Chris Tsonos was bitten by the cooking bug at the age of 14, while working in a deli in his home state of Virginia.

“It just clicked,” says Tsonos, who has worked in various Baltimore kitchens, including Golden West, Parts & Labor, and The Royal Blue. “There was something about the rhythm of the kitchen that made sense to me.”

That sense of rhythm never left him, in the kitchen—or out of it. A lifelong musician, he once played at the famed CBGB, the birthplace of punk rock. So it stood to reason that when he opened his own cafe, music became his guiding inspiration.

“Animal Boy is a Ramones album,” says Tsonos. “It’s not my favorite Ramones album, but I think it’s one of the coolest names you could have for a sandwich shop—it doesn’t make any sense, but it’s fun.”

Why did you want to own a sandwich shop?
It’s the best way to eat anything. I’ve always liked sandwiches. It’s the perfect vessel to present something in and you can get all kinds of flavors and combinations in a single assembly to enjoy. Who doesn’t love a sandwich?

Is there a connection between being a musician and a cook?
Cooks are more into the wild side of things because working in a kitchen is chaos. It’s organized chaos. That’s like a band. You know where you’re going and what you need but you never know what’s going to happen in between it all. There’s always a wrench to be thrown.

What did you want to do with the décor?
A lot of the vibe of the cafe is based off the album cover, with black, orange, yellow, and blue, and all sorts of random punk stuff.

I know you also use the cafe as a gallery space for artists to hang their work.
We have one piece by an artist by the name of Brian Costello. He did a logo of The Grateful Dead of the skull with the lightning bolt. To make the image, he overlayed the words to their songs to create an image. We rotate our art every first Friday of the month.

Tell me about the menu.
You have to be as classic as you can but I like to do my own twist on things. Of course, there needs to be an Italian hoagie. That’s one of the best sandwiches in the world. Layers of cured meat and vegetables come together for this great mouthfeel. And then there’s SPP. We call it South Philly Pork—I lived in South Philly down the road from John’s Roast Pork, which served roast pork with broccoli rabe. I always thought that was one of the best sandwiches.

How did working in so many kitchens help you open Animal Boy?
After learning from different chefs, I’ve always known I’d open my own place. I kept progressing until slowly, but surely, it turned into Animal Boy.

Scavenger Hunt: It’s hard for me to come up with one word or phrase to describe our home’s style. Maybe Scavenger’s Delight? I asked our son —ages 9 and 12—and they said: unique, vintage, colorful, fun, quirky, and “skibidi.”

Gem of a Neighborhood: Our house is a multi-family-zoned Victorian built in 1915 and is located in the northernmost part of our beloved Lauraville neighborhood. Until we moved in, the house had been stewarded by generations of the same family. We reconfigured the layout so that it functions as a single-family home. We removed an ancient upstairs kitchen and built a staircase to connect what were originally two self-contained apartments.

Rainbow Bright: When I was in my early twenties, I visited the Museo Robert Brady in Cuernavaca in Morelos, Mexico. I was in awe of the bold, vibrant, anything-goes spirit of Brady’s home, and I remember thinking—I want my house to feel like this. So, when we began the process of making our house into a home, I decided that I would simply grab whatever I felt attracted to—regardless of style, color, or era. Somehow, it all works together.

Artist-in-Residence: Our first floor is very open (we knocked down a bunch of walls), so we all kind of float around in that space, which includes our living room, dining room, family room, and kitchen. We spend a lot of time making art and doing sewing and craft projects at the dining room table. It has a glass top, so it’s very easy to clean up, a good thing because there are always paint and permanent marker-based activities happening around here. We also love to cuddle up on our giant couch for movie nights and game nights.

To Market, To Market: I am a big scavenger. I love sourcing things from Buy Nothing groups, estate sales, eBay, Savers, and I even grab stuff from the side of the road. But out of everything, flea markets are my favorite. I’ve organized a few huge community flea markets at “The Lot,” our wonderful community gathering space.

The Kids are Alright: I want the kids to feel like they can have input about the entirety of the house, not just their rooms. So, if they want to grab a piece of furniture from a room and put it somewhere else, or if they want to move their room from one place to another—it’s a big rambling old house, so there are options—I want them to feel empowered to do that. They both have very strong personal aesthetics, and they go to a democratic school (Arts & Ideas Sudbury School), so they are very comfortable calling the shots.

