On a late summer’s day, dozens of people slurp steaming bowls of ramen—and nothing seems to stop them. Not the 90-degree day. Not the lack of air conditioning on the enclosed patio. Not the kicky kimchi or the spicy, sweat-inducing “endorphin sauce” on the bao buns. The whole scene is proof positive that, at least for some, ramen is religion, even on the most sweltering of Baltimore days.

A few months later, on a fall day, the space continues to draw ramen revelers who have eagerly anticipated the arrival of this spot thanks, in part, to some cheeky billboards, including one which read, “Goodbye crab cakes, hello ramen?”

As it turns out, there’s room for both in this crustacean-crazed town. And while nothing can ever replace our beloved state treasure, ramen is definitely feeling the love in Baltimore.

Then again, this is not just any ramen spot, but Toki Underground, the white-hot noodle joint that helped kickstart the Mid-Atlantic ramen craze when it first opened in a then-down-trodden D.C. neighborhood in 2011 and, thanks to its combination of quality and affordability, quickly earned a handful of Michelin Bib Gourmand nods.

“Toki D.C.”—as partner Jeff Jetton, along with Olivier Caillabet, and Christophe Richard, calls the noodle shop’s first foray—took over an attic space on the second floor of a popular H Street dive bar packed with containers of Utz cheese balls and transformed it into a world-class ramen restaurant.

Toki 2 has similarly scrappy roots in the Harwood section of Baltimore. The partners chose Baltimore in part because Jetton has family here. This second location, on the site of the former Bottom’s Up Bagels, has three times as many seats as Toki D.C., so snagging a reservation is less of an ordeal, and wait times for walk-ins (and carryout) are kept to a minimum.

Designed by Christophe Richard, son of the late James Beard Award-winning chef Michel Richard, the space is a visual wonderland with its kinetic skate deck ceiling, shokuhin food samples on display, stickered walls, and tiny Japanese toys and trinkets. Replete with a yellow “Violation” placard affixed to a restaurant wall—a souvenir from when the Baltimore City Health Department mistakenly shut them down for operating without a license (before they had even opened)—the space exudes a kind of oddball anarchy.

The whole effect is Pee Wee’s Playhouse…if it had been set in Asia.

“Toki is more than a restaurant—everywhere you look there is work by amazing artists and fabricators,” notes Jetton. “We’ve been so lucky to tap into that incredible community,” adds Richard.

Toki celebrates Baltimore’s creative scene with 20 or so local artists—KC Corbett, Evangeline Gallagher, and Ainsley Burrows, among them—contributing everything from murals to motion graphics to furniture. Even the indie playlist was curated by local rap band Infinity Knives. (Fun fact: Jetton also recruited his friend, Academy Award-nominated special-effects designer Tony Gardner, to help flesh out the playful vision.)

The menu, which Caillabet says focuses on “simplicity and seasonality,” is similarly spirited. Toki is not a traditional noodle house but more izakaya-style—think Japanese tapas—with small plates of pickled things, bao buns, root beer wings, and other items for sharing.

In addition to a slate of pork-based ramen, there’s also a delectable vegan version made with a tasty mushroom-soy broth and a gluten-free option using Japanese yam noodles. If you don’t want to slurp, there are two broth-less noodle dishes, including shiitake and cashew dan dan noodles with miso-chile paste and mazeman noodles entangled with a variety of proteins, a soft egg, pickles, fried shallots, and various vegetables that are liberally doused with a sweet soy and black garlic sauce.

Of course, you must get at least one bowl of ramen, whose foundation is ladled from a 100-quart pot of rich tonkotsu broth that simmers for 18 hours. The bowls (classic, curry chicken ramen, kimchi, vegan, or red miso ramen) are built with thick, toothsome Japanese Myojo noodles and a rich pork-bone elixir that clings to each noodle, resulting in a happy marriage of taste and texture. Ramen hallmarks like tender chashu pork, a half-boiled seasoned egg, pickled ginger, and a scattering of scallions also add harmony to the one-bowl meal.

