Like any business owners, Neill and Emily Howell, proprietors of The Corner Pantry, have weathered storms. In their case, the storm was a literal one—they opened for the first time in the middle of a massive nor’easter on Feb. 14, 2014, a snow-covered sign outside reading: “For the love of food.”

In a strange way, though, the snowstorm also gave them an opportunity for some free advertising. “On that first day, I was digging my car out in Rodgers Forge trying to get to the restaurant,” says Neill. “A news camera pulled up and said, ‘Hey, we’re doing something about the weather, do you want to talk to us?’ And I was like, ‘Sure’—I ended up talking about how I was trying to get out to open our new restaurant in Lake Falls Village.’”

Running a restaurant isn’t easy for anyone—unexpected events like snowstorms (or a pandemic, for that matter) can throw off your business, profit margins are slim, good labor is hard to find, sourcing ingredients is often an issue (look at the recent rise in the cost of eggs, for example)—and there’s always the threat of the short attention span of customers looking for the shiny new spot just down the road.

But for the past 11 years, the married couple of 15 years has built their business into a total success story. Even after a recent $1.6-million expansion that tripled the cafe’s footprint from 1,200 square feet to 3,600, it can still be hard to score a table.

On any given day of the week, their British-themed cafe in the Lake Falls Village shopping center, a stone’s throw from Mt. Washington, hums with hungry patrons seeking sophisticated breakfast and lunch fare that feels like something you’d find in The Big Apple.

And while they decline to discuss revenue, suffice it to say that no matter what time of day you go, there’s often a line that forms around the stanchions (there for crowd control), as people shuffle from the cold case filled with mango lassi chia seed puddings, turkey sandwiches, and Greek salads, past the pastries (scones, financiers, pasties, crumpets, carrot cake, and gluten-free treats) to the register. Not counting catering (which could be for 500 or more on a typical week), they serve roughly 7,000 customers a week, selling some 600 chocolate-chip cookies and 400 classic all-day egg and cheese sandwiches.

The Corner Pantry is busy because the elevated cafe fare, from an authentic fish and chips with mushy peas to the fantasic falafel and boffo breakfast biscuits, is made with as much care and attention as any fine-dining spot in the city. Here, no shortcuts are taken—from the “crisps” (that’s British for chips) that accompany the sandwiches to the raspberry jam, bacon, and sausage, just about everything is made from scratch in-house.

NEILL AND EMILY WANT TO BEAT THE STEREOTYPE THAT BRITISH FOOD IS BLAND, BEIGE, AND BORING.

Neill, 47, is British-born and Emily, 44, is an Anglophile, so despite the renovation, it was important for them to keep the modern British vibe intact with English touches, like the Clarke and Clarke wallpaper in the bathroom and the Chelsea Tex-tiles fabric that covers the pillows on the dining room banquettes.

“We didn’t want people to walk in and feel like they’re not in The Corner Pantry anymore,” says Emily of the dining room refresh.

But it’s the food more than the décor that speaks to The Corner Pantry’s British theme and the couple’s desire to beat the stereotype that British food is bland, beige, and boring.

“British food gets a bad rap,” says Neill, his British accent sharp as ever despite a few decades in the U.S. “It’s not just fish and chips and bangers and mash; there’s so much international influence.”

On an unusually spring-like day in February, the Howells are in a rare moment of repose in their contemporary Lutherville home, which sits on three bucolic acres and offers verdant views for as far as the eye can see. They’re always thinking about ways to continue to grow as a business, but after the months-long renovation to the cafe, including a new state-of-the-art kitchen with its top-of-the-line equipment, plus a dedicated area for baking and catering, they have finally reached a point where they can breathe a bit and take time to reflect.

“With the expansions, we’ve always been working toward the next thing, but right now there is no next thing,” says Emily. “We just want to keep the wheels turning. It’s scary being here for 11 years. We don’t want to become irrelevant or the ‘old place.’”

Relaxing at their heirloom Irish kitchen table is a rarity for the hard-working couple. When they’re not at work, they’re running their busy household, which includes daughter Annabelle, 14, son Clive, 11, and a lively Labrador, Windsor. (Their bulldog, Bessie, has passed on but is immortalized in The Corner Pantry’s logo.)

