgeous Patrick Sutton-designed bar, but often solo diners are in the mood to chat, says bartender Daniel Summers.

“A lot of times they might be interested in something they can do [in the area], or they’re just blowing off steam because they’re finally getting away,” he says. “It doesn’t bother me at all. Personally, when I go out to drink, I want to be able to eat something. I think they go hand in hand. It’s a better experience overall for the guests.”

→ Tark’s Grill & Bar 

Green Spring Station

As it is almost every night, the bar at this wildly popular restaurant in Green Spring Station is bustling. Every seat at the bar is taken, and almost everyone has both a plate of food and a glass of wine in front of them. Conversations, among other things, are flowing. The crowd skews older, and couples who look like they’re dating sit intertwined with those who seem as if they’ve been married for decades.

“Tark’s is a very approachable restaurant still with an upscale nature, so a lot of people do come there for first dates. We hear that a lot,” co-owner Gino Cardinale says. “It’s a little more relaxed. Bar dining is good for that. You can have a nice dinner and a drink and interact, and you still have other people around you, and it doesn’t seem like you’re too formal.

“Bar dining also works for people who have been together for a very long time. They want to come out and have a good time. They’ve been together for 30 years and they’ve already done all the romantic stuff.”

The restaurant is a favorite of WJZ anchor Marty Bass and his wife, Sharon, who live about 10 minutes away and eat at the bar once every week and a half or so.

“It’s a very relaxed way to dine,” he says. “Generally speaking, you meet like-minded people, people who like the casual ambiance of a bar. Bartenders are fascinating people. You always get into great conversations, whether it be about craft cocktails or whatever’s happening that day.”

Although the bar is first come, first served, the restaurant will accept reservations for the high-top tables in the bar area. They’re quite popular, Cardinale says, because they combine elements of both the bar and the dining room.

The restaurant features a large and diverse menu. Among Bass’s favorites are the French dip sandwich and the seafood Cobb salad, which he calls a Cobb salad “on steroids.”

“Back that up with a cold beer and you’re living large,” he says. “Tark’s is beautiful because it’s organic. We don’t really plan [our visits] there. It just happens. And that’s another joy of eating at the bar.”

→ The Wine Collective 

Hampden 

Does any food pair better with wine than a charcuterie board? At The Wine Collective inside Union Collective in Hampden, plates of sliced meats, cheeses, and smoked fish are the top-seller, and many people enjoy eating them at the bar.

“One of our ideas behind the menu is we are inspired by Spanish [restaurants],” says owner Enrique Pallares. “All the food we serve is trying to bring the octopus and the Iberico ham from the white tablecloth to the bar top, to make it a casual activity that doesn’t sacrifice quality.”

The restaurant serves some of the best tinned fish in the city. Many of its foods are imported, while others are hyper-local. The torched bread on the charcuterie plate is made at Cunningham’s Bakery a few miles away.

The actual bar in the cavernous, warehouse-like space is a beauty; it’s copper-topped, and its face is decorated with green tiles imported from Portugal.

“The paradox of the outdoor being a very industrial, somewhat grungy feel, then you come inside and see all this stainless steel and wood and copper, it’s sort of a metaphor for the heart of gold of Baltimore,” Pallares says.

Rules for Eating at the Bar

• Don’t be a space invader: If you’re seated at the bar, the stool next to you isn’t for your purse or jacket. Keep your personal belongings in your dedicated space or look for a handbag hook under the bar.
• Mute your phone: Even if you’re dining by yourself, your phone should always be muted. If you need to make or take a call, step outside.
• Be cordial: You’re in closer quarters with fellow patrons than you are in the dining room, so this is not the time to spout off your political opinions.
• Hands off: Not everything on the bar is yours to touch. If there’s a garnish or fruit bowl, don’t reach into it and help yourself to an olive. If you want something, ask your bartender.
• Gauge your gab: Don’t assume that the person next to you wants to talk. Gauge their desire to gab and go from there.
• Don’t loom: Whenever possible, if someone is eating at the bar, don’t stand behind them and try to order a drink. Respect a diner’s personal space.
• Make room: If you’re in the middle of a row and two people are looking for stools together, slide down one if you can.
• Tip big: Tip your bar staff as generously as you would a server in the dining room.

As we’ve learned over the past few months, dining out is about so much more than just the food. From the décor to the service to the feeling of being indulged, there’s nothing like a night out on the town. But as more places pivot their way into a new form of existence, everyone it seems, including spots we never would have expected to brown bag (or box) it, is offering food to go.

From Charleston to Orto to Aldo’s Ristorante, fancy food is available for cash (or credit)—and carry (though all are currently open for in-person dining). If you do decide to get carryout with fine-dining leanings, consider making it a festive feast at home.

“I love it when folks do their best to plate up with their best china and really celebrate the table,” says Charleston’s Cindy Wolf. “Offering takeaway allows us to share what we’re doing with more people.”

Follow these tips for the perfect backdrop to your fancy feast:

CENTERPIECES: To make a beautiful bouquet and bring a table to life, look no further than your own backyard. Clip wildflowers, get some greenery, or gather fallen tree branches or twigs (and even feathers) to add a more rustic look to your table. Or gather a collection of potted plants to bring in the outdoors and add some flair.

CONVERSATION STARTERS: Give each member of the table a thought-provoking question to get the conversation going. Some sample starters: If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would it be? If you could eat only three foods for the rest of your life, what would they be? (Our picks would include the two dishes, from Charleston, pictured.)

PLACECARDS: Yes, you’ve likely been staring at the same two
or three people since you began quarantining, but that doesn’t mean you should always sit in the same seat. Make it an art project and design pretty placecards to help your table feel both formal and inviting.

DISHES AND GLASSWARE: You’ve spent a lot on the fare, break out the dishware (and grandma’s glass goblets) you never use to make the night feel extra special.

