From the late 1970s through the mid 1980s, much of my childhood was spent frequenting the local corner stores. My friends and I would go after school and all throughout the summer. All the neighborhoods—Canton, Highlandtown, and what is now Brewers Hill—were positively full of them.

The corner stores I remember sold groceries, meats, snacks, drinks, milk, sodas, snowballs, candy, and even Pinky Hi-Bounce balls, metal jacks game sets, and wooden paddle balls. As a young child, I ate ice cream kiddie cups with a wooden spoon, and as a teen, I devoured snowballs—but only certain flavors: sky blue (which tasted, well, blue), grape, spearmint, or egg custard topped with marshmallow.

Even though corner stores were prevalent in Southeast Baltimore, there’s surprisingly not a lot of written history about them. So, I decided to go straight to the source and reached out to six families of corner store owners to get a real feel for what life was like for them.

URBAN VILLAGES
Retired Senator Barbara Mikulski essentially grew up in a corner store. Her parents, William and Chris Mikulski, purchased their first shop, Willy’s, as newlyweds in 1935. It was located at 718 S. Eaton St., in what is today Brewers Hill.

“People didn’t have cars, so they lived in urban villages, where everything was within walking distance, and they shopped in the same area,” says Mikulski. “There were little mom-and-pop stores on the corners that met basic needs—a baker’s shop, a grocery store, a shoe repair, etc. Then there was the Avenue [Eastern Avenue] where we would shop for the rest.”

Mikulski’s parents purchased a house near the shop at 715 S. Eaton St., and they rented out the apartment above Willy’s. “You usually rented to a relative or somebody you knew from work or church,” she says.

According to Eric Holcomb, author of The City as Suburb: A History of Northeast Baltimore Since 1660, before the 20th century, there was no “separation of uses” in terms of zoning. “That’s why corner stores could have your house, your store, and even your warehouse in the same building,” says Holcomb.

In Willy’s early days, Mikulski’s father ran the store, and her mom kept the books while taking care of their daughters and household. When the store got busy, “Miss Chris,” as she was known to the neighborhood kids, helped out. I remember her always throwing a candy bar into the paper bag filled with my mom’s purchases.

While they initially sold canned goods and meats, as her father was an accomplished butcher, Mikulski says that her parents were forward-thinking when it came to the business.

“When World War II was over, my mother told my father that women were going to move from canned goods to frozen food. My father had one of the first freezers in the neighborhood in that store,” Mikulski says.

If her parents knew someone was ill, they would send young Barbara to their homes with their orders. They wouldn’t let her accept a tip. “You’re the grocer’s daughter. Be kind and be helpful,” they’d tell her.

Mikulski remembers the basement of their corner store being used as a fallout shelter during WWII for vulnerable populations.

“My father was an air raid warden. He and one of the other guys in their late 20s would patrol the neighborhood. And if there was ever an air-raid siren, my father’s place was one of the designated shelters,” she says. “The elderly or anyone with children would go into the basement and wait until the air raid was over. There were canned goods down there for them if needed. Whether it would’ve ever really worked, who knows?”

Her parents retired and sold the store in the early 1970s. For a while, it was used to sell meats and for catering. Now, it’s a private home that you’d never know was once a corner store.

“People didn’t have cars, so they lived where everything was within walking distance and shopped in the same area. There were mom-and-pop stores on the corners that met basic needs.”

SUPPORTING HER FAMILY
In 1957, Baltimore City firefighter Lee MacKenzie died of a heart issue. Like many men of his generation, he was the sole supporter of his family. Although she received a small amount of money from the Widow and Orphan’s Fund, his widow, Mary Magdalene “Lena” MacKenzie, needed to support her children.

So, MacKenzie bought an already existing store at 3225 Foster Ave. at the corner of Foster Ave. and Bouldin St. in Highlandtown. At the time, she and her children lived nearby at 3217 Foster Ave. and rented out the upstairs apartment above the store. Four years later, when her daughter Elinor married Jim Benzing, MacKenzie sold them that house, and she and her daughter Maria moved into the accommodations directly behind the store, while continuing to rent the upstairs.

Known as MacKenzie’s Confectionery, the store sold only key essentials since there was an A&P grocery store nearby. That included milk, bread, and eggs, plus a soda fountain—where she and Maria would make fountain sodas, milkshakes, hand-dipped ice cream, ice cream floats, and snowballs.

