The power is not out at The Coral Wig. We know because music is emanating from the speakers that are…somewhere. We can’t see them, or much of anything else, not that it really matters.

While this might be one of Baltimore’s darkest bars, The Coral Wig is a beacon.

First, about that music. It’s not every day you’re greeted in a bar by a rousing rendition of “Ave Maria” on the sound system. In creating the concept for this stylish bar, located in Mt. Vernon’s Ulysses hotel, Lane Harlan and her musician husband, Matthew Pierce, were inspired by the clubs of 1980s-era Manila, close to where Harlan was born. As in their other establishments—Clavel, W.C. Harlan, and Fadensonnen—the drinks are first-rate and the vibe is all their own.

When we walked through the alley entrance into the bar on a sunny afternoon in August, it took a few minutes for our eyes to adjust. Candles dot the few tables, but drinkers of a certain age (ours) might have to use their phones to illuminate the menu. A black walnut bar and amber stained-glass windows accentuate the aesthetic.

The name comes from a piece of music that Pierce wrote based on an experience he had snorkeling in the Caribbean with Harlan. A school of squid stopped in front of his wife, and her long hair was floating around her, almost like a coral wig.

A fascinating lineup of cocktails, highlighted by a margarita unlike any other we’ve tried, makes drinking in the dark a joy. The Banana Hammock, made with Cimarron tequila blanco, banana, lime, MSG, and lined with Himalayan salt, is a tropical delight. The Painkiller is a clever combo of rhum agricole (a style of rum made from squeezed sugarcane juice) with Sichuan peppercorn, pineapple and orange, coconut cream, and nutmeg. It’s subtle at first but be forewarned: Drink two and you’ll understand its name. The Pink Snapper is the cutest-looking drink of the bunch. Combining Rhum Barbancourt with strawberry, lime, and Sansho peppercorn, it’s one of the sweetest drinks on the menu, but it’s not overpowering or off-putting.

The Coral Wig is not a beer bar, but beer—light or dark are the two choices—is available, along with a few wines. The most interesting part of the menu might be the “suggested spirits,” which include Haitian clairin (a sugarcane spirit), Caribbean cask Scotch from the U.K., and selections from Martinique, Jamaica, Brazil, and Guyana.

Fostering a sense of adventure, in some ways the place exerts a literary vibe. Among the patrons there when we visited was a person reading from a hardcover book (must be the young eyes), and another writing in a notebook, using an actual ink pen. The primary reason for patrons to whip out their phones was the flashlight function.

As we finished our last round, a beautiful Maria Callas aria filled the room. Walking outside into the late happy-hour sunshine, we could see the light.

The day Parker was born was remarkable. Of course, all births are pretty spectacular, but his was notable for a variety of reasons.

His mom, Kate Rowe, 36, has survived ovarian cancer—twice. In between her two oophorectomies—the surgical removal of her ovaries—she went through IVF to retrieve her eggs, in the hope that she would be able to get pregnant when her body was healed.  A first pregnancy ended in a heartbreaking miscarriage, but luckily her second resulted in Parker, a red-headed, blue-eyed ball of brightness and joy.

Two weeks before her due date, Rowe was diagnosed with preeclampsia and her husband Tom, tested positive for COVID. She tested positive a few days later too. That meant a quarantine stay at Johns Hopkins Hospital as the “COVID mom,” says Rowe. They checked in on March 23, 2022, Parker was born via C-section on March 27, and they were finally discharged home on April 1.

Five weeks later, on Mother’s Day, Rowe was back at the hospital, after passing out from blood loss connected to the delivery. A few days later she’d be recovering from another surgery.

“I told Tom all I want for 2023 is just boring contentment,” says Rowe. Last year was filled with extreme highs and lows, and she could use a little normalcy. “Joyful, intense life-giving moments are amazing—you don’t not want them—but just having this good day
is a win,” she says. It’s been a struggle to trust her body again. “I’ve just had all these situations that feel like my body is attacking me.”

But she’s trying. Right now, that means avocado toast from Atwater’s and a happy, babbling, toothy-grinned Parker inside their cramped Canton apartment—soon to be traded in for a new house in Baltimore County’s Phoenix.

As Rowe can attest, being a mom is a wild ride. There’s bliss and exhaustion, laughter and failure, and that’s just in a 15-minute span.

Allison Banks became a first-time mom at age 42. “She has black curly hair and came out screaming,” says Banks of Ava, now three and a half months old. “She’s a real baby now,” laughs Banks. “She’s plumped up and we’ve started seeing a personality. But I’m frightened every day. Am I doing this right?”

One thing that Banks has realized is “nobody knows what they’re doing”—no matter what age someone becomes a mom. “We are all just figuring this out.”

Lane Harlan, one of Baltimore’s most successful restaurateurs with Clavel, Fadensonnen, WC Harlan, and the upcoming Coral Wig bar, met her match this year. Brune Charo was born “fast and furious” on the last Sunday in August. “It’s been amazing, it’s been hard, it’s been nebulous,” says Harlan, now eight months into this motherhood voyage, drinking her coffee black on a Tuesday afternoon at Artifact. “I think nebulous is a really good way to describe it. As soon as you sort of get a rhythm everything changes the next week.”