CANDLES: Dim the lights, find some tea lights or tall tapered candles, and your family will literally be glowing all night.

LINENS
AND UTENSILS: Why not use a white tablecloth, if you have one? Invest in patterned napkins in bright colors to give your table personality. Also consider watching a tutorial on the art of napkin folding—it’s easier than you think. Skip napkin rings and tie ribbons around your flatware at each place setting. And, if you have it, take out the silver.

MUSIC: The sound of silence is great if you’re reading a book or writing a letter. But there’s nothing like a little night music to transport you to another place and add to the celebratory mood, whether your tastes tend toward Top 40, classical, jazz, or reggae.

Like all hospitality professionals, veteran restaurateurs Tony Foreman and Chef Cindy Wolf are grappling with the aftermath of the closing of their beloved restaurants during the pandemic.

While it’s been challenging, they have been making the best of the situation from their respective Roland Park homes. Foreman is reimagining the wine menu at Charleston and spending time with his family. Wolf is cooking up a storm in her state-of-the-art kitchen and doing ad-hoc cooking videos for her legions of fans.

Both are eagerly awaiting the day they can reopen Charleston, Cinghiale, and Bar Vasquez in Harbor East, as well as Petit Louis and Johnny’s in Roland Park.

“I believe that there will be restaurants that go out of business, and I feel sad about that,” says Wolf. “I have to do what I do, so somehow, some way, we will reopen. I don’t know if that’s pie in the sky, but I will not allow this to not happen—it has to happen.”

How are you?
Tony Foreman: There’s plenty of existential threat on the business and our livelihood as a family, but the sudden big chunk of family time and the chance to just prepare food for the people who are in my house and to just worry about homework, learning to ride the bike, do nature walks in a really wonderful neighborhood, and do stuff that we don’t ordinarily have time for has been really wonderful.

Cindy Wolf: I’m used to being alone, I’m just not used to being home alone for this many hours a day. I’m used to being at the restaurant 12 hours a day, so my home time is maybe an hour and then sleeping and going to work the next day. But thank goodness I have a beautiful home to live in and no one on our staff has gotten sick.

On the last night of service before the shutdown it just didn’t feel right. It was hushed—the laughter, the joy, the excitement, all of the good things about being in a restaurant were all sucked out of the room. —Cindy Wolf

What was that final night of service at the restaurants like?
TF: We had the very strong feeling the governor was going to shut us down. When he did, I was of two minds. The first thought was, ‘Let’s do something to generate income and at least keep some people working.’ We formulated a plan and immediately responded by having takeout for our guests on Monday and Tuesday.

I had a long conversation with [Petit Louis executive chef] Chris Scanga the day before. He was concerned about being the guy who would go to work and take the virus home to his family—that hit home with me. I slept on it and thought, ‘In good conscience, can I ask these people to come to work when this thing is still ramping up?’ We don’t know what it is or how bad it’s going to be. Are we contributing to it just by doing a to-go business in the name of keeping people employed? I called Cindy and she agreed.

What was the last night of service at Charleston like specifically?
CW: When I saw my waiters in the dining room wearing gloves and my runners wearing gloves and [maître d’] Peter [Keck] walking around—he wasn’t doing anything but sanitizing doorknobs—I was like, ‘This is just not right. This is a restaurant.’ Of course, it should be sanitary, but this is heartbreaking for me to see my waiters walking around with gloves and being scared to walk to tables. I was like, ‘What are we doing? Why are we open? This is not how you operate a restaurant.’ From my kitchen, I can see into the dining room and it just didn’t feel right. It was hushed—the laughter, the joy, the excitement, all of the good things about being in a restaurant were all sucked out of the room.

My ability to fry things in whatever cast iron is lying around has been rehomed from my great grandmother Annie Ross’s kitchen—she was Miss North Carolina 1910. —Tony Foreman

What kinds of things have you been cooking at home?
TF: [My 6-year-old daughter], Del, loves fish and so does my wife, Katie. Two nights a week we have some kind of fish. We got really beautiful yellowfin tuna through work and a nice Scottish salmon. When asparagus are around it’s easy—it’s salmon and asparagus. I also made a fried chicken sandwich for Del. It was super tasty with sprouts and crunchy veggies piled on it. My ability to fry things in whatever cast iron is lying around has been rehomed from my great grandmother Annie Ross’s kitchen—she was Miss North Carolina 1910.

Chef Wolf, from the looks of Instagram, it seems like you’re making a lot of great meals at home.
CW: I love food, even if I’m just cooking for myself. If I have leftovers, I give them to someone who works for me. It makes me happy. When we had a sense that something bad was about to happen, I bought chicken and we broke it down and put it on our freezer in small packages at Charleston. I went to the grocery store and, for the first time in my life, I bought frozen vegetables.

What I have dictates what I cook. My farm in Ohio is just starting out. The salesperson sent me an email saying, ‘We want to send you a box as a gift.’ It was filled with radishes, potatoes, microgreens, and baby parsnips. That really improved my home cooking. In the beginning of this, I ate a lot of chicken. I had some Brabander, it’s an incredible piece of cheese. I brought home a duck breast from Charleston and made magret and ate that for three days. I also got a delivery from Eddie’s. I told them I wanted rack of lamb but didn’t want them to French [cut] it. The meat between the bones on the rack, when left on and roasted properly, is the best part of the rack meat. Between the bones can be so tender and has so much fat surrounding it.

You’ve been posting lots of cooking videos. Why did you decide to make them?
CW: I want to share. I want to teach. I teach every day at work. I’ve always wanted to have my own cooking show.