It was the early 2010s when classical pianist Tyler St. Clare found himself at odds with his career path.

“I love piano, and I would never dissuade anyone from pursuing it at a high level,” says the 38-year-old Baltimore native, pictured right, above. “But the sacrifices you have to make to follow the traditional path to success just weren’t appealing.”

Long hours of practice for constant auditions were stresses that St. Clare decided to put behind him when he hatched the plan for Four Hour Day.

Named for a novel written by his father, Gabe, a retired machinist, pictured left above, about a utopian society, Four Hour Day was conceived as a luthier shop to build and repair stringed instruments and also offer private acoustic music lessons. The duo set to work transforming a house in Lauraville, opening its doors to the public in 2015.

Today, the welcoming shop exudes the warmth of a wooden cottage or timeworn meditative space. Paintings adorn the walls, Tibetan prayer flags hang from the rafters, and a tidy workshop overlooks it all from a mezzanine in the rear.

Up there, Tyler repairs and restores a range of folk instruments, from flutes to ukeleles, imbuing the space with aromas of fresh-cut wood, polishes, and oils. Large panel windows look out onto Harford Road, illuminating the interior with soft lighting, amplifying its organic vibe. And in the decade since opening, the shop has expanded, to Tyler’s surprise, into a live-music venue, too.

“I guess there’s a demand for intimate spaces like this—people started calling up and asking, ‘Hey, can we play your room?’ and it took off from there,” he says.

Able to accommodate up to 60 patrons, the main room hosts touring musicians, as well as jam sessions, dances, classes, and lectures. The second floor is divided into three well-equipped private-lesson studios, which altogether host 10 teachers and 100 students. Lessons are available for piano, cello, violin, guitar, mandolin, and more. These rooms also sport basic recording gear, like Apple’s Garage Band, MIDI controllers, and microphones, enabling students to hear their work and explore the practical side of music theory.

“For me, teaching music is just as much about understanding composition and arranging as the instrument itself,” says Tyler. “I want students to explore their creativity and learn about that stuff, because there have to be more paths to creative success in music.”

But spend a few minutes inside Four Hour Day and it becomes obvious that this is more than just a lesson space or venue; it’s a hive of musicians, a haven for gentle spirits and deep thinkers, and a community of acoustic-music enthusiasts.

“We want to keep growing by just doing what we’re doing,” says Tyler. So far, that seems to be working just fine.

Stepping into Found Studio Shop, a retail gift shop in Lauraville, feels like the most genuine hug from a friend. Everything is bright, fun, and comfortable—with just a touch of sass—which is exactly how owner Kacey Stafford designed it.

“One of my favorite things to do is get together a collection of things that are beautiful and functional and bring joy,” drawls the Kentucky native. “I want people to walk in here and sigh, ‘Ahhh.’ This is the ultimate retail therapy destination.”

The shop is a veritable emporium of gifting, stocking everything from jewelry and chocolate to bath and body products, pillows and cocktail shakers, and adorable goods for babies and children.

Stafford, 45, carries an extensive collection of paper goods and clever cards and plenty of fashionable housewares. Many of the items are locally sourced from Baltimore-based artists and some of Stafford’s employees are makers themselves.

The store is the brick-and-mortar embodiment of Stafford’s personality, equal parts Southern charm and endless creativity. A mixed media artist—you may be familiar with her “BMORE KIND” sticker—Stafford received a degree in art education at Murray State University in her home state and began her career as an art teacher in public schools.

Eighteen years ago, when her husband, Scott, needed to relocate for work, it brought the couple to Baltimore, where they fell in love with the quaint neighborhood of Waltherson, in northeast Baltimore. They set down roots and have been dedicated to that community ever since.

As much as she enjoyed teaching, and supporting public schools in particular, Stafford didn’t feel it was her life’s vocation. Her father owned a furniture store and her grandfather a nursery and landscaping business. Even though she knew the challenges of entrepreneurship, she always felt called to the world of independent retail. She ditched teaching and, “decided I would listen to what was pulling at my heartstrings—I wanted a shop.”