The first year is slippery, she says. “I can’t get a grip on it. And I don’t think you are supposed to get a grip because the second you get it down it changes.” It’s been hard, she admits, for someone who likes—okay, needs—organization and systems. “It’s really challenging to release some of that control, and I understand she’s teaching me as much as I’m teaching her,” Harlan says.

She’s also learned to rely on her intuition. Those first few weeks you’re just dropping in and out of hysteria, says Harlan, 36, who went back to work when Brune was just three weeks old. You have all this doubt creeping in “to totally freak you out,” especially in the newborn phase. But “most babies make it to the adult phase,” says Harlan. “I just kept telling myself that. Most babies grow up to be adults. Why am I sweating over all these little details so much?”

Banks, from her Patterson Park rowhome, had similar feelings. “I’m responsible for this whole person,” she kept telling herself through the fog of hormones, exhaustion, self-doubt, and days that never seem to end but also manage to go by too quickly. “The first four to six weeks are still kind of a blur. It honestly felt like three long days.”

And now that Banks has started back at work, she’s learning how much capacity she has to “do everything.” She’s been putting off finding childcare, she admits. “I’m not ready for anyone else to take care of my baby. Three months is not a lot of time.”

“AS SOON AS YOU SORT OF GET A RHYTHM EVERYTHING CHANGES THE NEXT WEEK.”

For Rowe, a ceramic artist and teacher at ClayGround Studio & Gallery, having a nanny for Parker a few hours a week, “lets me breathe air that he isn’t breathing.” Pottery was essential to her healing after her second oophorectomy —“it saved me in a time when I needed saving.” And it was there for her again when she was happily pregnant with Parker but still needing to mourn and process the miscarriage.

“I really enjoyed being pregnant. It was beautiful, it was hard. It was all the things I wanted it to be,” says Rowe. “But I definitely held myself back from feeling some of the joy I know I felt but didn’t want to let myself have.”

Since having Parker there’s been a lot of pure delight. And a lot of other feelings, too. Something happens when you become a mom. You have all these competing thoughts. You want to teach them to walk, but don’t want to ever let go. You dream they’ll be the best of you, but somehow completely their own person, too. You want them to experience the world, but from the safety of your arms.

“It’s changed my perspective,” says Harlan. “I think in the past I had been more nostalgic and looked backwards and now I look forward. It makes me think about the future.It makes me think about what the world is going to be like for her. I think my perspective
on the world has changed because I am now caring for the future.”

Recently while flying to Spain with her husband, Matthew Pierce, Harlan found herself emailing all her passwords to her parents, who were watching Brune—“in case we’re lost at sea.” She suddenly finds herself thinking about life insurance, because “for better or for worse it puts me face to face with mortality.”

Harlan has started a Dear Brune letter, in the Notes app on her phone, typing usually in the wee hours when she takes the overnight shift for a baby who does not like to sleep. “There is so much I want to tell her now.” Sometimes it’s profound thoughts, other times it’s, “We went on a walk today, this is what you looked at, this is what you loved, this is what I saw.” It’s for both of them. “The practice helps me cope with the anxiety of not knowing what tomorrow will bring,” she says.

Rowe is also at a crossroads. “Something is shifting. Maybe it’s because he’s not a baby baby anymore,” she says. She feels an emotional change within herself. “I wanted a baby so much and now he’s becoming a kid and it’s really shifting my brain. It’s beautiful and it’s brutal every day. It’s so amazing to see him grow and it’s so hurtful to know that every day he’s bigger. He’s taking steps. Like cool, you’re taking steps to walk away from me,” her voice cracks. “It’s a lot.”

But for now, there’s still walks in the stroller to Bark Social with their pup, Murphy, sticky hands full of puffed snacks, and naps that allow Rowe to prep a few dozen mugs for the kiln.

For Harlan, it’s no surprise that introducing food to Brune has brought a lot of bliss. There was an abundance of food in her childhood, mostly due to her Filipino-born mother, who would always “cook way more food than you could eat.” Harlan says she remembers eating “rice and bananas with soy sauce” and Spam. And though Brune’s first foods have been slightly different, Harlan did start her eating very young.

“The process is really fun and funny and messy. I have this long list of every single thing I want her to taste, and I want to see her experience.” That includes things like lemons and tinned fish. Anything with “really intense flavors.” And yes, she knows at some point even her child will only want chicken fingers and cheese quesadillas.

“Basically, as soon as she crawled out of me, I was like, ‘You’re your own. I need to get to know you. What do you need?’” So far, they have logged countless miles walking from their Tuscany-Canterbury home to Sherwood Gardens, Linkwood Park, and the Baltimore Museum of Art. While Brune takes in the world, Harlan can revel in not having to be the constant source of entertainment. Often, she has one hand on the baby in the carrier, and the other wrapped around a cup of coffee.