Any cooking tips for those of us staring blankly into our pantry wondering what’s for dinner?
CW: Reach into the past. All cultures have peasant cooking—all of these old rice and bean dishes. Make things with flour like empanadas—which are made with flour, fat, and water—or pasta. Learn how to make pasta if you can get your hands on flour. Get an inexpensive hand-rolling pasta machine on Amazon. Or boil a potato, mash it, and add ground beef and any spices you like—saffron, chili powder, cayenne, salt, pepper—and add an egg. It’s as good cold as it is hot. Look for old world recipes from French cooking, Mexican cooking, American food, Spanish, and Middle Eastern. Many of those dishes slow cook on the back of stove all day long and make the house smell great.

What will be on the menu at Charleston when you return?
CW: Every day I write things down for the menu, but it’s so seasonal. I have almost an entire notebook filled with either a piece of an idea or something that inspired me. I’ve been hanging out a lot with chef [Paul] Bocuse, I have a lot of his cookbooks, and Anne Willan. I just keep writing, but I don’t know when we are opening. It makes me happy to be with the cookbooks and at least have the ideas. One or two days before we open, when I bring food product in is when we will make the final decisions. I also know people will want the lobster soup and fried oysters—it won’t be a 100-percent new menu because I am here to make people happy.

Will you make changes to any of the other menus?
TF: We are working on a very different presentation and interpretation of the wine list in the cellar at Charleston—now is a chance to do it. We’re going to think about the different restaurants—each one has a pretty pure truth that it’s chasing. I want to make sure that we are as true to those things as we can be. We have the percolation time and I’m going to use it.

What do you miss about being in the restaurants?
TF: The way that our guests rely on the solidity and the care of our team from back door to front door—whether they know that or not. I like that, not just being dependable but being a dependably good piece of people’s lives in a complicated and stressful world. To know that you can go somewhere and you’re going to feel cared for.

Smaller very hand-crafted, curated, and cultivated experiences will be less and less and the attraction to creating those things is going to be less and less—there’s just too much risk. —Tony Foreman

Will restaurants survive?
TF: They are going to be changed. Things will continue to tilt in favor of chains and larger scale places. Smaller very hand-crafted, curated, and cultivated experiences will be less and less and the attraction to creating those things is going to be less and less—there’s just too much risk.

What are you looking forward to when you reopen?
TF: I’m looking forward to that first family meal with our staff. I’ve already told them I will make them a nice supper before we open and I will bring them wine from my cellar, and we will have a nice time.

I walk into that empty restaurant and it’s hard. I miss my guys. [Daytime prep cook] Hubaldo has worked for me since we’ve had Savannah—that’s 23 years. I will not walk into Charleston again until I can start to operate that restaurant again. It’s my life. —Cindy Wolf

Chef Wolf, I’ve seen from Instagram that you’ve been back to Charleston a few times.
CW: In the beginning, I went a few times. I did a bit of repair work—someone who works for us had an opportunity to make a little bit of money, so I went down there. Prior to that, I went in a few times in the first few weeks because I wanted to make sure everything was okay. Also, in those first few weeks, we still had some food left. I went four or five times when we were distributing the food. We did a huge distribution to staff the day we closed.

After being in the restaurant just yesterday, my question was, ‘When do we move forward and how do we move forward?’ It’s killing me. I will not walk into Charleston ever again until I can start to operate that restaurant again. It’s my life. I’ve wanted to do this since I was a kid. All I do is think about food. I’m at work many hours a day. When I’m not there, I’m thinking about food. When I go on vacation, I go to eat food. I eat in some of the best restaurants in France and have a glass or two of Champagne at lunch. A walk at lunch and then back to dinner—I live for that. Getting to immerse myself is so inspiring to me.

I walk into that empty restaurant and it’s hard, and I miss my guys. Hubaldo has worked for me since we’ve had Savannah—that’s 23 years. He’s my daytime prep cook. I am thankful every single day for what I do. I look at him and say, ‘Can you believe what we do?’

Why do we need restaurants?
CW: We need restaurants like Petit Louis and all the little neighborhood restaurants. We need places like Charleston so we can dress up and celebrate our anniversary, even if people need to save their coins to go to those restaurants once in a lifetime. I’m certain that whenever we reopen, our waiters will have to wear masks and gloves, which I can’t stand, but if that’s what it takes to open so be it. We can’t live without restaurants.

Dining devotee Chris Brown wants to get revenue flowing to save local restaurants as they struggle to stay afloat during the COVID crisis.

Inspired by the digital sales hub SavePhillyEats in Philadelphia, Brown—president of Rosedale’s Geiger Pump and Equipment—launched SaveCharmCityEats in Baltimore this week to help hard-hit restaurants recover.

Restaurants, bars, breweries, and grocers can opt in to SaveCharmCityEats.com by offering special experiences, deals, and incentives that customers can redeem after the pandemic subsides.

For the restaurant owners, this means an immediate infusion of capital, with 100 percent of the proceeds going directly to their spots and no hidden fees for the businesses or customers. For the patrons, it means something to look forward to once restaurants reopen and chefs are able to get back to work.

“There are so many great places here in Baltimore, the idea is to reconnect with that joy,” says Brown. “As a consumer, it’s fun to look at these offers. The other side of that coin is that the restaurants and chefs feel the joy that there are people who want their stuff. This is a way to give restaurants some vehicle, some hope so that when we do come back out the other side that little place down the street is open and we can get a great kabob, a great steak, or a great cocktail.”

Experiences (many one-of-a-kind) and incentives include a private Champagne brunch with Chef Cindy Wolf at Charleston, a cooking class with Cosima’s creative director Donna Crivello, a tempura omakase experience at Ekiben, a private whiskey tasting and barbecue dinner at Blue Pit BBQ, and an at-home experience with La Cuchara’s Ben Lefenfeld, who will prepare a seasonal, three-course meal.

The website, up and running for less than a day, currently has some 30 restaurants participating—from Tagliata in Harbor East to Le Comptoir du Vin in Station North. New spots will continue to join in the weeks to come.

“We are trying to be all-inclusive,” Brown says, “and give as much exposure to the little guys as the big ones.”