Stafford joined forces with Carmen Brock and helped open Red Tree in Hampden in 2006—it later morphed into the much-loved Trohv—but left three years later to have her children, now ages 10 and 13. (Trohv closed in 2022.)

“When I left Trohv I said, ‘I probably won’t ever do a store again’—because it’s so demanding and takes over your life,” she recalls. But then an opportunity arose in 2019 for her to have a tiny, 250-square-foot niche shop within Red Canoe Café, right in the heart of her own neighborhood. “I thought, well, this is a good, low-risk way to find out if this is still my passion. And as soon as I opened, I was like, ‘Oh my gosh, I’ve missed this so much.’ This is my passion. This is my gift.”

The little store took off. While Stafford acknowledges that retail is no joke, she says that Baltimore will turn out for the right kind of store.

“Baltimore doesn’t want a cookie-cutter world, and they don’t want vacant Main Streets or just big-box stores,” she says. “Baltimore supports and shows up for its local businesses and local artists.”

The origin story of what is now Found Studio is as much the story of a building as it is a store. Despite the pandemic being “the universe giving me a slap in the face,” Stafford knew she would need to expand when online school ended—she was home with a kindergartener and a third grader—and the world went back to normal. And she knew just where she wanted to go: a building on Lauraville’s main street on the same block as Red Canoe and near her friend and fellow local retailer, Christina Brunyate, who owns Domesticity Sewing Studio.

The building had history; it had been everything from a pleasure club in the ’80s to, more recently, a DIY home projects store. But it had stood vacant since 2015, and Stafford had always kept her eye on it. In a twist of fate that can only happen in Smalltimore, the building’s owner turned out to be Stafford’s neighbor. It took a year—and a whole lot of that Southern charm—for him to agree to sell.

“It took a lot of negotiations and meetings, and I finally convinced him with my nice Southern drawl and a couple glasses of bourbon,” she quips.

She and her husband acquired the building in November 2022. What ensued was a frantic year of constant work. Dead birds, dust, and detritus were cleared out. Stafford secured a Project Restore grant from the state and a façade improvement grant from Baltimore Development Corporation. Although a contractor did the heavy lift of HVAC, electrical, and plumbing, Stafford and her husband did much of the work themselves, customizing every inch of the store with an artist’s eye. They painted all the floors and laid intricate patterns of tile in the bathrooms, along with designer Gary Godbey.

Almost every piece of furniture was purchased at Second Chance, through Facebook Marketplace, or is a hacked piece from Ikea. A group of volunteers helped paint furniture. The pièce de résistance is the accent wall behind the register area that Stafford painted herself in her signature mixed-media style. The paint was barely dry when Found Studio opened, just in time for holiday shoppers.

The store’s tagline is appropriately “curated by an artist.” A committed member of the Charm City Craft Mafia, where she’s been on the board since 2011, Stafford carries many things by local artists and makers. For example, she says they can’t keep Hon’s Honey products on the shelves. (The Baltimore-based social enterprise sells honey products made by survivors of human trafficking.) She carries cutting boards made by woodworker Deirdre Smith from trees that naturally fall on her Baltimore County farm, prints, notecards, and paintings by local artists like Emily Uchytil and Gertie Smith, and candles and soap crafted by Mount Royal Soaps.

The second story of Found Studio is used as a rotating gallery space for artists and for events. Local papercut artist Annie Howe has a small studio space there, too. In the future, Stafford would like to get back to her teaching roots and offer classes in the space.

“I think this vibe is very Baltimore City-centric,” she says of the store. That local edge is important to Stafford, as she finds retail to be as much about community as it is commerce. “Creating community is the part I love,” she says. “We have a lot of regulars who come in and people come here to be surrounded by beauty and to forget about their cares, if only for a few minutes.”

For all the whimsy of its wares, it is Stafford who brings the magic to Found Studio Shop.

From the number of people who volunteered to help her and Scott get the shop open, to the dedicated customers who swing by just to say hello—and Stafford always remembers everyone’s name—it’s clear that she is a fixture in Lauraville, a splash of Southern comfort in a Natty Boh town.

This piece appeared in our March 2024 issue. For more great Baltimore stories, consider becoming a subscriber.