Banks, who now expertly maneuvers her stroller up and down her steps and the narrow entranceway to her home, also loves walking to ice cream shops, grocery stores, and to pick up dinner with the baby. She’s constantly thinking about her own mom, whom she lost when she was 11, so she makes sure to take plenty of photos of herself with Ava. She never wants her to wish there were more pictures of them together—like she does with her own mother.

Another friend, who also had her first after 40, told Banks she was putting her baby in every ensemble she wanted—even multiple changes a day. “I waited this long; he is going to wear every one of these outfits,” her friend joked. Banks realized she could also allow herself that freedom. “I waited this long and I’m dressing her up in everything I always wanted to—including bows. I don’t care. I’m just enjoying all of it.”

She pauses. “I was waiting for her. Out of all the babies, this was my baby. This one’s mine. I know she was meant for me. I’m just grateful. I am feeling all the feelings.” Banks laughs—motherhood will do that to you, turn you into a sappy person who didn’t exist before. Into someone who says, “feeling all the feelings.” And she admits that when Ava is in her room napping, when there is finally a fleeting moment of quiet, “I miss my baby.”

“I WAS WAITING FOR HER. OUT OF ALL THE BABIES, THIS WAS MY BABY.”

After what can be years of thinking about a baby, getting pregnant, being pregnant, and then being the baby’s entire world for the first year, it can be hard to let go. Harlan knows she must work extra hard to be in the moment and not control the moment.

“I hope that Brune feels supported in her interests,” she says. “And I hope that I can approach motherhood less like a manager, as I do with a lot of my businesses, and more like a supportive witness.”

She pauses, knowing how hard it is to unteach yourself something you’ve been doing for over a decade. “I have had a career and managed a lot of people, but I don’t want to fall into the pattern of doing that with her. I hope she can teach me how to sit back and be more of a spectator versus a manager.” Harlan is learning how to get out of the way a bit: “I want her to be free to find her own voice.”

As she approaches her second Mother’s Day, and with a newly minted one-year-old, Rowe is realizing just how fast it goes. She’s emotional. Her baby is getting older, and they are starting to pack up the only home he’s ever known. “Everyone has very sweet input,” she says. “They say, ‘This age is so good. The next thing is going to be so great.’” Her voice breaks. “But it’s so hard to let go of the part that you like so much. I loved when he was a little loaf of bread and fell asleep on your chest. That was a really hard time in the hospital, but it was just us and it was a beautiful time we had.”

Parker is busy in his little fenced-in play area, banging on his walker with one chubby hand and holding onto “his” remote with the other. Naptime is approaching. You can’t stop time. “Change is so good and so hard,” says Rowe. “It seems like it’ll either be so hard or so great, but it is all of those things at the same time.”

Like many area restaurateurs, Clavel co-owners Lane Harlan and Carlos Raba have recently reinvented the business model at their James Beard-nominated taqueria with carryout and curbside pickup due to the COVID crisis. They’ve even gone so far as to give their grab-and-go business a new name, Pisa & Corre, which was inspired by the convenience stores in Raba’s hometown of Sinaloa, Mexico.

“I used to go to a little drive-thru market in my little city in Mexico and it was called Pisa y Corre, which translates to the Stop and Run,” Raba says. “You could go buy beer and groceries and drive through. So I said, ‘Why don’t we do tacos kits?’ People need a meal that not only is affordable, but filling.”

In keeping with this idea, the team also decided to start serving burritos. “You can eat half one day and half another,” Raba adds. “They have a lot of flavor, they are as good the next day, and they make people smile. With Pisa & Corre, we’ve created a totally different business. We are innovators fighting for Baltimore and our community, and making the best of it with what we can.”

It seems as though you’re doing really well with your new carryout model and selling out each week. How’s it going?
Lane Harlan: The first week was traumatic. We were open for brunch with a skeleton crew the day before—we knew it was coming. On March 16, when Governor Hogan closed restaurants and bars, we literally spent 24 hours brainstorming this new business model that we call Pisa & Corre. We didn’t have a website built yet, we put a menu online and people could call in their orders, but you can only process as fast as the speed of answering the phone and confirming payment and then people were showing up without having ordered.

We thought our online website would fix everything, but it created new obstacles. It allowed everyone to order at the same time, which created a backlog and people were having to wait two-and-a-half hours. That single day ended up being the most amount of sales we’ve ever done, and that was with less than 10 people working. We had to apologize to a lot of people that first night. When things have gotten mixed up, we’ve offered refunds, and most people declined to take them.

So, what is working for you?
LH: What is working is that we’ve increased our prices by 20 percent in order to send weekly money to our non-working staff—and not one customer has complained. The tip pool is distributed evenly to nearly everyone, including the working staff on the days that they aren’t working. We laid off people who chose to be laid off so they could apply for unemployment. [Some are opting] out of the tip pool to provide for the people who need it the most—if you’re benefiting from the stimulus, you might not need the tip pool money.

No one should profit during this crisis. Individuals and the businesses themselves shouldn’t be profiting. The people in need are our number-one concern, and we will be endlessly creative about how to keep these people paying their bills and keep milk in their fridge. The speed of the government is slow, and people don’t have time to wait for money to feed their families.