“When the egg man dropped off eggs to grandma’s [store], he would drop eggs off at our house too,” recalls Chris Benzing, her grandson. “I thought the egg man came to everyone’s house, because for us that was normal.”

Behind the counter, MacKenzie sold packs of cigarettes, some canned goods, cereal, soap, detergent, toilet paper, and other shelf-stable items. She also sold knickknacks, small toys, and greeting cards on a spinning rack.

Like many corner store owners, she didn’t keep stock in bulk, as vendors would come by weekly and take orders on what she needed. The next week, they’d deliver them. According to Mikulski, this is why many stores were on the corner of blocks or alleys—to make delivery easy.

The MacKenzies lived in the small apartment—living room, galley kitchen, one bedroom—behind the store, through a doorway that was always open. Their bathroom, with its clawfoot tub, was in the basement, which was also used for storage.

“The basement was the scariest. We raced through it. It wasn’t finished, and it just had their bathroom and furnace,” says Leah Benzing, a granddaughter.

“That’s where she also had all the flavors for the snowballs in big containers on a table,” adds Barbara Smith, another granddaughter.

The store front had a doorbell attached, which would ring in the kitchen. That way, if their grandmother and Maria were having lunch when the store was empty, they would know when a customer arrived.

In 1975, MacKenzie sold her store to one of her vendors, and it became Dawn’s Confectionery, named after the owner’s daughter. It’s now a rowhome.

MISS CASS’
In 1961, three months after Theresa Buerhaus Pratt was born, she and her four siblings moved with their parents to a corner store at 3800 Fait Ave. and Eaton St. in what is now Brewers Hill. Her father, George, worked full-time, and her mom, Cass, stayed home with the kids. Officially called Buerhaus Confectionery Store, it was known by the neighborhood as Miss Cass’ or just Cass’.

Although it was less than a block away from Mikulski’s parent’s shop, Miss Cass sold items the nearby store didn’t have, like comic books, newspapers, Tasty Kakes, and cigarettes. There was also a glass case of penny candy, and they sold snowballs out of the garage on the back of the house.

During many summer breaks, Pratt would work at the snowball stand three days a week from 10 a.m. until 10 p.m. Before opening, she’d mix the marshmallow and mix flavors. Upon closing, she would count the money, roll the coins, and wipe everything down with bleach.

“But I got paid $5 a day,” says Pratt proudly.

Behind the store was their living room, kitchen, and the garage. Upstairs were three bedrooms, one for the four girls (who slept in two double beds), the middle room for their brother, and the back one for their parents. While she enjoyed living at the store, Pratt says there was one downside. The store opened directly into their living room, and her mom insisted on keeping one of the French doors open at all times.

“She would never close it, and it would drive us nuts because you’d be sitting there on the couch trying to watch TV or doing your homework, and if someone wasn’t right in the store to wait on them, they’d stick their heads into our living room while saying, ‘Anybody home?’” says Pratt.

In the late 1970s, Miss Cass moved the snowballs inside the store. She began selling Stewart Sandwiches, a popular, pre-packaged, refrigerated brand of pizza, hot dogs, and grilled cheese sandwiches, which customers like me would take out of the fridge and hand to Miss Cass for toasting. Even though they were cooked in the plastic, my friends and I thought they were absolutely delicious.

As time passed, people were driving more to stores, so they weren’t visiting Cass’ as much and business really dropped off. Pratt says her mom even tried to make it into a corner coffee shop, with coffees, teas, and pastries. But it just didn’t work. The store closed in 2014.

“My mom was so sad,” says Pratt. “She really loved all the kids who came to the store.”

STILL IN BUSINESS
Luigi Di Pasquale came to America from Italy when he was 14 years old. He worked for the railroad but didn’t like it and eventually left. In 1914, he opened a corner store at 3700 Claremont St. across from Our Lady of Pompei in Highlandtown. The building was so large, Luigi used the extra rooms as a boarding house for local men.

“We sold everything in the Italian line, from spaghetti on down,” says his son, Leo Di Pasquale, 95.

After Luigi married, he and his wife, Anna, had seven children, all of whom grew up to help at the store for a time.

“Every time mom had a baby, she kicked one of his borders out to make room for all of us—until it was all family,” says Leo with a laugh.