When Sam and Paul Mincarelli traveled to the Abruzzo region in 2019, it was a life-changing experience.  “It was love at first visit,” says Paul, whose family hails from Campli in the Abruzzo region.

Sam was equally smitten. “Abruzzo is untouched by American tourism,” she says. “That kind of travel experience is incredibly hard to find—and of course the food is incredible.”

The duo was so taken, they ditched their jobs with an eye toward opening a restaurant inspired by Abruzzo cuisine. Before opening their own place, they worked as managers at Allora to learn the fundamentals of running an Italian cafe. “We approached [Allora owner-chef] Brendon Hudson, who catered our wedding, and asked if we could work for him,” says Sam.

After a year at the Mt. Vernon cafe, they made a go of it on their own and leased a space inside a new condo complex in Lauraville. By mid-November of last year, they opened Café Campli, featuring the foods of Abruzzo and open for lunch and dinner.

Before going into hospitality, Sam and Paul had other careers—she’s an architect (and now double-times at the restaurant), he spent four years working for the Baltimore Police Department as a policy writer—but their true passion was food. “This was a dream come true,” says Paul.

What’s distinct about this region?
Paul: It’s a geographically and biologically diverse region. In its western frontier, it’s the Apennine Mountains and the high plains. There’s a lot of room for grazing, but the weather is such that you’re only going to grow things like legumes and lentils and that cascades down to the Adriatic, so you have more land for olives and wine cultivation. Then you have the Adriatic coast, so there’s this bountiful seafood harvest. There is something for every season.

Talk about the concept.
Paul: We knew we wanted to do an Italian cafe, a place where you could go at any point in the day.

What did you want to do with your menu?
Paul: We wanted to highlight dishes that we enjoyed in Abruzzo but keep in mind that true Italian cooking is using what’s nearby. This summer, for example, we will do seafood from Abruzzo, but will use Chesapeake and Mid-Atlantic ingredients such as striped bass or rainbow trout, so thinking of those roots but not ignoring local ingredients. What the Italians do is sleight of hand. The fewest ingredients possible put together simply but perfectly.

What did you learn at Allora?
Sam: I watched how Brendon stayed calm and moved with deliberation, even under pressure.

Talk about the design of the space.
Sam: You can combine different vibes and have them feel harmonious. I was inspired by Pescara, a midcentury modern mecca, but  there’s also a beachy vibe. I am also a big fan of antiques, so there are some items here that reflect that.

How do you hope to set yourself apart on the scene?
Paul: We want to have this Mediterranean feel here. Don’t order online—come and enjoy the space.

Tell me a little about your journey to Found Studio Shop. How did you get into art and then switch over to running your own business?
I’ve been making art since I was a teenager in the ’90s. I studied art education and became an art teacher for several years. I have always wanted to own a creative business, and when I was out of college and teaching, I continued to feel that pull. In 2006, I had an incredible opportunity to open what is now Trohv [then Red Tree] in Hampden with my husband and two other friends. I took that opportunity and helped run the shop for a few years until I decided to have children and stay home, producing my art in my home studio. Then I became involved with the Charm City Craft Mafia, helping with a wonderful team of makers to produce craft fairs.

When did you know it was time to open your store?
I wasn’t sure that I would ever own another shop. Balancing a shop plus all the things—helping produce the craft fairs, making my work, and raising two now elementary-aged kids—seemed like a bit much. However, last January, I was approached by Josie Rhodes, one of the owners of Red Canoe Café, about the possibility of creating a “tiny shop” within the café. It seemed to me like the perfect scenario: a tiny shop in my favorite café, three minutes from my house. It all fell together, and I couldn’t refuse.

Found Studio Shop is located in Lauraville. How has running a store in an up-and-coming neighborhood—as opposed to being in Hampden, which is such a shopping hub—been different?
It’s been different for sure. Of course, I don’t have an amazing amount of foot traffic in Lauraville. However, Lauraville and the surrounding northeast Baltimore neighborhoods have been extremely supportive and are intentional about shopping locally. Lauraville is starting to make a name for itself, and several new retail businesses and restaurants are popping up along the Harford Road corridor.