“We are innovators fighting for Baltimore and our community and making the best of it with what we can.”

I noticed you’ve been selling T-shirts, too.
LH: People are buying merchandise like never before—they know it’s going to a tip pool. I went to a local screen printer and spent money on hundreds of shirts and sold out. People truly care and keep buying them.

So, are you making the math work in terms of being able to make ends meet?
LH: The numbers are working because we have higher averages for what people are spending and buying in bulk, and we have less staff. For example, we’re selling six margaritas in bulk at a time. It’s an amazing hustle that doesn’t feel super sustainable. We can afford our payroll and people are being paid right now at least what they were making before, but we don’t know how long this is sustainable. We are in serious survival mode.

How else are you supporting your staff?
LH: We just hosted a back of house meeting with a translator with Maryland CASA. We want to help them get resources, learn how to get unemployment, or get help if there’s a home situation with abuse because children are at home. The flow of information is incredibly important. They deserve the same flow of information as the front of the house.

Any tips on getting carryout? I’ve seen the sold-out signs.
Carlos Raba: The best times to pick up are between noon and 4 p.m. when it’s slow. You can order a burrito at noon and heat it later. It will be perfectly fine. We sell out because there are so many tickets waiting. It’s not that we don’t have the food, but we can’t process more than 150 tickets.

“Why do sushi chefs have tip jars but the people who work in the front of the house make hundreds of dollars in cash? How can we bring those people in the back making tortillas and chopping to the front?”

How are you unwinding?
LH: My first day off since March 15 was March 29. We went on a hike and didn’t work at all. I bought a trampoline to jump on every morning.

CR: I do Jiu-Jitsu in my basement and exercise with my wife, Claudia, and spend the time outside doing stuff we didn’t have time to do. I’m embracing time with my kids and I’m able to put my kids to bed at 9 and then have a margarita with Claudia.

Lane, how are you sustaining your other businesses, Fadensonnen and W.C. Harlan that you co-own with your husband, Matthew?
LH: W.C. Harlan and Fadensonnen are closed. We opened up our wine storage room and created a bottle shop called Angels Ate Lemons. We’re doing wine deliveries within a three-mile radius and offering curbside pickup on Tuesdays and Saturdays from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m. Right now, I’m moving inventory and liquidizing—it’s keeping the manager at W.C. Harlan on salary.

“You don’t have to be wealthy to survive a crisis—if you have the support of numbers of people in your community, then you will weather the storm.”

What will you take with you that will stick once this is over?
LH: The divide between back and front of the house is going to shrink. We are making moves to level the playing field and change the perception. I’ve been working in restaurants since I was 15, but I try not to be a product of that environment. It took me a long time to question why people working in a kitchen make so much less than people making cocktails. Why do sushi chefs have tip jars but the people who work in the front of the house make hundreds of dollars in cash? How can we bring those people in the back making tortillas and chopping to the front? It’s not the publics job to recognize these truths, it’s my job to make these changes and hope that it trickles down to other restaurants.

CR: It has opened our eyes to the issues in the back and the front of the house. Maybe you have a dishwasher you thought was legal and then all of a sudden, he tells you he isn’t and can’t apply for unemployment. There are probably millions of examples of that in our industry. How can we make it fair? What do people deserve? We are going to start to push our politicians and government. We need to open their eyes about what it’s like to run a small business.

What lessons have you learned from this?
LH: We’ve worked it out in a way that was smart and risky, but we have a dedicated following. Whatever we’ve done in the past is coming back to us right now—it’s a lesson for restaurants who are not involved in the community. It’s a wake up call—if you just stand for profit alone and don’t give that back, you don’t have that safety net. And it’s not coming back to you. You don’t have to be wealthy to survive a crisis—if you have the support of numbers of people in your community, then you will weather the storm.

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.”

To call this project a labor of of love might be an understatement. Five years ago, before Clavel was even a glimmer in their eye, the husband-and-wife team of Lane Harlan and Matthew Pierce wanted to open a small-scale beer garden in Baltimore.

The pieces didn’t quite come together, and they moved on—such is life. But that vision remained and, in fact, only grew into what is now a multipurpose complex in Old Goucher that will soon consist of three small businesses and an artist residency.

The first of those businesses is Fadensonnen (3 W. 23rd St.). Located in a former two-story carriage house, it’s not only a beer garden but a natural wine and sake bar. Mirroring the mood of Clavel, the 148-seat courtyard is minimalist with a wooden overhang, string lights, and picnic tables. The beer garden menu features a sustainable keg program pouring small-batch selections from Union Craft Brewing, Brooklyn Kura, Old Westminster Winery, and Hex Ferments.

In case you were wondering (like many are), “Fadensonnen” is the title of a German poem published in 1968 by Paul Celan and translates into English as “threadsuns,” which gives a nod to both the style of the beer garden and its open-air concept.

Ascend the carriage house stairs and you’ll find a cozy, 35-seat wine bar complete with original exposed ceiling beams, a white-brick fireplace, and charred Japanese wood throughout. Details aren’t overlooked here, and nice touches include the complimentary hot tea upon arrival and the bar and snacks from Larder (an upcoming business in the complex) such as pork pâté, chocolate, and charcuterie plates.