Before you tuck into your soup, consider the ethereal cloud shrimp served with kimchi-Kewpie mayo, or the fried chicken steamed buns paved with a sweet chile sauce and Japanese mayo—these were actually my favorite items on the menu.

Wash it all down with the signature Toki Monster cocktail, which you should get for the garnish alone: a skewer of grilled pork belly teetering across a rocks glass filled with Japanese whisky and a splash of vanilla-orange syrup.

One thing you won’t see on the menu, jokes Jetton, is crab cakes. “After the fun dust-up, I said, ‘What if we actually did make crab an enemy and said, No crabs on the menu!’”

TOKI UNDERGROUND 2731 Greenmount Ave., 443-449-5392. PRICES: Starters: $4.50-18; ramen; $15.50-22; dessert: $7. HOURS: Wed.- Thurs. 5-9 p.m.; Fri.-Sat. 5-10 p.m.; Sun. 5-9 p.m. AMBIANCE: Skateboard chic.

The forest green, light blue, and dark red exterior of Sandy Sparks’ rowhome isn’t the flashiest on her block, but the calming palette undeniably catches the eye. In fact, nine years ago, a panel of judges agreed, awarding the Charles Village resident a $1,500 prize for “best showpiece” in the neighborhood’s now-25-year-old Painted Ladies contest.

“You really have to keep after the painting,” says Sparks of her Guilford Avenue home. “It’s important to feel good about where you live. It makes life more satisfying.”

For two decades, this house-painting contest helped reinvent the residential aesthetic of Greater Charles Village and the surrounding Abell, Old Goucher, and Harwood communities. Today, the Painted Ladies—a moniker lifted from famous blocks in San Francisco—have become iconic for North Baltimore. They’re also ubiquitous, with their image posted everywhere from local airport and subway station ads to tourism brochures, real estate mailers, and government reports.

In their St. Paul Street rowhouse, painted in primary colors since 1995, Steven and Linda Brown Rivelis, pictured above, recount how the original contest came to be. One night in 1997, the Rivelises and neighbors Dawna Cobb and Lisa Simeone were mulling how to get other residents to add new hues to their homes. (Simeone was the group’s trailblazer, having painted her 31st Street home in muted pink, blue, and white in 1988.)

“It was a time when crime was on the rise, people said they were having trouble selling their houses, and we wanted a way to excite people about living in Charles Village,” recalls Cobb, who lived on 30th Street until 2016.

During the 1990s, these rowhome blocks were a contiguous shade of muddy brown—rumor has it Bethlehem Steel employees took home the plant’s brown primer as free housepaint.

“It led to a conversation of, ‘These are old Victorian homes, so why don’t we paint them in bright Victorian colors?’” says Linda. “That’s one [way to interest people], but if you incentivize it, that does more.”

That incentive would be cash. The group cold-pitched the Annie E. Casey Foundation, a Baltimore-based national youth charity, and convinced them to contribute a whopping $20,000. Cobb and Simeone also canvased the neighborhood, leaving photo books about San Francisco’s Painted Ladies on doorsteps to drum up interest.

It was an immediate hit. Launched in 1998, inaugural awards included the most vibrant porchfront, the most colorful flush-front facade, and the best front door, with winners receiving posters and plaques to put in their windows. By the end of 1999, some 40 houses had been painted, and by 2001, there were nearly 60, with other categories added over time, like best house trim, railings, and facelift.

A variety of donors have helped carry on the tradition, with funding hailing from the Charles Village Community Foundation and the local Goldseker Foundation. The last competition was a decade ago, and there are no current plans for another resurrection—after a quarter-century, Charles Villagers don’t need a financial incentive to adorn their houses in bright colors; it’s simply part of the neighborhood culture.

Still, the contest will get a revival of sorts this summer, with the Painted Ladies serving as the theme for the annual Charles Village Festival. The June 3-4 event will include a history booth to showcase the houses, as well as a guided walking tour.