A block away is Domesticity Fabric & Craft Studio, which is the perfect complement to my shop. We have many of the same customers. The owner Christina Brunyate has many people finding her shop weekly. People come to her, she sends them down to me and the café, or people find me, and I send them to her. I think all of us—business owners and residents alike—want to make sure that we are all successful and send business to each other. Plus, this is where I have lived and owned a house for the past 15 years. There’s nothing like living and working in your own community.

How do you choose what products to sell at Found Studio Shop?
I tell people all the time that, because of the size of my shop, I really have to choose cohesive products that display well together. Most, but certainly not all, of the products I sell are locally and regionally made. I am paying attention to our carbon footprint. Most of these products have not traveled far. Many of the artists that sell in my shop could easily walk from their homes and studios. It goes without saying that high quality “crafts-womanship,” beauty, purpose, and a reasonable price point also go into my decision of whether or not to choose a product. I have to love the product myself, or I won’t feel comfortable selling it.

What is your favorite product at the moment?
That’s a really tough question because I love everything I sell. One of my favorite items right now is Hon’s Honey Lip Balm, if I must pick one. I give one to everyone who works at the shop and everyone I want to give a little “I’m thinking of you” gift. Hon’s Honey supports women survivors in South Baltimore, helping them get back on their feet through job training and intentional community. An excellent product and mission? You can’t beat that.

What does the future look like for Found Studio?
We are coming up on our first anniversary in April, and I want to launch an online shop by then. Workshops are in the works for this year. Many people are asking for them, and as a trained art teacher, I do actually love teaching and gathering with others who are open to learning something new. I hope to host not only my own workshops, but other workshops in many other creative genres, as well.

Just weeks before her third baby was due, Christina Brunyate was craving a day trip to her favorite fabric shop in New York City.

“Going to a fabric shop—if you love textiles—it’s like therapy,” the Mayfield mother of four says. Brunyate never made it to New York that day, but it made her realize how disappointed she felt by Baltimore’s lack of fabric supply stores. So she decided, on a whim, to open Domesticity Fabric Shop and Sewing Studio.

Although she had no prior small-business experience, Brunyate found an affordable 250-square-foot space above Chop Shop Salon in Lauraville and, in May 2017, opened the kind of fabric store she’d been looking for.

She wanted to fill Domesticity with a collection of eye-catching and environmentally conscious textiles that rejected dull tones and traditional styles in favor of bright designs with clean lines and unique prints. Since she was taking care of two toddlers and a newborn at the time, the shop was only open three days a week, but Brunyate knew she was onto something.

“After I paid my rent for the first three months with [the profits from] opening weekend, I thought, ‘Maybe this will actually work,’” she says.

Since then, Domesticity has not only become a go-to spot for local makers to buy fabrics made from natural fibers as opposed to mass-produced fabrics, it’s now a community hub with stitching workshops and events. Brunyate hosts a handful of monthly events where attendees come to craft, stitch, and sip wine with the proceeds benefitting local organizations such as the House of Ruth or Baltimore Ceasefire.

With an ever-growing community of shoppers, it comes as no surprise that Brunyate’s operation quickly outgrew its one-room shop. In April 2018, she invested in an empty storefront just a few doors down and is planning to expand into the 2,200-square-foot spot by the end of this year.

“[There’s] a really good community here that wants to support you, and I’m just happy to help the city,” she says. Baltimore, Brunyate says, is worth investing in.

In the beginning (okay, summer 2008), a bar opened along Harford Road with homespun décor, a total smokeshow of a burger, and a killer selection of local craft beer. Its name was Hamilton Tavern, and it was good.

So good, in fact, that it was almost instantly lavished with laurels from this and many other publications: “Best Bar,” “Best Burger,” even “Best Bathroom” for its restrooms wallpapered with pages from literary classics. It was also—though we could hardly have known it at the time—very 2008.

In the summer of 2008, the economy was tanking and the conspicuous consumption of the early aughts was becoming passé. Coupled with the already underway farm-to-table boom, the recession birthed a generation of eateries that showcased a deliberately rustic aesthetic and a menu full of hearty classics served in skillets and Mason jars, a trend that romanticized Depression-era poverty for today’s audience. With antique farm tools adorning the walls, dark wood accents, and a menu full of pub grub, Hamilton Tavern neatly fit this bill, though, to its credit, it never seemed as contrived as some of its brethren.