For his part, Brown says, “I have no financial interest. I’m not in the restaurant business. I’m not in marketing—I’m a mechanical engineer. I don’t want to come out the other side of this with a PR business. It has nothing to do with me other than wanting to help.”

As someone who loves dining out, Brown sees supporting our local restaurants as “culturally required.”

“We have a very unique food story to tell from South Baltimore to Highlandtown, Canton and Harbor East, Remington and Hampden,” he says. “And like many cities, but particularly in Baltimore, it’s a story that’s told really well from the small neighborhood spots to the big spots. What we are really hoping is that people value that as part of the culture just as you would value the Ravens or the Orioles or the BSO. It’s part of what makes living here so great.”

Save the Eats is being replicated in other cities, and also launches this week in Washington, D.C. Similar campaigns in New York City, Chicago, and Los Angeles will go live in the weeks to come.

When Clavel’s head bartender Dre Barnhill heard the news that the Remington mezcaleria had been nominated for a James Beard Award this morning, he was almost speechless. The beverage team is one of only 20 throughout the nation to be named a semifinalist in the category of Outstanding Bar Program, with other nominees spanning from the sophisticated Columbia Room in Washington, D.C. to the tiki-inspired Lost Lake in Chicago.

“My reaction? Oh, man, this is so cool,” Barnhill told us, still seeming to be in a slight daze. “There are such talented people on the list. I love some of those bars.”

Co-owner Lane Harlan was also admittedly shocked: “I don’t even know how this works,” she said. “I messaged the entire bar team. Half of them were awake, the other half were not, but I told them that they are amazing and that I’m so proud.”

Although this is Clavel’s first-ever nomination for the prestigious awards, it isn’t the only Baltimore name that appears on this year’s list of semifinalists. Chef Cindy Wolf, executive chef/owner of Charleston in Harbor East, also received her 12th nomination for Best Chef: Mid Atlantic. This time around, Wolf is up against contenders including chef Jon Sybert of D.C.’s Tail Up Goat and chef Matthew Kern of Heirloom in Lewes, Delaware.

While Wolf—who often quips that she’s the Susan Lucci of the category—has yet to bring home the medal, she remains humbled to be recognized for her unique take on Lowcountry cuisine at Charleston.

“Every time I am up for the award, all I can think is that I want to get up on that stage so I can honor and thank my Dad,” she says, “and all the people I work with who are also my family. Hopefully I’ll get to wear those new red jeweled shoes again that I found for Duff [Goldman’s] wedding.”

Clavel co-owners Harlan and chef Carlos Raba are also humbled by the acknowledgement, both emphasizing how proud they are of their staff.

“Our team works their butts off in the bar,” Raba says. “They have workshops for hours planning beers and cocktails. We never expected this, but it reflects the hard work that they do and the passion for the team—it’s such an honor.”

Since opening in 2015, Clavel has not only gained a reputation for having some of the most authentic Mexican cuisine around, but it’s also become known as the restaurant that put mezcal on the map in Baltimore. The group is so dedicated to the spirit, in fact, that they take routine trips to Mexico each year to meet with farmers and become more familiar with the intricacies of the agave plant.

“Our goal is to make things that are inspired by our journeys and these collections of memories that we have together,” Barnhill says. “Clavel just seems to have this certain kind of magnetism that draws people in.”

All of the on-site research is showcased in Clavel’s new expanded mezcaleria, where Barnhill and his team offer one-hour tasting sessions from their library that is categorized by species of agave plants.

“We don’t do what we do to get an award, that’s so alien to us,” Harlan says. “What drives us is that we push each other and do the best we can. That’s our world, and it’s pretty rad for that to be acknowledged.”

Harlan also mentions that working together creatively is a huge part of the restaurant’s success.

“We do everything collectively,” she says. “From day one that has been the number one driving factor. We’re continually evolving, holding each other accountable, embracing experimentation, and sharing ideas. We all accept criticism and take it as a challenge to be better.”

Finalists in each category will be announced on Wednesday, March 27, and this year’s James Beard Awards Gala will take place in Chicago on Monday, May 6. No matter the outcome (here’s hoping both Wolf and the crew at Clavel medal this year), the nominations are already a huge win for the Baltimore restaurant scene at large.

“When we started people said that it would be impossible to have a good place in the middle of nowhere,” Raba says. “And now to be recognized not only for the hard work that we do, but nationally, it’s amazing.”

On Saturday, our own pastry chef-turned-Food Network star Duff Goldman tied the knot in his new home of California. He married writer Johnna Colbry at the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County.

According to Martha Stewart Weddings, the couple exchanged vows in the museum’s Dinosaur Hall before cutting into five wedding cakes, including a traditional white six-tier, an underwater-themed confection suspended from the ceiling, and a savory, meat-filled groom’s cake with mashed potato “icing” and bacon roses.

Though the wedding was a few time zones away, some important members of Goldman’s Baltimore family were able to make the trip out west to celebrate.

Among them was chef Cindy Wolf, Goldman’s mentor whom he credits with jumpstarting his career: “Cindy is 100 percent directly responsible for my success,” Goldman told us in a 2015 preview of his cookbook Duff Bakes: Think and Bake Like a Pro at Home, which he dedicated to Wolf. “She changed my life. If I hadn’t met her, who knows where I’d be right now.”

Wolf, the James Beard-nominated executive chef of Charleston in Harbor East, took to Instagram to share well wishes after attending. “One of the best weddings ever!” Wolf captioned her post. “Duff—I am so very happy for you and I love you!” In response, Goldman commented: “Thanks for being there chef. You mean more to me than I think you know.”

“Duff’s wedding was just as creative, beautiful and loving as anyone could wish,” Wolf later told us. “It was an honor to be included, and I could not be more happy for him.”

The chefs first met in the late-’90s, when Wolf hired Goldman to bake biscuits and muffins at her now-closed restaurant Savannah in Fells Point. Back then, Goldman’s only relevant experience was working at fast-food eateries.

