[Editor’s Note: This piece was published as part of our October 2021 cover story “The Mighty Oyster.” Read the full package, here.]

 

When did oyster bars become the coolest places to eat? Over the past few years, these seafood spots have crept their way onto lists of the hippest dining establishments, and for good reason.

Like oysters, they’re the just-right mix of no-frills and fancy, encouraging a way of eating that’s steeped in nostalgia, supportive of the farm-to-table movement, and features a central communal dining space around which friends and strangers can come together even in divisive times. It’s a trend we hope is here to stay.

Order a dozen—or few—at any of these city favorites.

DYLAN’S OYSTER CELLAR

Hampden

The perfect oyster bar exists on a quiet corner in Hampden, where a mermaid mural mingles with a half-shell-eating Jesus collage and, in non-COVID times, happy hour includes Natty Boh tallboys and buck-a-shuck specials from their thoughtfully curated selection. Owners Dylan and Irene Salmon live up to their seafoody last name. 3601 Chestnut Ave.

THE LOCAL OYSTER

Mt. Vernon

From shucking on the city streets to a brick-and-mortar at Mount Vernon Marketplace (plus a new location coming soon), the L.O.’s beloved bivalve slinger Nick Schauman has played a vital part in making oysters cool again in Baltimore, with his casual bar being one of the best hangouts in town. 520 Park Ave.

FAIDLEY’S SEAFOOD

Downtown

It is a rite of passage to sit down to a paper plate of fat half-shells at the central raw bar of this O.G. seafood establishment in Lexington Market. In ole Bawlmer fashion, they serve them on the “flats,” or top shell, with lemon and a pack of Saltines. Order a beer, and be sure to chat up Lou if he’s your shucker. 203 N. Paca St.

MAMA’S ON THE HALF SHELL

Canton

Now in its 18th year, this Canton corner bar has become a Baltimore classic, with weekend afternoons usually overflowing with locals who have flocked for oysters nearly every way you can eat them, alongside freshly squeezed orange crushes and Orioles and Ravens games on the TV. An ideal Saturday afternoon. 2901 O’Donnell St.

THAMES STREET OYSTER HOUSE

Fells Point

For a while, this Fells Point seafood haven was the only game in town serving up fine-dining flights of oysters, but even as new spots have come onto the scene, theirs remain some of the cleanest shucks around. Their impressive oyster list includes top varieties from Canada to the West Coast. 1728 Thames St.

TRUE CHESAPEAKE OYSTER CO.

Hampden

The only oyster farm-owned restaurant in the state, this Whitehall Mill pillar is the outpost of its namesake aquaculture operation. Their Southern Maryland-raised Skinny Dipper and Huckleberry oysters are always hawked at their sleek bar, alongside elevated Chesapeake cuisine by locally loved chef Zack Mills. 3300 Clipper Mill Rd.

THE URBAN OYSTER

Mobile Pop-Up

Currently operating on a mobile basis, this Blackowned oyster pop-up can be found at the Baltimore Farmers Market on Sundays. It’s always worth waiting in line for chef Jasmine Norton’s fan-favorite chargrilled oysters, featuring flavor variations like barbecue-bacon-cheddar and teriyaki. Holliday & Saratoga Sts.

FARTHER AFIELD: Ryleigh’s Oyster, Lutherville-Timonium; Sailor Oyster Bar, Annapolis; Old Ebbitt Grill, Washington, D.C.; Pearl Dive, Washington, D.C.; Ruse, St. Michaels.

If Baltimore were a flavor, it would taste like melted marshmallow over a snowball, lemon juice from a peppermint stick, a fudgy Berger cookie, and all things crab. Both newbies and life-long locals alike pride themselves in Charm City’s fair share of native dishes, but there’s one in particular that has been forgotten over the years and is known to be quite the catch: the coddie.

The indigenous dish—a fried salt cod and potato cake sandwiched between two saltine crackers with a side of yellow mustard—traces back to the early 1900s when the Cohen family sold them in trucks all around Baltimore. The treat became an instant hit, and almost every business in the area had coddies for sale until the 1970s.