But time marches on, the economy recovered (right?), and trends evolved. Perhaps more importantly, Hamilton Tavern’s original owners sold the business in 2016 to neighborhood resident Joel Ramos. So what is Hamilton Tavern, version 2019 like?

Pretty much the same, and that is mostly a good thing. The sign above the bar telling patrons not to discuss religion or politics is still there, and perhaps more needed than ever. Brewer’s Art’s Resurrection Ale is still on tap, and the menu still plays to the hits: Natty Boh-battered onion rings full of crunch and bigger than most dog collars; the Crosstown burger, a towering mass of Roseda Farm beef, melted cheddar, and “sticky-spicy” bacon; and crisp, hand-cut potato chips.

But there are subtle signs of change, too, most evident in the chef’s daily specials, which display an inventiveness and finesse that can approach fine dining.

On a recent visit, my dining companion and I split the difference between the classic and the contemporary with my friend ordering the burger, while I opted for the “Fishy Friday” special of pan-seared scallops with polenta gnocchi in a creamy broth studded with local corn and tomatoes, plus house-made chorizo. A mini patty pan squash, hollowed out and stuffed with scallop mousse, provided additional accompaniment.

The burger was its usual stellar self and arrived medium-rare—as ordered—an overabundance of salt in the patty its only flaw. The special, meanwhile, was a revelation, bursting with late-summer flavors and rich textures.

An appetizer special, a late summer plate of fried green tomatoes, encrusted with Utz potato chips and accompanied by corn, crab meat, and a drizzle of spicy chipotle mayo, was similarly decadent.

Executive chef Jeremy Price—a veteran of the late, great Clementine—gets credit for these creations, as he does for adding handmade pasta to the specials rotation and thoughtfully expanding the menu to include the occasional non-Western comfort food dish (a banh mi here, a ramen dish there). These touches help Hamilton Tavern feel relevant and fresh after more than a decade.

HAMILTON TAVERN 5517 Harford Rd., 410-426-1930. HOURS: Sun. 4:30-9 p.m., Mon.-Wed. 4:30-10 p.m., Thurs.-Sat. 4:30-11 p.m., Saturday lunch 11:30 a.m.-3 p.m., Sunday brunch 10:30 a.m.-3 p.m. PRICES: Appetizers: $6-12; entrees: $7-24.

On a humid Thursday evening in early August, Lutheran pastor Emily Scott welcomed 22 attendees to the first meeting of her new church in the room of a local bookstore. Scott led the congregation in a short song and introduced herself by mentioning her preferred pronouns: she, her, hers.

The pioneer congregants followed suit. Specifying pronouns is an unusual thing to see at church, but learning the basic nuances of each individual’s gender identity set the progressive tone for Scott’s nascent LGBTQ-focused church in Baltimore.

“There’s an awareness within the mainstream Protestant world that many churches have been places of exclusion, and that’s something we really need to break out of,” says Scott, a 37-year-old graduate of Yale Divinity School. “I wanted to first make my identity as a queer woman very clear.”

She explains that inclusion, informality, and community were top priorities for her church’s dynamic, and she wants its development to be a community effort. She even delayed choosing a name until she and a more established congregation can collaborate to do so. For now, she calls it “Imagine a Church Baltimore.”

This is not her first foray into church establishment. She is a church planter, according to her website, meaning she creates new spiritual communities from scratch. For the past decade, Scott worked as the primary pastor at St. Lydia’s Dinner Church in Brooklyn, New York, the first church she founded.

Like Imagine a Church Baltimore, St. Lydia’s was dedicated to social justice and paid specific attention to the needs of LGBTQ Christians that she said typically go unaddressed within mainstream ministries. Scott said she loved working at St. Lydia’s but, as it grew into a more stable institution and a national news story (covered by The Atlantic and The Wall Street Journal), she wanted to bring her expertise and enthusiasm to a new community, and she quickly settled on Baltimore.

“Before I moved, I’d been really drawn to Baltimore for a number of years,” says Scott. “Baltimore is filled with people who are invested in the city. I’m really moved by all the community-based activism and grassroots movements.”