In the early days, besides selling groceries and candy, Leo says they had live chickens, turkeys, pigs, and goats available to be butchered for customers. Joe Di Pasquale, Leo’s nephew, who runs the family business now, says his grandparents also manufactured bleach in the alley.

In 1988, Joe and his brothers and sisters assumed ownership of the business from their dad, Luigi Jr., and moved it to 3700 Gough St., still in Highlandtown. Joe says over the years, suppliers gave them advice on how to keep the store running—stick with specialty items.

While Di Pasquale’s Italian Market still exists, it transitioned from the typical corner store to a deli and a casual eatery offering everything from subs and sandwiches to brick-oven pizzas and pasta dishes. They also grew to four locations.

“We expanded the kitchen and the menu, and we caught the prepared foods wave,” explains Joe.

Forno, which is still at the Gough St. location, is a little restaurant with a speakeasy feel. They kept a lot from the old corner store, so it looks like a museum of days gone by. And although the shop on Claremont St. has been gone for decades, it still sports a painted mural of the original Di Pasquale family and some of their wares.

“Everything in the neighborhood was close then,” says Leo. “And we were all there, working together in the store.”

THREE GENERATIONS OF LOU’S
Kristan Barbarino Wilson isn’t sure when her grandparents, Ida and Louis Barbarino, first opened Lou’s Confectionery corner store at 3401 Hudson St., but she remembers her parents, Joseph and Sharon, buying it from them in the mid-1970s.

Located across the street from what was then Canton #230 school and just a few blocks away from St. Brigid’s School, the store did a hearty business selling snacks, ice cream, soda, and candy to kids as well as canned goods, deli meat, steaks, pork chops, and cigarettes to adults.

Wilson’s grandparents lived on the first floor of the house next door, which the family also owned. Her family lived upstairs of both the shop and the house, as the second floor in each was connected. Wilson and her friends loved going into the store after closing time—truly kids in a candy store.

“We had central air in our house and store and the same phone number for both. When my parents got a phone call, but were in the store, we would yell through the air vent, ‘Pick up the phone!’” Wilson recalls with a laugh. “It was fun!”

NOT-ON-THE-CORNER STORE
In October of 1976, Libby and John Maciolek purchased Walt & Theresa’s, a store in the middle of the block at 3033-35 Hudson St. in Canton and renamed it John and Libby’s Confectionery. (Why many of these corner stores called themselves “confectioneries”—meaning a store that sells candy—no one seems to know, as they sold much more than sweets. Maybe they thought it sounded fancy.)

John and Libby’s carried groceries, canned goods, sodas, ice cream, snacks, and snowballs. In 1980, their daughter Laura Maciolek Stanton became manager, and her mom changed the store’s name again, this time to John and Libby’s Variety. In 1982, they expanded and began selling more groceries, packaged goods, penny candy, and seasonal toys.

During the spring and summer, Stanton remembers their tremendous snowball business that would have people lining down the block—especially for her mom’s homemade egg custard. Stanton, her sister, and their parents lived behind and above both sides of the store.

“My mom treated my friends like her daughters. We used to love having sleepovers because we’d come down after the store closed, and my friends could have all the ice cream, chips, and soda they wanted,” she recalls. “We had pinball machines, so it was almost like we had our own arcade, too.”

Stanton still owns the original penny machine from 1912. Many corner stores had them, and some were called “Bullseye.” Kids would put a penny in the top, and it would move down a pegboard, much like the Plinko game on The Price Is Right. If it landed in the right space at the bottom, you won a five- or ten-cent piece of candy.

As Canton was revitalized, fewer customers frequented their store. They couldn’t make a living anymore and closed in 2004. “When the community found out we were closing, they were devastated,” says Stanton. “There aren’t any stores like ours in Canton anymore. That was a different time.”

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

Some say a great meal starts with the eyes, which would be one explanation for the perpetual line in front of the display case at Di Pasquale’s in Highlandtown. A rainbow of colors bursts through the glass. Red grape tomatoes mixed with white balls of mozzarella and green basil leaves mirror the colors of the Italian flag. Bright purple octopus tentacles mingle with muted potatoes and fennel. Jet-black olives conjure visions of a moonless Tuscan night.

Others say it’s through the nose that a true epicurean experience begins, which could also explain that line. The aroma of focaccia bread baking at 600 degrees in the imported pizza oven fills the small dining area and narrow aisles with a scent so alluring it’s impossible to ignore. The rich smell of provolone and 30-month aged prosciutto seems to be ingrained in the walls, present even when the slicer isn’t running.