“I didn’t even know what a pastry chef was,” said Goldman, who later rose to fame when the Food Network decided to produce a show about his Remington bakeshop, Charm City Cakes. “Thanks to Cindy, I started to understand baking fundamentals.”

Goldman’s career came full circle in 2015 with the release of his book, which features an adaptation of the cornbread recipe that he began his career making for Wolf at Savannah.

“She took a chance on me when I really didn’t know how to cook, like, at all,” he writes in the introduction. “She made me bake the cornbread for the restaurant, and it taught me that no matter what you’re doing, do it the best you can. To be honest, every time I open the oven, I’m doing something that Cindy taught me how to do.”

Right after the wedding, Goldman and his new bride jetted off to Thailand. They’ll return so the chef can film for a few weeks before their second honeymoon takes them around the world.

“I’m excited to go on adventures with my best friend,” Colbry told People magazine. “I think that’s going to be fun.”

NAME CH-CH CHANGES

Gnocchetto: After some confusion arose with a restaurant of a similar name in New York City, Gnocco in Highlandtown recently changed its name to Gnocchetto—which translates to “small dumpling” in Italian. “We think it will just be easier in the long run,” said general manager Sam White, in a statement. Despite the name change, the Mediterranean-inspired spot is sticking to its roots with worldly wines, antipasti, and a slew of locally sourced pastas that use milled rye and red wheat flour from Migrash Farms in Randallstown. In fact, chef Brian Lavin recently expanded the pasta offerings to include four options per evening. Be on the lookout for a new red beet tagliatelle with swiss chard or the Semolina trofie with arugula, basil pesto, pine nuts, and summer truffle. 3734 Fleet St., 443-449-6540

Sobeachy Haitian Cuisine: Festival-goers might be familiar with Green Grass Tall Trees, the Haitian-Caribbean purveyor that has served up its authentic eats at large-scale events including Light City, Artscape, and AFRAM. (It also routinely pops up at the Canton Waterfront, Fells Point, and Pratt Street farmers’ markets.) Recently, husband-and-wife owners Leo and Chanel Fleurimond changed the pop-up’s name to Sobeachy Haitian Cuisine to better reflect the vibe to their customers. “Everyone always confused us with a juice bar with wheat grass or a landscaping company,” Chanel says with a laugh. “We wanted to have a name that connects to exactly what we are.” Diners can catch Sobeachy at R. House throughout the weekend to sample signature dishes including smoked turkey sausage with sweet peppers, the “Taste of Haiti” plate with stewed chicken and plantains, and the customer-favorite “Endless Summer” refresher that combines pineapple, watermelon, lemonade, and tropical fruit juices. 301 W. 29th St.

NEWS

16 On The Park: Savor every last second of summer on the patio of this rooftop restaurant on the Johns Hopkins Medical Campus—which switched up its menu earlier this week. The new seasonal menu will be offered all day, and include a special list of late-night eats on Fridays and Saturdays from 10-11 p.m. New items to look out for include a seafood tower for two, a cobb salad with Old Bay ranch, and a house burger topped with cheddar and crispy tobacco onion. Pair all of the eats with new Charm City-inspired cocktails like the “Spirit of B More” (Maestro Dobel reposado, fruit rouge crush juice, and ancho reyes) or “A Little Crush in the Park,” a spin on a classic Orange Crush with house tangerine foam. 800 N. Wolfe St. 443-524-8450

EPICUREAN EVENTS

9/5-12: Chef Wolf’s Special Southern Menu at Charleston
Chef Cindy Wolf is celebrating the end of summer with a special Southern menu at Charleston in Harbor East. For one week only, diners are invited to feast on a prix-fixe menu highlighting buttermilk-marinated chicken, Gambian roasted eggplant and groundnut soup, Creole shrimp with andouille sausage, blackened red snapper, slow-cooked pork shoulder, and drunken peaches in a whiskey sorbet. Optional wine pairings will be available to help wash down all of the Lowcountry fare. 1000 Lancaster St. 410-332-7373. $94

9/12: Kitchen Table Series at Wit & Wisdom
This weekly series of intimate dinners is returning to Wit & Wisdom inside the Four Seasons Baltimore next week. The kickoff will have a family-style Italian theme and feature a menu executed by chef Randall Matthews. Snag a spot at the 12-seat table to indulge in white truffle arancini, wild mushroom polenta, hand-rolled spaghetti with crushed red pepper flakes, Mediterranean bass with San Marzano tomatoes, and chocolate and citrus cannolis. 200 International Drive. 6:30 p.m. 410-576-5800.

9/26: Sicilian Cooking Classes at Cosima
Throw on an apron and join chef Donna Crivello to learn about the flavors and cooking techniques inspired by her Sicilian heritage. The inaugural cooking class later this month will feature traditional Sicilian plates including seared scallops, saffron risotto, and limoncello ricotta cheesecake. The monthly series will continue with an Autumn Dinner in October, a small plates seminar in November, and a classic Feast of the Seven Fishes class to celebrate the holidays in December. Cosima, 3000 Falls Rd. 6:30 p.m. 443-708-7352, $85.

SHUT

The Fudgery: This weekend will be the last for Baltimoreans to hear the confectioners at The Fudgery sing while turning chocolate at Harborplace. After 33 years inside the Light Street Pavilion, the sweets shop will shutter its doors for good this Sunday, September 9. “Unfortunately, time changes things and there is not enough of our customer base to support a profitable operation,” The Fudgery founder and CEO A.C. Marshall said in a press release. Aside from its house-made fudge and colorful candy apples, The Fudgery will be remembered for being the shop that spawned homegrown R&B sensation Dru Hill—whose members practiced their songs while working there in the early ’90s. While Harborplace has seen many vendors close throughout its ongoing renovation process, new retailers including Build-A-Bear and Mason’s Famous Lobster Rolls are planning to set up shop in the development in the coming weeks. 301 Light St.