Things can get really funky, literally, as you taste your way through natural wines and unpasteurized sake. Take the sake from Fukushima, Japan, that was smooth and creamy and had hints of sweet cherry. Or the apricot-colored wine from the country of Georgia that was super earthy and peachy and redefined what we thought wine could taste like.

And that’s the magic of all of Harlan and Pierce’s projects—they don’t just nourish us, they make us think. After paying our bill, we walked away not only with the warm buzz of wine and sake humming in our heads, but with a new perspective on how a bar should be: edifying yet comfortable.

This isn’t the first time Lane Harlan has been a trailblazer in Baltimore. Back before it was trendy, she and her now-husband Matthew Pierce opened cocktail bar W.C. Harlan in Remington before the thought of ordering Old Fashioneds and Fernet Branca was commonplace. And, of course, a couple of years later, they followed just down the street with Clavel and introduced Baltimore to the world of mezcal and Sinaloan cuisine.

Now, they are making new waves in the nearby neighborhood of Old Goucher with Socle at 2223 Maryland Avenue, a complex that consists of three small businesses and an artist residency. The first of those businesses—and the true baby for Harlan and Pierce—is Fadensonnen, a beer garden and natural wine and sake bar that is opening to the public this Friday.

“Back in 2014, before we ever set our sights on opening Clavel, we started looking at properties in Old Goucher to realize our dream of opening a small-scale beer garden,” Harlan says. “After being unable to find a building with enough outdoor space, we moved on to Clavel and kept the vision of Fadensonnen alive in our minds. Two years later, we found the perfect location—an old carriage house facing an open-air courtyard just two blocks from our other businesses.”

For those curious about the name, Fadensonnen is the title of a German poem published in 1968 by Paul Celan and translates into English as “threadsuns,” which gives a nod to both the style of the beer garden and its open-air concept.

The 148-seat courtyard will include a sustainable keg program pouring wild ciders, natural wines, unpasteurized sake, and beer on draft with selections from Union Craft Brewing, Graft Cider, Old Westminster Winery, and Hex Ferments as well as many wines from around the world. Guests will also be able to access a bottle shop to select wine to enjoy at the bar or take home.

Harlan is particularly excited to introduce locals to the concept of natural wine, which is farmed biodynamically or organically without the use of harsh chemicals in the vineyard.

“The wine is produced without additives following a low interventionist philosophy,” she explains. “Fermentation occurs with indigenous yeasts and there is no fining or sterile filtering of the wine resulting in a real ‘living wine.’”

Up the stairs and through the carriage house is an intimate 35-seat wine bar (with original exposed ceiling beams and dark, charred wood throughout) that will specialize in more natural wine and Japanese sake. The menu will rotate frequently to reflect the nature of small-scale sake microbreweries.

Other concepts to look forward to in the Socle complex will be Larder, a cafe from Chef Helena del Pesco, who honed her culinary skills in San Francisco and places like Mexico City and Tel Aviv. She’ll be working closely with local farmers to create seasonal lunch options including hearty snap pea salads and slow-cooked shepherd’s pie.

The third business will be the subterranean Sophomore Coffee, run by Ann Travers Fortune and Kris Fulton (formerly of Lamill Coffee in the Four Seasons Hotel Baltimore). Their menu will focus on coffees roasted by Toby’s Estate in Brooklyn, New York, as well as a selection of teas and light fare.

“We are a creative nexus of people who recognize that the things we consume to nourish ourselves are a key part of our daily rhythm,” Harlan says, “one that pulses with the bright flavors of farm-grown produce, the wild notes of natural wine, and the complexity of meticulously roasted coffee beans.”

For now, just Fadensonnen will open at 3 W. 23rd Street to the public on Friday, with the courtyard staying open until midnight and the upstairs bar closing at 1 a.m.

Typically, the annual Baltimore Cocktail Week kicks off with a cocktail competition. But rather than pitting local bartenders against one another, organizer Ginny Lawhorn is taking a more collaborative approach this time around.

“In the face of the heartbreaking number of restaurant closures in the last year and a half, I didn’t feel like we needed another competition,” says Lawhorn, the co-owner of Sticky Rice, who started the event in 2015. “There’s more of a desire to create a community conversation and focus on cultivating small businesses, whether it’s engaging in them as consumers or supporting the jobs that they create.”

This year, the weeklong initiative happening July 30-August 4 will launch with an across-town happy hour at five bars scattered from Hampden to Canton, including Holy Frijoles, The Red Star in Charles Village, Sticky Rice, Bartenders Pub, and The Regal Beagle. On Monday, July 30 from 4-10 p.m., each spot will create a specialty drink using a certain spirit, and a portion of the final sales will be donated to local nonprofits.

“Baltimore has so many unique communities,” Lawhorn says. “People become so comfortable exploring their own, but sometimes it’s nice to engage customers and try to get them just a neighborhood away.”