“You go in and it feels like Italy,” says Felicia Zannino-Baker, a Highlandtown art-gallery owner who has frequented the market and cafe all her life. “It smells like I’m in Italy. It sounds like I’m in Italy. It’s about all the senses.”

Ever since 23-year-old Luigi Di Pasquale opened a small corner store on Claremont Street in 1914, Di Pasquale’s has been a fixture in the neighborhood. But after a one-block move to Gough Street in 1988, its popularity exploded in the years following, and it has become much more.

For some, it’s a foodie destination for Italian classics such as eggplant Parm and pasta Bolognese, homemade pizza, and gourmet sandwiches you can hardly fit your mouth around. For others, it’s a spot where they can pop in to pick up fresh produce, bread, or a bottle of wine for dinner at home. And for still others, it’s a gathering place for locals to gossip, discuss sports and politics, or most of all, reminisce about the good old days.

In other words, it’s become an institution.

“I’m Italian, and coming here gives me a chance to express my ethnic heritage,” says retired Baltimore County Judge Lawrence Daniels (“In here, I’m Lorenzo Daniele,” he says in his best Old-World accent.) “I’m here with a lot of other like-minded people. Good friends, great people, great food. Joey’s the best.”

Joey is 61-year-old Joe Di Pasquale, the third-generation managing partner of the family-owned business. He’s a constant presence behind the counter, taking orders from customers, barking them out to employees, greeting newcomers as if they’re old-timers and old-timers as if they’re kin. He grew up in the business sweeping floors, stocking shelves, and delivering everything from beer nuts to beef jerky and pickled pigs’ feet to bars and houses in the area.

Since taking over the retail operation, he’s spearheaded its transition from neighborhood grocery and convenience store to culinary jewel. Now, he’s leading it through its biggest change yet: Di Pasquale’s is leaving Highlandtown.

Before you drop your cannoli, know that when it moves sometime after Easter, it’s going just 1.2 miles away, to a larger, newer space in Brewers Hill. Still, when the news broke last year, it felt like a seismic shift to those for whom the store is a part of everyday life.

“I can say with all my heart that I will miss them,” says 73-year-old Ida Longo, who’s been a regular since she arrived in Highlandtown from Italy a half-century ago. “I buy fresh bread and pasta and lunch meat. The mortadella is the best. It reminds me of when we were growing up in Italy. It has the same smell. Even if he’s going to move a little farther down the street, we are never going to leave Di Pasquale’s. We start with them and we die with them.”

How’s that for customer loyalty? Sabrina Di Pasquale, née Parravano, knows how Longo feels. She grew up in the neighborhood going to the original location before she fell for Joe and married him 29 years ago. She’s worked side by side with him—and his sisters, his brother, her sister, their children, the list goes on—for 33 years.

“At first, I didn’t think it was a very good idea,” she says of the move. “Not that we wouldn’t do well, but I didn’t want to leave the location. It has such wonderful memories. But I’m excited now. It’s not like the family is leaving Highlandtown. My son just bought a house in the neighborhood, my mom still lives in the neighborhood, my brother and sister still live in the neighborhood. We own property in the neighborhood. We’re still very connected to Highlandtown. We’re only a mile down the street. We’re not going to forget it.”

A painting of a serious-looking, older Luigi Di Pasquale hangs prominently in the Gough Street dining room. It’s almost as if he’s watching over his descendants, ensuring that they’re not screwing up what he started.

Joe never knew his grandfather, who passed away when Joe’s mother, Mary, was carrying him in 1959. But he’s heard the tales of his legendary work ethic and business acumen.

Luigi arrived in Highlandtown from Corropoli in the Abruzzo region of eastern Italy when he was 14. He was sponsored by a family with five children, so eight people lived in the rowhouse on Claremont Street. The bathroom was outside.

When he started the business, he sold chickens and goats that were tied up out front. He also made vats of bleach, which was commonly used for cleaning at the time. Joe’s father, Louis, (Luigi to his Italian friends), and his brothers, Carmen, Leo, Johnny, and Salvatore, were born into the business.

“Everyone had a part, whether you liked it or not,” Joe says. The same can be said of Joe and his five siblings, who grew up two doors down from the store on Claremont Street before the family moved to White Marsh in 1966.