Maybe lucky number seven will come in handy for Chef Cindy Wolf, who yet again was named a James Beard semifinalist for Best Chef Mid-Atlantic. Wolf is being honored for her work at Harbor East Lowcountry restaurant Charleston for the seventh consecutive year.

“I am so excited, but there is one more step,” Chef Wolf told us, referring to the narrowed down finalist list that comes out on March 14. “I am happy that my kitchen and front-of-house staff at Charleston are being recognized for their hard work.”

As a seasoned vet of the James Beard Awards gala—taking place on May 7—Wolf says she doesn’t have many pre-show rituals, except for enjoying the great food and drink in the city of Chicago. She does, however, always purchase a new dress for the occasion.

“I was thinking I may buy a cocktail dress this year,” she says. “I bought shoes in Paris in the fall and would wear those.”

Though not superstitious, Wolf does always think about what she might say if she were to take home the big prize. 

“I think about the people that have helped me in my career—my father, family , Marcelo Vasquez, the chefs in Charleston where I did my apprenticeship, and also my cooks and Tony,” she says. “And I think about what might be an important message for people thinking about getting into the business.”

Wolf is the only Baltimore chef to be recognized, but is up against another Maryland chef in her category—Tony Conte of Inferno Pizzeria Napoletana in Gaithersburg.

“What a great Thursday,” the Howard County restaurant exclaimed on its Facebook page. “We’re extraordinarily grateful to be listed among these other tremendous culinary greats.”

Best of luck to all the dining dynamos who were named as semi-finalists today, but our fingers are crossed extra hard for Chef Wolf.

Buh-bye boring, baggy black-pants-and-white-shirt combos. Local restaurants are getting as creative with their staff wardrobes as they are with their menus. Here are some of our favorite fashion finds from area kitchens.

Bandanas at Charleston: After losing her locks to breast cancer, chef Cindy Wolf started wearing colorful bandanas to protect her pate, and the kitchen staff showed solidarity by wearing them, too. Eighteen years later, the tradition continues.

Aprons and plaid shirts at Woodberry Kitchen: Vintage aprons (for the women on the waitstaff) and plaid shirts (for the gents) help carry through the farm-to-table focus and homegrown feel.

Under Armour kicks at Azumi: At this Japanese hot spot, red high-tops show hometown pride for the billion-dollar, Baltimore-based brand; also, red is a sacred color in the Land of the Rising Sun.

True blue at Ouzo Bay: The blue ties worn by the waitstaff and bartenders reflect the cerulean coastal waters of the Aegean.

Desert duds at Clavel: Lane Harlan encourages her staff to be playful with the dress code, hence her bartender’s cactus shirt.

Feel the burn at La Cuchara: These bold red aprons invoke the red flag of the Basque Country; the red-and-charcoal-gray palette, including the server’s shirts, were also picked to mimic the colors inside the restaurant’s wood-burning grill.

Hours before dinner service begins, Cindy Wolf prepares herself for a night of feeding 95 guests at Charleston. With a bar mop thrown over her left shoulder and pavé diamond studs adding a hint of sparkle to her ears, she moves meticulously around the kitchen, preparing a cognac cream sauce, taste-testing a sliver of Vallée d’Aspe cheese, and showing her staff how to artfully arrange a ballotine made of chicken and foie gras with chicken-liver mousse.

“People debate over whether cooking is art, but I know it’s art for me,” says Wolf her resonant voice a vestige of early childhood singing lessons. “It’s not that I reinvent things—I’m creative from the standpoint of working with a product that just came in the door or doing something with a foie gras that I’ve never done before—that’s the art form.”

Charleston is Baltimore’s high temple of fine dining, a sacred space of sorts for classic French food with Southern inflections. And Wolf, arguably Baltimore’s most highly hailed chef (major industry awards, a guest gig at the White House, personal praise from Julia Child and wine guru Robert Parker), presides as priestess of the palace. She’s also the person, along with co-owner and ex-husband Tony Foreman, often credited with creating a restaurant renaissance in town when the two of them operated Savannah at the Admiral Fell Inn in 1995, followed by the ownership of their first restaurant, Charleston, two years later. (The duo also own Pazo, Cinghiale, Johnny’s, and two Petit Louis Bistros as part of their Foreman Wolf Restaurant Group.)

Ask other chefs about Wolf and hero worship ensues. “From early on, Cindy set a new standard for Baltimore dining,” says John Shields, chef/owner of Gertrude’s and a native Marylander. “She’s an extraordinarily talented chef with a passion for excellence, both with food and service.” Adds Linwood Dame of Linwoods, “When Cindy brought her skills to the city, she elevated Baltimore’s dining scene with her passion for cooking, her quest for excellence, and her commitment to quality. She is an inspiration to young chefs, especially women, who are gaining ground in a traditionally male profession.”

Wolf has earned accolades outside of Charm City, as well: She’s a three-time James Beard Award finalist for Best Chef: Mid-Atlantic—the first chef in Baltimore to be nominated, though she says that she has long lost count of how many times she’s actually been up for the award. (“I’m like Susan Lucci,” she cracks.) And through the years, famous fans have flocked to Charleston including actor Daniel Craig, who visited while in town to promote Skyfall. “I served him a special course so I could take it out to the table,” she says smiling. “I took a slow walk to the table.”

But while she’s happy to let her perfectly executed plates of pan-roasted magret of duck catch the stardust, she’s not someone who loves putting herself in the limelight. In the words of her longtime employee, Charleston captain Peter Keck, “She’s the first to say, ‘It’s not about me—it’s about what we produce and what we do.’ She’s not inking out a book deal or a TV spot.”

When she’s not at Charleston, most mornings Wolf sits at her kitchen table in her elegant 1905 Roland Park home (you could call it “the house that beurre blanc built”) eating bacon and eggs, as she writes the next day’s menu and pores over one of the hundreds of cookbooks—Child, Alain Ducasse, and Joël Robuchon—she keeps in her library for inspiration.