Scott’s first service integrated classic elements of church—a sermon, a biblical recitation, and a few more songs—with practices that are seldom found inside typical places of worship, including the discussion of pronouns and queer identities. Imagine a Church Baltimore also has no brick-and-mortar space, so in lieu an official location, Scott borrowed a room from Red Canoe in Lauraville.

This past March, Scott left New York and purposely settled near Lauraville, a neighborhood she said has a notably large LGBTQ community. In order to spread the word about her church, Scott set up shop at Baltimore Pride in June with a photo booth where people could pose against a halo under the words “The Divine Shines in You.” She also regularly runs a booth at the Hamilton-Lauraville farmers’ market on Tuesday evenings, and is active on Imagine a Church Baltimore’s Facebook page, which currently has 136 followers.

“Part of my job is to listen to the community and build something in response to what I hear, so I’m trying to engage with the people here in any way that I can,” says Scott, who credits a large portion of her decision to move here to Bishop Bill Gohl of the Delaware-Maryland Synod. “He is incredibly affirming of LGBTQ folks. It’s rare to find this level of support for a church like mine.”

Scott said Gohl has also encouraged her to use her church for social justice as well as religious refuge for marginalized people, and she said several potential congregants have suggested social justice work within church services as well. Following the first meeting, Scott asked the attendees what sort of church they are imagining: “a place of acceptance,” “a place to welcome new faces and celebrate new friends,” “a place that sounds like shared laughter,” and “music—not only hymns” were some ideas.

The second meeting, tentatively set for September, will focus on names in both a symbolic, identity-focused sense as well as a tangible discussion of what to call the church going forward. However, Scott stresses that Imagine a Church Baltimore is not just a stand-in title or a concise phrase for its congregants to hashtag on social media. It’s a call to action for Baltimoreans who have felt rejected or ostracized by organized Christianity before.

“I’m dreaming about a place that feels free and reflects the broad diversity of Baltimore,” says Scott. “I want to create a place that doesn’t feel defined by respectability but instead by the big, wild, messy way that God made us. Ultimately, it’s the people that come to this ministry who are going to create what it becomes.”

For more than 20 years, the property at the corner of Montebello Terrace and Harford Road in Lauraville has sat vacant, a spot of blight in the neighborhood’s otherwise charming business district. But there may soon be new life on the lot, as the site is transformed into a commercial kitchen open to community members and businesses alike.

The idea stems from the success of the Tuesday evening farmers’ market, which has been offering both fresh produce and prepared foods on the lot—once a gas station with a three-bay service garage—since 2009.

“It became apparent that there were so many people who wanted to participate [as vendors] in our little evening market, but they had no access to a commercial kitchen,” says Regina Lansinger, the director of Hamilton-Lauraville Main Street. “This would be answering a big need. It would allow [potential vendors] to do not just our market, but any farmers’ market, and not just farmers’ markets but their own businesses.”

The project, officially called Main Street Kitchen at the Lot, could cost upwards of $700,000 and is still in the fundraising stage. But it has already secured a pledge of $250,000 from the state, and an additional $50,000 from local backers. Part of that $50,000 came from local businesses that are selling paper lemons for $5 donations, an effort that plays off the black and yellow mural painted on the old garage that reads, “Help turn this [lemon] into LEMONADE.”

Once completed, Lansinger says the 1,800-square-foot building will house a health department-approved kitchen with multiple ovens, cooktops, fryers, tables, and workspaces. Workstations will be rentable for an hourly fee, and she hopes the space will be used by both professionals and amateurs looking for extra room for special projects. Main Street Kitchen also will become the latest community food space in Baltimore, following B-More Kitchen on York Road and Baltimore Food Hub in East Baltimore.

Richard Marsiglia, president of the board of Hamilton-Lauraville Main Street, says the kitchen is part of a broader plan for the site. “The main goal of the project is to become a town square,” he says. “There’ll always be something happening at the lot.”

For more on Baltimore’s “Hidden Gem Neighborhoods,” pick up the April issue of Baltimore magazine, on newsstands now.