Simeone, who’s since repainted her home a spirited medley of lavender, coral, and buttery cream with a reddish pink door, says the tradition has shown what beautification can accomplish at the neighborhood level.

“Beauty is incredibly important in people’s lives,” she says. “It’s not going to replace a decent wage or a roof over your head; it’s not going to get rid of crime. But I cannot stress enough that beauty is an essential element for humans, for communities to thrive.”

In the five years since launching Bottoms Up Bagels, founders Michelle Bond and Joan Kanner have gotten the hang of serving their boiled beauties from the confines of a 10-by-10 tent at outdoor farmers markets.

“We have a menu of 10 to 12 sandwiches that we make from a bunch of coolers and a camp stove,” Bond says. “It’s been a crazy learning experience, but it’s still the best part of our week.”

As much as they love connecting with the community at pop-up events, Bond and Kanner are excited to now serve diners in a space that is all their own.

Last week, the duo debuted their cleverly named “BUB Hub” at 2731 Greenmount Avenue in the Harwood area of North Baltimore. Boasting colorful, mid-century modern exterior murals designed by The Bizarre and painted by local artist Bobby Coleman, the can’t-miss shop is currently offering carryout service for breakfast and lunch on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. The team is also making deliveries on Thursday and Sunday mornings.

In the wake of COVID-19, Bond and Kanner are being intentional about their slow rollout. Instead of immediately offering up half of their 17 indoor seats and adjacent outdoor patio, they’re taking some time to get up to speed in the kitchen.

With the new setup—an open kitchen features plenty of prep space and a new Hobart mixer—the team of 10 can now ramp up continuous production on a daily basis.

“What we were doing before wasn’t sustainable for the amount of work that goes into our product,” says Bond, who adds that the business previously shared commissary space at Bmore Kitchen. “We were baking 500 to 600 bagels at 2 a.m. to then take to the markets. All of that is so integral to who we are, but it’s just physically so hard to maintain.”

After nearly three years of searching for a permanent home, they found the old 1940s commercial building through a connection with Central Baltimore Partnership. Aside from falling in love with the physical space and its location along a major thoroughfare, Bond and Kanner were thrilled that it was in Harwood—just down the road from their home in Waverly and the 32nd Street Farmers Market, where they were longtime vendors.

“We’re committed to this area,” Bond says. “It’s really important to us to be somewhere where there isn’t everything already.” Adds Kanner: “Harwood deserves it.”

The spirit of the shop is inspired by both of the owners’ upbringings in New Jersey. The transplants, who have lived in Baltimore for more than a decade, want to evoke the “steam-on-the-windows” type spots that they visited with their families.

“Growing up, my grandparents and I would go and get bagel dinners on Saturday nights and come home to watch The Golden Girls,” Kanner shares. “These were places that were open 24-7 and you would go and get a hot sack of bagels any time. Sometimes I would even get the chance to hold it on the way home.”

Highlighting hand-rolled bagels that come in varieties such as everything, pumpernickel, cinnamon-raisin, and Old Bay, the Bottoms Up menu offers sandwiches like the “Jersey Brekkie,” with fried egg and Taylor ham, and the “Loxed Up,” topped with house-cured gravlax. The team also serves local Dear Globe coffee blends and has added patty melts and vegan black bean burgers into the mix during opening week.

As much as the bagels are an homage to their native New Jersey, Bond and Kanner also see them as a vehicle for promoting inclusivity. As a woman-owned and queer-owned business, that mission has always been at the forefront for them.

“It’s an every man’s food, so it’s unifying in that way,” Bond says. “This vision is so clear to me of going to the bagel shop and having the cop, the guy in the business suit, the construction worker, the teacher, the nurse, all just having their own customized version of this one thing. We’re trying to cater to people who like really dense, chewy, old-school bagels, while also catering to people who want a bacon, egg, and cheese when they’re hungover, or someone who only has $3 to spend and wants to be full. We’re trying not to be everything to everybody, but to really maintain recognition that all of those people are finding something in what we do.”

Adds Kanner: “We’re forcing the issue that people can come together over this.”