“I remember working side by side with my father,” says Rob Di Pasquale, the youngest of the three boys. “I learned making change the old-fashioned way, [in] a cigar box. Before I could drive, I’d ride shotgun when we made deliveries to local restaurants to help unload the truck. Everything had to be done in a small family-owned business.”

Twenty-year-old Joe caught the family business bug while spending a summer in Italy. When he returned, he felt “more Italian than my parents” and helped convince his father that the business needed more space to grow. So, somewhat reluctantly, his dad moved it from the 3700 block of Claremont Street to the 3700 block of Gough Street. The new location, formerly a hardware store, offered more than five times the space.

Success was not instantaneous. The model they’d transported from the old location—selling household goods along with food—kept sales stagnant. Joe credits the financial support of his father and the family’s patience with helping the business survive leaner times.

“We built to fill every square inch. It was packed in here,” Joe says. “It was a slow grind at first. I remember when the front person would buzz us in the back when somebody came in. That’s how quiet it was. I got some advice from someone who said you cannot compete with the supermarkets, so get rid of the toilet paper and the dish detergent and focus on specialty foods. That was good advice.”

Was it ever. Joe began to search out vendors who offered top-notch products. He began importing more and more items directly from Italy, like olive oil and tomatoes. When he saw that people were trending away from cooking and instead searching for prepared foods, he began offering sandwiches and pasta salads for takeout or to eat at a lone table he set up.

“What started it all was the Real Italian,” Joe says of the salami, pepper ham, mortadella, capicola, and provolone sub that’s still one of Di Pasquale’s signature items. “We use the proper vegetables. We don’t use the wax tomatoes, we use good tomatoes. We use the red onion rather than just the cheap white onion. It’s one of those sandwiches where you crave it. It’s like a meat salad on bread with the dressing.”

By the mid to late ’90s, Di Pasquale’s popularity was soaring. It included a wholesale business, run by Rob, catering, and the retail operation. Joe decided to open a second store in a converted theater in Pikesville, which proved to be a disastrous decision. Just heating and cooling the space, with its 24-foot-ceilings, cost a fortune.

“It was a tough time,” he says. “I’m still feeling it. I got too big for my britches. It
almost destroyed me financially, and almost family-wise.”

Butting heads is inevitable in a family business, and it has happened more than once through the years to the Di Pasquales. Heated conversations, shouting matches, and the silent treatment have all broken out during disputes. But in the end, everyone knows that they have each other’s backs.

Davide Rossi has been the executive chef for the past seven years. A native of Milan, he says the family makes him feel like he’s one of them.

“Because it is family-owned, you are not a number here,” he says. “We all love each other very much. Joe can crack a joke with you, but he can yell at you if something goes wrong, and after two seconds, it’s like nothing happened.”

In 2008, Di Pasquale’s success reached new heights when Guy Fieri aired a segment from the store on his Food Network show Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives.
“We were popular before locally, but that just brought it to the next ridiculous level,” Joe says. “We became a factory of making lasagna and mozzarella. We had lines out the door.”

In 1998, the business bought Mastellone Deli on Harford Road, and in 2017, Di Pasquale’s opened a second location in Harborview. This time, both outposts became successes. But those moves were minor compared to what’s coming next.

Walk through the aisles of Di Pasquale’s on any random day and you’re likely to see cans of scungilli and Cuoco seasoning on the shelves, collecting dust. The sliced conch from off the shores of Long Island and the seasoning for macaroni with sardines are two of Joe’s beloved worst sellers, products he treasures and refuses to stop carrying, their popularity be damned.

“I don’t care if there are 10 cans sitting there, I want it here for that time when someone wants one,” he says. “I’m going to search out products that are quality but unique.”

There’s no doubt that jars of Di Pasquale’s marinara sauce, containers of its frozen cioppino soup, and packages of its frozen ravioli—all homemade—attract loyal customers, but it’s the ready-to-eat wedges of lasagna, massive arancini balls, and packed subs that keep them coming back.

The Old World Italian sub has soppressata, dry cured capicola, prosciutto, fontinella, tomato, and an olive spread. The Santino features prosciutto and a hunk of mozzarella made in-house daily. Di Pasquale’s take on American favorites like the cheesesteak are also wildly popular, as is the almost impossibly huge meatball sub, served in a half-loaf of rustic bread baked in the back. “Be prepared,” the menu warns. You never fully are.