“Often they sold it as a snack, and [you] saw them on bars, that nature,” said Nancy Faidley Devine, owner of Faidley’s Seafood in Lexington Market. “They’ve been around for a long time. Of course, salt cod came over on the ships. I’m sure it goes way, way back when the sailors came across. They salted the fish to preserve it.”

But in their heyday, coddies were practically served everywhere, like candy shops, bars, and hot dog stands. While not as prevalent as they once were, the traditional snack still shows up on area menus.

Devine, 82, has been serving coddies at her restaurant since the 1960s and prepares them as traditionally as possible, using only onion, pepper, and parsley in the salt cod and mashed potato concoction just as the original did. They sell at least 300 coddies per week, and even though most people nowadays concentrate on the crab cake, they still have their share of die-hard customers who order eight coddies at a time.

Although she refuses to revamp the recipe in any way, Devine has exclusively considered creating something new out of the original that she thinks will do well with the public.

“It’s a delicious dish and a wonderful snack, and I keep thinking, ‘Boy, for somebody that would serve breakfast and serve a poached egg on a codfish cake, that would be delicious,’” Faidley said. “Codfish benedict, my new recipe.”

Other restaurants have also gotten creative with the classic dish including Dylan’s Oyster Cellar, whose owner, Dylan Salmon, frequented Faidley’s as a teenager for his coddie fix. He was drawn to the dish’s history and tradition, and has been serving it in his restaurant since the day it opened in lieu of the crab cake, which he joked he’s made too many of in his lifetime.

“I think it’s something that doesn’t pop off the menu to the eye, but once it’s ordered and tasted, you’ll remember it and you’ll come back to get it,” Salmon said. “It sits on the menu pretty boringly—with the salt and the mustard, none of that sounds good—but when you put it all together, it’s amazing.”

Unlike Faidley’s, Salmon’s coddie recipe is a bit more decorated. He adds paprika, onion powder, mustard powder, garlic, and other “secret spices for some love”—but not to the point where the original flavors are lost. He says the most important ingredient is the salt cod, which takes about two days to soften in a pot of water, and he is particular about keeping the potatoes fluffy. Salmon says maintaining the integrity of the core ingredients is key.

“I’ve seen some other places that have tried to like gild the lily,” he said. “But I’m used to having it on a paper plate with a packet of yellow mustard and a pack of saltines, and that’s the way I like it.”

Sean Fisher, chef at Mama’s on the Half Shell, also takes a special interest in the coddie, which he remembers having as a child when visiting his grandmother in Baltimore. She would make them herself and tell Fisher how she used to get them from candy stores in the ’20s for a couple of pennies each.

The coddie was one of the first items Fisher added to Mama’s menu, and just like Devine and Salmon, he serves them with saltines and mustard. He makes them similarly to the way his grandmother did, except he uses diced potatoes as opposed to mashed and rations the cake with more fish than what she did. Plus, he adds a bit of green onion for color.

“We keep it traditional at Mama’s because it’s a staple on the menu,” Fisher said. “We wanted to be a Baltimore chowder house, and we thought that would be the best staple, besides chowder of course.”

Fisher has tried messing around with a modernized version of the native treat— attempting fried codfish cake tacos at sister restaurant Nacho Mama’s—but customers are not fond of the change.

“People are drawn to it because of its simplicity,” he said. “Who doesn’t like a deep fried cod and potato cake served on saltine crackers with yellow mustard?”

Since opening in 2009, Jimmie & Sook’s Raw Bar and Grill in Cambridge has become known for its award-winning cream of crab soup. But some regulars might be surprised to learn that the staple hasn’t been on the menu since the very beginning.

“I actually didn’t open with the cream of crab,” says owner Amanda Bramble. “Mainly because I felt that, if I was going to have one on the menu, it had to be the best.”

An Eastern Shore girl through and through, Bramble recognized the importance of serving a quality cream of crab soup. Within the first year of opening the restaurant, a few of her cooks came together to experiment and craft a recipe.