The airy foyer of their home tells more of their story. It’s filled with a mix of modern art, a round console with hefty coffee table tomes on Queen Elizabeth and Princess Diana, as well as various antiques passed down from Emily’s family. Over the staircase, there’s a prominent gallery wall with black-and-white bicycle diagrams from the British Army (a nod to Neill’s love of cycling, likely passed on by his dad, who worked as an armorer in the Army and was responsible for bike repair as part of his job). It’s a total blend of their worlds, which started on different sides of the Atlantic, but collided almost two decades ago when they met while working in New York City.

Emily, who grew up in Baltimore, attended Notre Dame Preparatory and holds a degree in visual communication from the University of Delaware. Right after graduating from college in 2002, she headed to New York City, landing a job as a receptionist at the famed Soho House, a private club in the Meatpacking District known for its celebrity clients.

“I didn’t even know what Soho House was when I first started working there,” says Emily. Soon, she advanced to a manager position in the reservations department, overseeing bookings for the likes of Kevin Costner, Gordon Ramsay, and Gwen Stefani. She was very much leading the life of a single girl in the big city. (At one point, she even appeared as an extra in the episode of Sex and the City that was filmed at Soho House. It’s the episode where Kim Cattrall’s Samantha gets busted after breaking into a private club.)

Neill grew up an ocean away in Colchester, England, and was first introduced to hospitality while working as a dishwasher at Sloppy Joe’s, an American/Tex-Mex-style restaurant in his hometown. “The food was terrible,” he says, laughing. “It was all microwaved, but we made our own pizza dough—and for 10 pounds, you could get a slice of pizza, a baked potato, and coleslaw all served on one plate.”

A struggling student, Neill left his formal education at 16 to attend culinary school in his hometown. “I barely passed,” he says of both his formal schooling and his culinary education. “I struggled with sitting down and someone giving me directions—my brain doesn’t fire up that way. I’m better at touching things, feeling things, working around chaos.”

After his father’s untimely death at 53, an 18-year-old Neill moved to London to escape his small-town existence and push away the pain. “It affected me then and affects me still,” he says quietly.

His first job in London was cooking in a hotel right next to Buckingham Palace. He lasted all of three months, turned off by the lack of fresh ingredients and culinary care.

“One of the chefs called out fish and chips and the sous chef went to the freezer and pulled out a frozen piece of fish to put it in the fryer—I was like, ‘This is not what I signed up for,’” he recalls.

He quickly moved on to working at The Grove Hotel, then the famed Langan’s, an iconic brasserie in the Mayfair section of London (a see-and-be-seen spot owned by actor Michael Caine at the time). The kitchen was run by Richard Shepherd, one of the first British chefs to win a Michelin star. “The menu was handwritten every day,” he says. (In fact, a framed menu from Langan’s holds a prominent position on the Howells’ kitchen wall.)

At Langan’s, Neill finally found what he was looking for. “When I walked in, I saw all the copper pots hanging and the flat burners and flames, and I was like, ‘This is what I want,’” he recalls. “When I was in that environment, that’s when it clicked for me.”

He started as a commis chef (a junior chef) in training and proved himself to be a fast study, quickly rising through the ranks to chef de partie (a line cook). He loved the chaos of the kitchen—and the after-hours camaraderie. In the rough-and-tumble, rogue lifestyle of the kitchen, he’d found a new home.

From there, he worked at Asia de Cuba, a swanky Ian Schrager five-star hotel restaurant in stylish Convent Garden, where he learned to work with global ingredients. “It  was a very strict kitchen,” says Neill. “You had to come on time and wear clean uniforms. The chef was trying to instill standards. I learned a lot there, especially how to create different flavors with Asian and Cuban and fusion flavors, which I still like to this day.”

At 24, full of energy and enthusiasm, Neill followed another chef who was headed to the United States. In 2004, he landed a job at Soho House, where he met Emily. They worked on different floors of the hotel but soon became friends (they admit to feeling some fireworks at the time). Two years later, Soho House sent them on a fateful catering trip to California for the two weeks of Oscar season. When Emily found out that Neill had been chosen to go on the trip, too, she says, “I tried to play it cool at first.”

It was a star-studded trip, with the couple even working Tom Cruise’s after-after Oscar party at the former home of Ian Fleming, the writer of the James Bond spy series. (And it was Neill’s turn to play it cool when Paul McCartney casually stopped by the kitchen during the party to watch him make pancakes.)