The inclusive feel of the kick-off happy hour is fitting for this year’s theme, “Better Together”—which Lawhorn says will be an undertone in all of the Baltimore Cocktail Week meetups. From a special brunch to a conversation about collective bargaining, the daily events (many of which are open to the public) will address subjects like sustainability, innovation, and wellness in the hospitality industry.

Feminism will also be a topic of discussion, as five female industry leaders gather for a “Badass Business Babes” panel at Waverly Brewing on July 31 at 7 p.m. Admission to the talk is $25 with all proceeds being donated to House of Ruth. Panelists will include Lane Harlan of Clavel and W.C. Harlan, Judy Neff of Checkerspot Brewing, Carrie Podles of Alexander’s Tavern and Papi’s Tacos, Emily Lerman of Mera Kitchen Collective, and Paige Baskauskas of Opici Wines.

“It’s going to be great to hear everyone else’s opinions about working in the hospitality industry from all sides,” says Baskauskas, a wine sales representative for Opici. “This is a great event to show everyone that we’re educated when it comes to our craft. We know what we’re doing and we want to expand on that even more.”

The week continues with a free, all-day series of wellness workshops at R. House in Remington on August 1. Led by our own local “healthtender” Amie Ward, the gathering will begin with yoga followed by a series of conversations about nutrition, sobriety, and sexual assault prevention.

Another industry trend being represented is sustainability, which will be addressed at a get-together at Foraged in Hampden on August 2. Six national brands, including Bombay Sapphire and Sierra Nevada, will present local bartenders with information about how to minimize their ecological footprints.

“It’s not a secret that we’re a wasteful industry,” Lawhorn says. “It’s a lot of packaging and food waste. But where do you start? Paper straws and compostable to-go containers are amazing. It’s all about focusing on that next step to lower your environmental impact.”

Later that day, Ceremony Coffee in Mt. Vernon will host “Punch with a Purpose,” a collaborative cocktail class that will teach consumers about the versatility of different spirits by creating a seasonal punch. “It’s super fun to dump bottles in things,” quips Lawhorn. “It’s also exciting to be able to engage a beautiful space like Ceremony in a different way for an evening conversation.”

Closing out the week will be a Baltimore Cocktail Week collaboration with the Fells Point Farmers’ Market on August 4. Attendees will be able to sample sips from eight neighborhood bartenders and vote for their favorites. The winner will be the signature cocktail at the End of Summer Soiree at the Sagamore Pendry on August 23.

In keeping with the “Better Together” theme, Lawhorn says she hopes that the weeklong initiative sparks a sense of community engagement in patrons and bartenders alike.

“There’s something so important about conversations next to your friends at a bar stool, or across the bar with a bartender,” she says, “and what that can mean to cultivation of ideas and a sense of community in a city.”

With its strung lights, interior greenery, expansive mezcal library, and authentic eats inspired by owner Lane Harlan’s beloved Oaxaca, Mexico, Clavel already has plenty of charm. But come fall, the cozy Remington restaurant will boast even more to write home about. 

Harlan’s team will soon begin transforming a garage attached to the building into a Sinaloan-inspired cevicheria with additional seating and a dance floor—a project which she says has been percolating for a while now. 

In addition, they are working on opening a beer garden in the nearby Old Goucher neighborhood that will serve beer, wine, and cocktails. The new beer garden is slated to open in the spring.

“We’ve been trying to expand Clavel since the first six months we were in business,” Harlan says. “As our ceviche menu keeps growing, we’ve felt strongly about doing much more but never had the space.”

Clavel recently acquired the next-door garage—which was formerly used as a storage unit—and plans to knock down the adjoining wall to expand the restaurant’s kitchen with a cold side designated for seafood prep.

While the tacqueria and mezcaleria will continue in Clavel’s current space, the new area will feature an expanded lineup of ceviches and flexible seating that can open up to allow for dancing in the evenings.

Harlan explains that the new space is largely influenced by co-owner and executive chef Carlos Raba’s native Sinaloa, which highlights many laid-back cevicherias.

“They’re all very casual,” she says, mentioning a recent visit to Sinaloa on one of Clavel’s routine staff trips. “It’s where you go to order lots of things to share or stand around drinking beers with friends. It’s really all about eating light and fresh.”

Adds Raba: “Everybody just sits around, eats, and has a fun time. There are always huge plates of ceviche on the table, and sometimes live music coming from the three-piece bands on the beach.”

In keeping with the authentic inspiration, live entertainment is a huge part of the owners’ overall vision for the expansion. Harlan says that the hope is to frequently host local bands and encourage salsa and bolero dancing.  

“When we were in Oaxaca, some of the best moments we had were when the dance floor turned into an all-out party,” Harlan remembers. “We really want to bring that lively feeling here.”

Of course, one of the most significant perks of the new space is its additional seating. After two years of operating Clavel in its current digs, Harlan is enthusiastic about hosting more private events and alleviating wait times for locals.

“It’s a big thing for us,” she says. “One thing we really don’t buckle on is the no reservations policy. Some people really don’t like that, but locals really appreciate it because they can just pop in. We want to be a part of the community we’re in above all else.”