The kitchen is headed by Sabrina, her sister, Mariagrazia, and Rossi, along with cook/baker Sadetta Hozic. They all contribute their own ideas and recipes, among them Sabrina’s popular Tuscan chili and the baked ziti she made for her kids when they were young.

It’s the popularity of all these items that has made staying in the current building untenable, Joe says. Lines often snake throughout the store, making social distancing in this age of COVID difficult. (“We’re fortunate,” Joe says of business during the pandemic. “A lot of restaurants, their food doesn’t travel well, but a meatball sub does. We’re down about 30 percent, but we’ve adjusted and we’re keeping everybody employed.”)

He began thinking about moving roughly two years ago.

“The infrastructure is not in this building for this kind of business,” Joe says. “The drainage, the electricity. The roof with all the equipment is like a war zone up there. The parking situation has become challenging.”

When they relocate from 3700 Gough Street to (the coincidentally numbered) 3700 Toone Street, they’ll be moving into a modern, larger space on the ground level of The Porter apartment building that has much more parking and ample room for indoor and outdoor seating. (The space previously housed Ceriello Fine Foods.)

The old building isn’t going anywhere; the Di Pasquales are keeping it for storage and one day may even open a coffee shop or bakery there, Joe says.

“I’m going to keep the ties to here as much as I can,” he says. “I’m going to run a shuttle system for the Italian ladies who walk here. I’m going to try delivery for them. I’m going to keep the [Highlandtown] wine festival and do everything I can.”

Julia Snyder, a Highlandtown native, is perhaps the one lifelong customer who’s not bummed about the move. She lives in The Porter.

“When they get here, I’ll be in my glory,” she says. “I’m on the fourth floor, and I’m getting a dumbwaiter to bring his food up.”

Much of the new space is being designed by the Di Pasquales’ 26-year-old son, Domenico. Although he’s the only one of their four children who works in the business full-time, all of the kids play a role. Marcella, 28, helps with staffing from her home in Southern California. Ivana, 22, is in college, but is instrumental in the apparel shipping business (yes, there are Di Pasquale’s T-shirts and caps), and plans to play a role in expanded shipping of food at the new location. Luigi, 16, helps pick up local produce.

“It’s going to be just like the old store, except more modern,” Domenico says. “There’s going to be high ceilings, a lot of lighting, open space, and it’s going to be more organized than it is right now in terms of ordering and standing in line.”

On a Wednesday in late January, the move still feels like the distant future to Joe, whose focus is squarely on the lunch rush. Cosimo Savino and his 87-year-old father, Bruno, are two of the first customers. Both men were born in Naples and have been coming to Di Pasquale’s since they arrived in America. Bruno, who speaks Italian, often enjoys a morning espresso with Joe.

“They can move anywhere, and I would follow them,” Cosimo says. “There is nobody that can do what they do.”

Later, a couple from Pennsylvania, in the store for the first time, approaches the counter and asks Joe for a sandwich recommendation. “Hot or cold?” he replies in his typical workman-like manner. “Hot.”

After pondering the question for a second, he suggests the Porchetta, a sub with Italian seasoned roast pork, provolone, sautéed onions, olive oil, and grated cheese. After eating it, the newcomers understand what the fuss is about.

Next in line is Adam Ostovitz, who moved to a house around the corner six years ago. He says he comes to Di Pasquale’s “too often.” This Wednesday is his third trip this week.

“It’s a little disappointing that they’re moving, but our loss is another neighborhood’s gain,” he says. “It’s not like they’re going away forever. It’s just a little bit farther. I’m happy to see them growing and serving more people. More power to them. What are you going to do?”

As he shrugs his shoulders, it is clear this is a rhetorical question. For Di Pasquale’s lovers everywhere, there’s only one thing they can do: Keep eating.

[Editor’s Note: After taking some time off, we are happy to resume our recurring “Open & Shut” column chronicling the latest restaurant happenings. Throughout the past few months, we’ve pivoted our weekly food coverage to tell personal stories of how chefs, restaurant owners, and industry workers are faring throughout the pandemic. Our “Without Reservation” column will continue, and as the food scene continues to press on in the wake of ever-changing dining regulations, “Open & Shut” will also run on a bi-weekly basis. We deeply appreciate your readership and hope that this column reiterates the importance of supporting Charm City’s unique array of restaurants, especially when they need it most.]