This chalk-gray morning, however, away from the hustle and bustle of her otherwise hectic life, Wolf is makeup free and in casual clothes, caught in a moment of quiet reflection. While she has struggled with the idea of revealing painful issues that have formed the subtext of her life, the famously private chef has decided it’s finally time to get personal.

“Having cancer is central to my story,” says Wolf, who has not come to this confession easily and has the clarity that comes with years of contemplation. “Growing up in my family, we didn’t talk about illness, and the only reason I could think about talking about it was because Angelina [Jolie] wrote that article in The New York Times [about getting a preventative double mastectomy]. Now, I’m willing to talk about my health and how my life has progressed, because I’m very fortunate.”

Four months after realizing her life’s dream of opening her own restaurant with Charleston in 1997, Wolf, now 50, was diagnosed with breast cancer. She was 33 years old at the time. Right away, her primary concern was for her staff and the fate of the newly opened restaurant. Other than family and close friends, Wolf guarded the diagnosis closely. Tony Foreman recalls their discussion at the time. “When Charleston opened she said, ‘I don’t want to be known as ‘the cancer chef.’ I just want to be known as ‘a great chef,’” he says. The cancer, says Wolf, was “very aggressive—I’m lucky I lived through it. The day I went in for my first chemo, I felt like I was going in for a lethal injection—I was scared.” Then, in 2008, there was more bad news. “It was not a recurrence, but a new cancer 10 years later,” she says. “The second time, I just didn’t talk about it at all.”

Despite undergoing extensive and grueling treatments including chemotherapy, multiple surgeries, and rounds of radiation, Wolf found solace in Charleston’s kitchen, her diagnosis lending her already prized work a new depth. “I worked every day,” says Wolf, whose Charleston kitchen staff wore bandanas to cover their heads in solidarity with their then-bald boss (and continue the sartorial tradition to this day).

“That was part of what helped me to survive,” she says. “I needed that distraction. I needed to do what I loved, even though when I would walk through the back hallway and smell chicken stock I would be nauseated.” She recalls: “There’s a reason I didn’t go out to the dining room very much back then. When you lose your hair as a woman, you don’t feel very good about yourself—it’s very hard to go through. When you lose your hair, you don’t feel normal anymore, and you have this screaming card that says, ‘I have cancer.’”

In addition to feeling fortified by Jolie, Wolf’s older sister, Julia, recently encouraged her to open up about her experience. “My sister said that I should talk about my story,” sighs Wolf. “I’ve been through some very serious struggles in my life, and my sister felt that, if nothing else, other people could see that I worked though being sick twice. If it happened for me, it might happen for them, too.”

As she discusses her life, her rescue tabby cat Louis Deux nesting on a posh pile of pillows nearby, Wolf seems a study in contrasts. She is demanding in the kitchen—“I expect the best, but I apply that pressure to myself, as well,” she says—but she tempers that toughness with a softer side. (“Be patient with people,” she often reminds herself. “Especially waiters.”) She’s serious (“intense, bright-eyed, and not fooling around,” is how Foreman describes her), but also disarmingly funny. (“You’ll cry [with joy] if you eat my scrambled eggs,” she says. “My brother-in-law once asked me if I had added whipped cream to them.”) She’s cagey about naming what kind of cereal she eats (“I’m not telling you,” she says when asked to substantiate a certain rumor regarding her affection for sugary cereal), but fearless when it comes to discussing the most intimate parts of her past.

She also bemoans the fact that when you’re a top chef, no one wants to cook for you. “No one invites me to dinner,” Wolf says, “and, yes, I do want people to invite me over. I don’t know what I’d do if someone invited me to dinner at this point—I’d probably be nervous myself.”

Early on, Wolf learned about loss. When the Virginia-born chef was six years old, her eldest sister, Cathy, died of leukemia. “That was at a time when people didn’t talk about someone having a health situation like that,” says Wolf, “and that shaped my thoughts about illness later.”

Despite the loss of her sister, Wolf says she had a “wonderful, happy, healthy childhood,” and one in which food was at the fore. Her mother, Jean, was a stay-at-home mom and an excellent cook known for her Pennsylvania Dutch recipes, including potpies and homemade chicken-noodle corn soup. “My mom’s job was to cook,” she says, “and that’s what she did, so I grew up loving food.” Her late father, Robert, who was the vice president of Hardee’s Restaurants, and her absolute idol, was also a strong influence. “My father did tremendous things in that position,” she says, admiration still evident in her voice. “This is a company that owned thousands of restaurants.”

By the time Wolf was in the fourth grade, her father had taken a new job as the vice president of Ponderosa Steakhouse, dictating a move to Northern Indiana, and, eventually, Charleston, SC. “My father did a lot of business in Chicago, so I ate in all the good restaurants in Chicago at a time when French restaurants were still popular in the United States,” says Wolf, who grew up eating at the membership-only Whitehall Club and the storied Le Perroquet.

In the fabled dining rooms, she soaked in the splendor. “You would walk in and all the waiters would be in tuxedos,” she recalls of the Whitehall Club, “and the restaurant was beautiful. It was dark and opulent with crystal everywhere and beautiful woodwork. There was a beautiful mahogany bar on the right and a big round table in the center that always had smoked salmon laid out.” She also indulged in other items that few kids her age were consuming. “I was eating sweetbreads,” says Wolf. “I was eating hearts of palm. I was eating smoked salmon as an eighth grader.” It was that early exposure that helped Wolf acquire a sophisticated sense of taste, as well as tremendous insight into the industry. “I was very fortunate that I had these experiences, because I was developing a palate and an understanding of what is good food and an understanding of the table and what great service is,” she says. “I’ve been around food my entire life. I was born to be a chef.”