Before adopting her middle moniker of “Lane” as a first name, Lane Harlan, born as Brittany Harlan in 1987 on Clark Air Base in the Philippines, was once afraid that her birth name would hold her back. “Brittany was so ’80s,” says Harlan. “And my best friend’s name is Brittney, so people were always calling us ‘The Brits.’ I thought, ‘I’d like to be my own person.’ I wanted to grow into myself. I wanted to move forward. So about seven years ago, I was like, ‘I’m Lane now.’” The name change seemed to work as the 30-year-old entrepreneur has since become a bit of a one-name wonder in Charm City. As owner of the speakeasy-style W.C. Harlan and Maryland’s first mezcaleria, Clavel, Harlan has defied conventional real-estate wisdom—location, location, location—and turned a blighted block of Remington into a drinking and dining destination for killer craft cocktails and simple, traditional Sinaloan fare.

By the look of the line that forms out the door at Clavel during the dinner rush, it’s clear that Harlan has become a force on the scene. In the less than two years since it’s been open, the spot has adopted a loyal following of culinary constituents, as well as families, hipsters, and Remington residents. Regulars include former Gov. Martin O’Malley, House of Cards actors Michael Kelly and Neve Campbell, and local legend John Waters.

Weighs in Waters, “I love Clavel because it has cute people eating there at moderate, unpretentious prices right off of Howard Street and 23rd, which is the new culinary center all because of Lane Harlan’s good taste. Yep, bohemian and foodie can go together.”

As the midday light streams through the window of her 100-some-year-old apartment in Tuscany-Canterbury, Harlan sits on a vintage German beer garden table, looking striking. With her gorgeous, flowing locks, full lips, gauzy clothes, and knack for accessorizing (a simple silver bracelet here, an unexpected hat there), she exudes a mysterious beauty, like someone straight out of a Gabriel García Márquez novel.

Her digs project a similar air of élan and worldliness. Relics from her travels are everywhere—pieces of Chilean pottery and religious art hang on the walls and two corner cupboards are crammed with glass from the Czech Republic, vintage Día de los Muertos angels purchased in Mexico, and an ivory boat given to her from her parents’ trip to Japan. There are also beloved books—by Steinbeck, Nabokov, Kierkegaard, Pound, Mann—as well as tomes of poetry—Czeslaw Milosz, Tomas Tranströmer—stacked on shelves in an open closet, above which is mounted an aoudad ram’s head. (“My Texas side,” she says.)

On this mid-November day, Harlan is fresh from a weeklong trip to Oaxaca and Mexico City. By December, stamps from Denmark, Norway, and Sweden will grace her passport. “When I’m here, I’m so focused on the businesses,” she says. “Travel is like my personal development. When I travel, I’ll feel a growth spurt.”

Harlan exudes a mysterious beauty, like someone out of a Gabriel García Márquez novel.

In her early years, Harlan’s personal growth came from a similarly nomadic upbringing. As a military brat, Harlan and her family were always on the go—nearly every two years they would pick up and move to another state, from Texas to Nevada to California to North Dakota to Florida, and, finally, to Maryland.

“As soon as we got the tack on the wall, it was time to pack up again,” she recalls. “As a kid, it was pretty hard, because I am living in Florida and I’m trying to be a surfer, and then we moved to New Mexico and the kids are really preppy and I’m trying my best to fit in, and then we move to Maryland and the kids are really into hip-hop.”

Recalling the family’s final move to Waldorf one month into her eighth-grade year, her eyes dampen ever so slightly. “I can still remember arriving at P.E. class on that first day,” she says. “I was wearing flip-flops and toe rings, and I had a sundress on and the kids were like, ‘What just landed in our gym?’”

After high school, Harlan moved again—this time to study French and political science at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County. A 2009 study-abroad program in France in the spring of her sophomore year stirred her wanderlust. “I went to Aix-en-Provence and studied French,” she says, “but I didn’t do well, because I didn’t go to school. I sat in a cafe reading and writing and smoking cigarettes all day. It was my sentimental education.”

Back in Baltimore, she yearned to return to France. In September 2010, she landed a job teaching English in the tiny town of Saintes, near Bordeaux. By 2011, it was back to Baltimore, where she eventually gave up her formal education. “I took Shakespeare, poetry, political science, but I couldn’t pass a math class,” she says. “At some point, I couldn’t justify the degree as something that mattered.”

Work, however, was something that did matter. One of her first jobs was at the storied Brass Elephant in Mount Vernon (recently reopened as The Elephant), where she made butter in the basement. Next, she worked at Roy’s as a host, a food runner, a bus girl, and a server, and she continued to learn the ropes of the restaurant business.

From Roy’s, she went to work at the tiny Jack’s Bistro in Canton, where she tended bar and first dreamt of owning a place of her own. “[Owner] Ted [Stelzenmuller] let me do whatever I wanted,” she recalls. “They let me be creative behind the bar and I loved interacting with people and had a lot of regulars.”