OPEN

NiHao: Perhaps the most highly anticipated local restaurant in years has officially made its debut in Canton. Culinary icon Peter Chang, along with his wife, Lisa, and daughter, Lydia, have brought on longtime friend Pichet Ong to collaborate on a menu of contemporary Chinese dishes that reflect both of the chef’s styles. Now open for carryout and delivery, NiHao—the casual Chinese greeting that evokes a sense of connection, according to the owners—offers traditional options such as a whole peking duck, shrimp dumplings, and mapo tofu. And enticing dishes unique to the restaurant include cumin lamb and corn ribs, chicken and tofu skin salad, Grand Marnier prawns in lettuce cups, and crispy bamboo catfish. Beverage director Janet Cam, formerly of Le Pavillon in Washington, D.C., has curated a list of worldly wines, Asian beers, Baiju cocktails, and craft sodas made with house-made shrubs to pair with the food. As they continue with their phased opening plan, the owners are looking forward to unveiling the revamped interior of the former Fork & Wrench space when the restaurant opens for indoor dining in the months ahead.

Lexington Market: Lexington is the latest of the Baltimore Public Markets to reopen in the midst of the coronavirus. Effective today, the market will open with proper safety measures at 50 percent capacity on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays from 8 a.m.-4 p.m. As shoppers return to visit their favorite vendors, developers with Seawall continue their redevelopment plans and will soon begin the vendor selection process for the revamped market set to open in 2022.

Sally O’s: Diners got a taste of this new concept from Top Chef alum Jesse Sandlin when she popped up at Mr. Nice Guy Cocktails in April. Now, the chef is ready to officially open Sally O’s on Friday, July 31. Set in the former home of The Laughing Pint in Highlandtown, the restaurant will offer an array of small plates, sandwiches, pastas, and hearty mains for carryout and outdoor dining. Dishes to look out for include crab-stuffed jalapeño poppers, a summer salad with nectarines and sweet peppers, crispy eggplant lasagna, and a buttermilk chicken sandwich with szechuan pickles. Though Sandlin is still awaiting liquor license approval, she will be featuring a few mocktails and coffee drinks from Black Acres Roastery to get started.

Until Conditions Improve: After a temporary closure a few weeks ago, the owners of The Bluebird in Hampden went back to the drawing board to think of a socially distanced pop-up concept that they hoped would be able to withstand the ever-changing dining restrictions. What they came up with is a burger-and-milkshake stand aptly named Until Conditions Improve. Starting this week, diners can order boozy amaretto milkshakes, burgers, BLT hot dogs, cornmeal-crusted fried pickles, and some of the bar’s classic cocktails for to-go or outdoor patio service.

COMING SOON

Bmore Licks: Just as they did in Canton three years ago, Bmore Licks owners Kim Proctor and Barbara Maloni have commissioned a massive, hand-painted ice cream mural on the side of their new building in Federal Hill. Locals might have noticed the artwork at 901 Light St., which will soon open as Bmore Licks’ second location. Expect the same fun flavors of homemade hard ice cream and soft serve (favorites include butter crunch, lemon ginger cookie, and Zeke’s coffee toffee) to be delivered through safely distanced takeout windows when the shop debuts later this summer. Bmore Licks adds to the growing ice cream options in the neighborhood, which recently welcomed The Charmery and will soon host Taharka Bros. inside Cross Street Market.

Bushel and a Peck Kitchen & Bar: Iron Bridge Wine Company co-owner Rob Wecker is teaming up with chef Joe Krywucki to bring this Chesapeake Bay-inspired restaurant to the former home of Food Plenty in Clarksville this September. The Maryland natives and longtime friends plan to offer a menu that shows off the bounty of the Bay, with highlights including rockfish, shrimp, and, of course, Maryland crab. Wecker, who also happens to be a master sommelier, plans to create a list of local beer, wine, and cocktails to accompany all of the dishes.