With the goal of one day opening her own restaurant, Wolf pursued a degree in business management at the University of Evansville, but academics eluded her. “I sat there and dreamed of the two cookbooks my mother had sent me away with,” she recalls. “I dreamed of Le Perroquet and talked to my friends about the restaurant I wanted to do.”

Realizing that college wasn’t her calling, she dropped out by 1984 and moved home to Charleston, soon landing an apprenticeship at Silks, a high-end Low Country cuisine restaurant in the legendary Planters Inn, then the city’s finest dining establishment. Although Wolf was 19 at the time, and had never worked in a kitchen, she impressed the sous chef. “She said, ‘With your background eating at all these restaurants all your life, you’re going to be a great cook,’” recounts Wolf. “She said, ‘I’m hiring you.’”

Starting as garde-manger working at the cold station (and eventually working at all stations), Wolf learned lessons she draws on to this day. “I learned everything,” she says. “Everything about speed. Everything about being organized. Everything about doing things the best possible way you could do them. I learned the discipline of working in an excellent kitchen.”

After a year and a half at Silks, Wolf furthered her knowledge formally at the prestigious Culinary Institute of America (CIA) in 1985, where she first became enamored with classic French cooking and the principles of Auguste Escoffier, the father of modern French cooking. “Every day I walked through the front doors of that school, I loved every single minute,” she says. “It was my foundation.”

From the CIA, Wolf moved on to fine-dining jobs in Charleston, Knoxville, TN, (where she became an executive chef by 25), and Washington, D.C., where she met Foreman, who was managing the Southern spot Georgia Brown’s. The duo, who moved to Baltimore in 1994 to start Savannah, were married for 15 years, and though the personal partnership didn’t work out, the professional partnership has continued to flourish and the two remain friends, making frequent trips to Europe for the business every year and even cohosting the weekly radio show Foreman and Wolf on Food and Wine on WYPR. Did they ever consider not working together after their divorce? “No,” asserts Wolf. “Never. Not once.”

Wolf has nothing but respect for the man who proposed six months after their first meeting. “Tony is one of the best at what he does that I’ve ever known,” she says. “And his love of the table is the same as my love of the table. At the same time, we are two very different people, which is why I think we make very good business partners. He is extremely intelligent and very knowledgeable. We are both strong-willed, so we both have our opinions and ideas, but I think those two things coming together make for a very good idea. It’s a pleasure for me to work with Tony.”

Back at Charleston, just before dinner service, Wolf—that’s “Chef Wolf” in this domain to everyone including Foreman—puts her ideas into play, leaving nothing to chance as she reviews the night’s lineup during “menu meeting.” “I put the roasted red-beet tartare on the plate,” she explains as staffers furiously scribble in notebooks while sitting in Charleston’s luxe dining room after “employee meal” (the staff meal before dinner service). “That’s ‘tartare’ in quotes—it’s not really raw, it just looks like tuna tartare. It’s a brunoise of roasted red beets mixed with just a tiny bit of mayonnaise, salt, pepper, capers, a brunoise of cornichons, and a little bit of chives.” She goes on, as her staff hangs on every word. “It will have a blood-orange supreme as a garnish made of a reduction of orange juice, fresh pomegranate that I puréed in the blender to make fresh juice, and a little bit of sugar, so it’s a pomegranate-and-blood-orange reduction.”

Twenty minutes or so later, she’s lectured on the intricacies of not only that dish, but the entire menu (at which point, maître d’hotel Kalada Nemieboka quizzes the staff, dish by dish, as they practice their patter for patrons). “She is super focused on ingredients and their expression,” says Foreman.

Regardless of the context, absolute excellence is her aim. Erik Oosterwijk, president of Fells Point Wholesale Meats, has worked with Wolf for years. “Even in a relaxed setting, like when she’s working to please the crowd at a Christmas party at her house, she’s very serious about food, because she wants it to be perfect,” he says. “It’s amazing to watch her as a tray of goodies comes out of the kitchen. Even at home, she’s checking them out as if they were going to the dining room at Charleston—it all has to be just so.”

And though Wolf and Foreman are credited with kicking off Baltimore’s food scene and were sourcing products locally long before “locavore” became a part of the lexicon, Wolf doesn’t pay much attention to it. “I don’t know what the scene is, and I have never known what the scene is because I have worked the entire time I have lived here,” she says. “In the 20 years I’ve lived here, I can name how many times I’ve eaten somewhere other than my own restaurants. When I was married, we traveled to Europe when we weren’t working.”

With dinner service in full swing, Wolf takes her command post in front of the pass line. Like a well-timed pas de deux, she calls out orders and inspects each Bernardaud plate (made with real copper, gold, and platinum powder) before runners take them to the tables. “Nine rockfish, two turbot, two duck,” she calls out, as she instructs a runner on the proper angle to deliver the magret of duck and then repositions the garnish with tweezers. “Keep the medallions at six o’clock, with the steep grade of greens in front of the guest,” she says, choreographing every movement.

As kitchens go, Wolf’s is markedly quiet and calm. “She’s not hellfire and slamming things around,” says Keck. “She is there for the betterment of the staff.” And to please her patrons. “Feeding people is the reward for cooking,” she says. “People telling you that that’s the best they’ve ever had is the most incredible thing.”

Though Charleston’s inner sanctum is a hushed place, Wolf can’t contain her passion for food. “I love the way that food looks,” she gushes. “I love cutting open a truffle and seeing what the interior of that particular truffle looks like. I love the smell of it. I love the way it feels in my hands. I love the sound of it—I love every part of it.”

As Charleston celebrates its eighteenth year of success, Wolf is far from ready to throw in the (kitchen) towel. In fact, she’s just warming up. “I hope 18 years at Charleston is only the beginning,” she says with conviction. “I don’t plan on going anywhere. I hope I am still in the kitchen when I am 70, and all the guys that work for me, too—may they never leave.”