With the help of her family and some small savings, in 2013, Harlan, who had married musician and now business partner Matthew Pierce by then, bought the dilapidated building that became W.C. Harlan—and named it after her grandfather. “When we had traveled to Portugal and Spain to these little bars, we were like, ‘Why can’t we have this in Baltimore?’” she says. “We wondered, ‘Why can’t we have something simple at home that doesn’t have a long menu and cheesy décor and terrible lighting?’ We just wanted a good place to go.” Despite her gypsy soul, Harlan finally put down roots. “I decided to buy the building and I was like, ‘Okay, Baltimore is where I live now.’”

With its Oaxacan textiles, handmade pottery, and calaveras (skulls), Clavel is an exotic Eden that oozes authenticity.

With its well-curated craft beer menu and dark, candlelit interior, W.C. Harlan was an immediate hit in the ’hood. “I took everything out of my apartment, including the books and paintings, and put them at W.C. Harlan,” she says, laughing.

And then, in 2015, thanks to W.C. Harlan’s success came Clavel, inspired by a trip Harlan and her husband had taken to Oaxaca years earlier, where she first learned about mezcal, the distilled spirit derived from agave plants.

“I was sitting in a mezcaleria in Oaxaca, and I geeked out,” she recalls. “It felt like something so special to me. This is about people, this is about farming, and this is about traditions. Mezcal is made like it was five or six generations ago where people are harvesting the wild agave with the donkey or the pickup truck and then cooking it in an underground oven, open-air fermenting it, and distilling it in little clay pots.”

These days, Harlan features about 75 bottles of mezcal on Clavel’s menu and is so bent on increasing understanding about the special spirit that she travels with her bartenders to Oaxaca every year. “They need to see what I see and know in order for this to work,” she says.

Another secret to Clavel’s success is that it transports diners as they sit under the strings of white lights. With its Oaxacan wall textiles, handmade pottery, calaveras (skulls), and artfully placed objets, Clavel is an exotic Eden that oozes authenticity. “It’s set up for you to be welcomed into a memory and feeling of being somewhere else,” explains Harlan. “I remember being in a courtyard in Mexico when Clavel wasn’t even a thought, but I was sitting there, and I’m like, ‘I feel so warm and I’m a little drunk and I smell food and the lights are above me and I’m in an open space,’ and that’s what we wanted people to feel at Clavel.”

In many ways, Harlan took what she learned from her experience with the corporate hospitality world and did the exact opposite. “The corporate structure says that you go to a table and give the spiel,” notes Harlan. “Everyone wears the same thing, and you treat the guests who have a lot of money better than anyone else. You make money and put on a show, and no one cares about your bad day.”

At both of her businesses, servers wear whatever they want and she refers to her staff, with whom she eats lunch at Clavel around 2 p.m. many days, as “family.” It’s clear that the feeling is mutual. “Most of us come here on our days off to hang out with each other,” says server Christina Joseph. Adds bartender Viveca Licata, “She cares about us and respects us deeply.” “We’ve all worked in restaurants before,” says bartender André Barnhill, “but Lane takes this humanistic approach to people. Just last week, I was telling someone there was a laundry list of reasons why I love working here—and then [Lane] instituted free quarterly massages for us.”

Several hours before Clavel’s peach-colored door reading “bienvenidos” opens for service at 5 p.m., Harlan readies for the evening. Her afternoon is a busy one. After eating chicken gorditas washed down by what is jokingly called agua orina (“urine water” made from leftover pineapple skins) with her staff, she “grades” a stack of quizzes on the finer points of mezcal that she’s given to her bartenders and a busser who wants to become a server (sample question: “What’s your favorite dish on the menu and why?”), and art-directs local artist Jessica Soulen, who is painting an outdoor mural inspired by 1950s Mexican poster art.

“I thought I’d be a dandy living abroad,” says Lane Harlan, “but instead I’m providing for the dandies.”

Harlan also confers with her sister’s boyfriend’s brother, Mexican-born co-owner Carlos Raba, who runs the kitchen. For Raba, Clavel’s kitchen is like a return to his Sinaloan childhood, as he prepares staples such as Ceviche Sinaloense (shrimp cured in lime and chiles) and Cochinita Pibil (pork in bitter orange and achiote), passed down from his grandmother. (“When we opened, his mother and aunt came here to make sure we were living up to the recipes,” says Harlan, smiling.)

Raba recalls that when Harlan approached him about the idea of opening a restaurant, he was a manager at a Giant Food Store and had no formal experience. “When she said, ‘We should open something together,’ I thought she was joking,” he says. And then, when it became clear that she was serious, he was hesitant but felt bolstered by Harlan’s confidence. “We knew we couldn’t fail,” he says. “There was too much passion. She has a strong, beautiful energy.”

As customers stream in and the line starts to build, Harlan radiates a sense of calm and contentment. For today at least, she isn’t going anywhere, other than off her barstool to greet her customers, many of whom she knows by name.

“I thought I’d be a dandy living abroad and writing and dining out, but instead I’m providing for the dandies,” says Harlan as she takes a small sip of Champagne left from an earlier tasting. “I’ve given up the ghost—I’m exactly where I want to be as I cultivate a community.”