“I remember one of them coming to me and saying, ‘Let’s do the cream of crab for the soup of the day,’” she recalls. “And I said, ‘Okay, but just make enough for the day. Because if it’s not awesome, then I don’t want any left over.’ But, sure enough, it was really good.”

Bramble’s version, which she says has the perfect consistency, is just one of many iterations of the seafood staple around town. Everywhere from Charm City to the Eastern Shore, area eateries continue to put their own stamp on soup loaded with lump crab and signature spices. And, no matter what their specialty—thick cream of crab or steamy Maryland crab—most agree that a good crab soup is all about the tradition behind it.

“What makes ours special is that it’s not that special,” says chef Sean Fisher of Mama’s on the Half Shell in Canton. “It’s an old-school recipe that we’ve used since the beginning.”

The recipe—which incorporates cabbage, potatoes, green beans, black pepper, and Old Bay, and arrives garnished with crab claws and lumps of meat—was created by late owner Patrick “Scunny” McCusker, who drew inspiration from the many restaurants that he worked at along the Eastern Shore.

“Marylanders take a lot of pride in things that originated here,” Fisher says. “And when they find a good recipe that they really like, they stick with it.”

Owner Billy Hughes of Barracuda’s Tavern in Locust Point—which celebrated its eighth anniversary last week—agrees that it’s best not to tamper with tradition.

“Every recipe that I use is from 100 years ago,” he says. “My crab soup is made exactly the same way my grandmother made it.”

Hughes says that the uniqueness of his Maryland crab soup lies in the stock, which is made with crabs sourced by Gaffney’s Back Fin in Highlandtown.

“We start with the crab shells, and make our own stock,” he explains, adding that it’s important to let the stock rest for at least one day before serving. “There are a lot of people who just use a vegetable or chicken stock. But the crab stock gives it some depth that you can’t get from any other base.”

Aside from the focus on local ingredients, Bramble adds that texture is key when crafting the perfect crab soup.

“There are some cream of crabs that are very thick and floury, and others that are thin and drenched in sherry. But ours is creamy and silky,” she says of her soup, which has continually won top honors at the annual Taste of Cambridge Crab Cook-Off. “It’s not a thick chowder, but not a light bisque either.”

Another Eastern Shore operation that has become synonymous with its cream of crab is Shore Boys—a soup startup that ships to more than 70 stores across the tristate area, including local bodegas like Eddie’s of Roland Park and Santoni’s in Glyndon.

Co-owner John Dodson started Shore Boys with his business partner, Tim Quinn, after the duo sold their Easton bar Legal Spirits Tavern eight years ago.

He says that the recipe—which has been lauded by local and national media alike—is simple and features a quality cream sherry: “There’s a lot of competition out there,” Dodson says. “But our soup has just a little bit of a bite. It finishes off really nicely and leaves you wanting more.”

Although many Marylanders are food purists (think crab cakes with saltines or snowballs with marshmallow), somewhere along the line, it became a preference for some to mix cream of crab and Maryland crab soup. At Mama’s on the Half Shell, for instance, Fisher serves a “half-and-half” bowl of Maryland crab soup topped with a ring of cream of crab.

“Sure, you get the old-school people who don’t believe in it,” Fisher says. “But if you’re willing to try it, it’s really good.”

Bramble says that, while her personal preference is to keep the two separate, she combines them at the restaurant per customer’s requests.

“If you’re asking my personal opinion, I think it’s against the crab gods to mix them,” she says. “But I’m also a big stickler for ‘You like what you like, and we’ll give you what you want.'”

Hughes, however, refuses to combine the two.

“I think it’s absurd,” he says, with a laugh. “That had to have been started by someone who wasn’t from here. If I have cream of crab on special, I won’t mix it. If people want to mix it, they can buy a bowl of each and do it themselves.”

No matter which side you come down on in the crab soup debate, something that all locals can agree on is the comfort that comes in every bowl.

“It just makes you feel good,” sums up Hughes. “It’s one of those dishes that takes you somewhere else.”