Half-Up Top Knot

1. Comb hair back and pull half up in a scrunchie*, loosely breaking up bumps.
2. Make a loop out of ponytail, twist and pin down.
3. Twist and pin down loose ends.
4. Use a second mirror to look at the back, pin down any loose ends.
5. Spray hairspray on a fine tooth comb and comb hair back to get rid of fuzz or bumps.

*Don’t use elastic hair tie—can even be made from old tights!

Beach Waves

1. Spray crown of head with hairspray.
2. Take a small section of hair and spray it with hairspray to “laminate.”
3. Using 1.5-inch curler, wrap entire strand around (including tail) and curl into lip.
4. Hold curler on hair for 30 seconds.
5. Be gentle as you take hair out of curler, releasing the lip a bit as you go.
6. Alternate sections by using hairspray on some and none on others for natural look.
7. Don’t be afraid to comb and curl out and redo if you’re not happy with it.
8. Once all sections are curled, pull hair back, lift up, and hairspray a bit inside hair.
9. Take hands and shake curls from the scalp.

Low Bun

1. Divide the hair into sections.
2. In middle section, twist hair around three middle fingers and secure down with pins to create base.
3. Wrap section by section, using three fingers, around base and secure with pins.
4. Alternate wrapping both over and under bun.
5. Hairspray from high angle to create a looser look.

Baltimore Beehive

1. Divide hair into three main sections.
2. Leave two sections out in the front of your ears.
3. Spray the hair with hairspray from afar.
4. Take smaller sections of remaining hair and start backcombing*, spraying as you go.
5. Layer by layer, make big loops, pinning them each into the teased hair.
6. Form a giant base.
7. Take front sections, tuck behind ears, and pin into base.
8. Finish off with hairspray from afar, all over hair.
9. In order to get beehive out, let water run on teased area for a while, then apply a lot of conditioner.

Read more about Baltimore’s best salons in our January issue, on newsstands now.

“You can’t rush greatness,” is how the owners of Taste This—a postage-stamp-sized soul-food take-out spot on Harford Road—responded recently to an Instagram follower wondering when the eatery’s long-gestating second location in Charles Village was going to open. It’s also the restaurant’s foodie philosophy, as Taste This cooks all its mouth-watering proteins to order, a rarity at to-go operations where convenience is often valued over proper preparation. But since the Charles Village location finally opened in late October, more diners than ever are becoming hip to Taste This’s interpretations of slow-cooked Southern staples.

The menu, created by co-owners Craig Curbean and Dante Davis, offers an array of soul-food dishes, everything from barbecued chicken salad and smothered pork chops to barbecued ribs, wings, and baked potatoes loaded with decadent toppings. Basically, if you can picture it served at a summer picnic, it’s available.

We cut right to the chase and ordered the fried-chicken platter, which featured three fried wings served on a bed of buttery yellow rice along with two sides, all for just $7.95. (Other platter options include salmon, catfish, and spiced shrimp.) The chicken’s crispy golden skin and juicy, tender meat was addictive, so much so that we would have liked more of it! We’d happily pay an extra buck or two if it means the addition of a thigh or breast.

Out of the eight available sides—including collard greens, yams, string beans, potato salad, and garlic mashed potatoes—we opted for the mac and cheese and the more virtuous grilled asparagus. The mac and cheese was a dense hunk of gooey noodles, and the asparagus—slick with olive oil, generously peppered, and sprinkled with Parmesan—was an extravagant way to get in our daily serving of veggies.

On another visit, we tried The Canton ($14.95), a baked potato loaded with crabmeat, shrimp, butter, mac and cheese, cheddar cheese, and Old Bay. The cheesy-meaty-starchy trifecta probably took years off of our life, but it was worth it.

Speaking of over the top, Taste This serves breakfast until noon with options like red velvet pancakes and shrimp and grits, plus a house-made dessert of the month, which can range from peach cobbler to rice pudding. Whatever and whenever you order, it will likely be worth the wait.

›› Taste This: 4915 Harford Rd., 443-388-8478 and 102 E. 25th St., 443-563-2845. Hours: Tues.-Thurs. 10 a.m.-8 p.m., Fri.-Sat. 10 a.m.-9 p.m., Sun. 10 a.m.-5 p.m., closed Mon. Prices: $1.95-14.95.