CH-CH CHANGES

Di Pasquale’s Marketplace: After more than 100 years in Highlandtown, this community staple is moving to a larger space in Brewers Hill next year. Taking over the former home of Ceriello Fine Foods on the bottom of The Porter apartment building, the Italian market will be able to grow its production and give customers more room to breathe while browsing its famous cheeses, meats, and prepared foods. In a note announcing the move on Facebook, the Di Pasquale family assured regulars that, despite moving a mile away, their hearts will always be in Highlandtown: “We may be moving some of our operations, but that does not mean we will divest our interest in the Highlandtown community that has taken care of us for over a century. We are excited to take this next step with you.”

BAKERY BULLETIN

Kitsch: Pastry chef Jacqueline Mearman, most recently of Atlas Restaurant Group, took to Instagram last week to announce plans to open her own spot near the Johns Hopkins University campus. Slated to open in October, the shop will offer egg sandwiches, a curated coffee and tea program, and some of Mearman’s signature sweets.

Ovenbird Bakery: Follow the smell of fresh-baked bread to find this new bakery in Little Italy. The handwritten list of artisan offerings rotates daily, highlighting rye, sourdough, ciabatta, and Italian loaves. There’s also house-made scones, pressed paninis, and desserts like cheesecake and Key Lime pie.

Pekara Bakery: The spirit of European pastry palace Roggenart, which shuttered in Mt. Washington months back, now lives on in Roland Park. Serbian-born owner Radomir Mihajlovic and head baker Borislav Petkovic—both of whom previously worked for Roggenart—recently celebrated the grand opening of their new spot on Coldspring Lane. Carrying over many of their recipes featured at the old spot, Pekara features pastries such as butter croissants, walnut brioche, and a classic pain au raisin.

Pie Time Baltimore: The brick-and-mortar home for this farmers market favorite is getting close to opening in Patterson Park. Neighbors have likely seen the freshly painted storefront on the corner of East Baltimore and South Ellwood streets, where owner Max Reim plans to offer his sweet and savory pies along with the strong lattes, espressos, cappuccinos, and Americanos that fans know and love from his pop-ups.

EPICUREAN EVENTS

Ongoing: Johnny’s Sunday Pop-Up Market
Foreman Wolf Restaurant Group is continuing its weekly Sunday markets in the parking lot of Johnny’s and Petit Louis Bistro in Roland Park. From 8-11 a.m., shop fresh pastas and sauces from Cinghiale, empanadas and produce from Bar Vasquez, breakfast and coffee from Johnny’s, and a selection of wines from all of the restaurant’s cellars picked by co-owner Tony Foreman. Plus, produce from local farms and artwork created by Foreman Wolf employees.

8/2: Don’t Know Community Pop-Up: Lucifero Loaves
Federal Hill’s Don’t Know Tavern is a prime example of the “a rising tide lifts all boats” mantra that has been practiced among industry workers since the shutdown. Starting this weekend, husband-and-wife owners John and Brittany Leonard are supporting fellow food businesses by hosting a different pop-up in one of their carryout windows on weekends. Kicking things off on August 2 will be artisan baker Lucifero Loaves, a regular at the Overlea and Baltimore Museum of Industry farmers markets. Be on the lookout for other purveyors including Codetta Bakeshop, Wild Berry Farm Market, and The Salad Lady scheduled to appear throughout the rest of the summer.

8/6: Takeout Thursdays With Dining Out For Life
Locals might be familiar with Dining Out For Life as the one-day-only promotion in which area restaurants donate a portion of their sales to Moveable Feast, which feeds those who are critically ill. But in the midst of COVID-19, organizers are vowing to give back to the restaurants that have supported the cause for the past 27 years. In addition to accepting individual donations through September 17, Dining Out For Life is streaming virtual concerts, seminars, and showcases on Facebook Live on Thursday evenings with the hope that diners will tune in while enjoying takeout from one of its many restaurant partners. Coming up on August 6 is a live performance by local acoustic band The Befuddlers, followed by composer Peter Dayton live from The Owl Bar, and a discussion on the future of the Black Lives Matter movement with community organizer Andre Robinson.

SHUT

Chez Hugo Bistro: It’s no secret that the coronavirus has been devastating for the local restaurant scene, and among the latest spots that have announced closures is this beloved bistro in the historic Merchants Club building downtown. French-born chef Steve Monnier and co-owner Scott Helm announced last week that they made the decision to shutter the restaurant amid the restricted dining capacity and “enormous uncertainty around when these conditions might change.” For more than two years, the cozy dining room has been a place to feast on escargot, steak frites, and Monnier’s famous multi-course tasting menus served by stellar staff.