But the glamour didn’t last long. In 2010 they were married, and in 2011 Annabelle made them a family of three. By then, Emily had gone back to her graphic-design roots, doing freelance advertising and design work for the likes of Vogue and Crunch Fitness.

With a baby in tow, trying to get by in New York City was wearing on them, so they uprooted and bought a house in Rogers Forge near Emily’s family. Neill became the chef at Bond Street Social in Fells Point and Emily continued to do freelance work.

“IT’S SCARY BEING HERE FOR 11 YEARS,” SAYS EMILY. “WE DON’T WANT TO BECOME IRRELEVANT OR THE ‘OLD PLACE.’”

By 2013, the couple were at a crossroads with their careers. Neill was looking for an end to working the long hours of dinner service. Emily had grown tired of the freelance life. “I don’t know exactly how it came about but I was like, ‘I don’t want to work late hours anymore, I have a family and some things have to change in my life,’” says Neill, who found sobriety that same year after years of hard partying.

They soon started joking about owning their own business, and one thing led to the next when the couple found themselves in Lake Falls Village, where Emily’s sister-in- law’s mom owned the clothing boutique L’Apparenza next to what was then Banksy’s Café. Neill thought that if they did open their own spot, something like the Banksy’s location would be ideal.

Not long after, fate intervened when Bansky’s closed almost overnight and the Howells got a tip from Emily’s sister-in-law that there was a vacancy. They got in touch with the leasing agent and soon had a great little place for a cafe of their own.

When The Corner Pantry debuted in 2014, the staff was small (six, which has grown to 40) and the vision was seemingly simple. “We wanted to use fresh, nicely sourced ingredients done properly,” says Neill. “There was [almost] nothing like that in the area at the time.”

The duo was also inspired by Union Square’s celebrated (though now-closed) City Bakery in New York City, with its chopped salads and oversized chocolate-chip cookies. “I went every single day for lunch,” says Emily, “and blew my budget.”

Some of the original offerings, from the egg and cheese on an oversized biscuit to the so-called Coronation Chicken Salad (which was a dish at Queen Elizabeth’s coronation in 1953) remain on the menu to this day. And many of the cafe’s original customers are now regulars.

Interior designer Henry Johnson was there that first day during the heavy snowstorm. As he and a group of seven friends dug into plates of duck confit, and snow coated their cars, he was wowed. “At the time, I thought the very thing that I’ve been thinking non-stop ever since,” says Johnson, who eats at the cafe several times a week and sometimes even twice a day. “This is probably the best food in Baltimore.”

WHEN THE CORNER PANTRY DEBUTED IN 2014, THE STAFF WAS SMALL AND THE VISION WAS SEEMINGLY SIMPLE.

Of course, Neill and Emily are quick to point out that it’s all about their talented team. Neill recently hired a former Magdalena chef, Angel Sisounong, as executive sous chef. There’s also MICA grad Lisa Hillring overseeing the pastry program in the sparkling new show kitchen, where patrons can watch from an observation window as Hillring makes cream-cheese frosting for gorgeous coils of cinnamon buns and paints egg wash on apple-cinnamon pop-tarts, part of a rotating series of flavors.

“I appreciate that Emily and Neill are always supportive of us being really creative and coming up with new and cool things all the time,” gushes Hillring. “That’s definitely not true everywhere.”

As they enter their second decade of cafe ownership, the business continues to evolve. The recent renovation, with its large to-go case of prepared foods like chicken tikka and deviled eggs, gave them the chance to get back to their original idea of being a place where patrons can order from an all-day menu (turkey sandwiches at 9 a.m. or eggs at lunchtime) or get grab-and-go.

“It is now what it was going to be when we first opened,” says Emily. “It has developed into what our original vision was, of having a corner pantry where you could sit down and eat—or get things to take home with you.”

The construction dust has finally settled, but that hasn’t kept Emily from dreaming up new business ideas or Neill from striving in the kitchen.

“Never having worked in a Michelin-starred restaurant will always be one of my regrets,” he says, “so I want to try my best to use the techniques they use in those place —it’s all about attention to detail. I’ve never been successful at anything in my life, so to now own a business that’s thriving is so incredibly gratifying.”

Emily likens the business to raising a family. “It’s kind of like having children,” she says. “The days are long but the years go fast. It seems so hard in the moment, but my God, having these humans who turned out the way you hoped they would is just amazing.”

While some restaurants have remained closed or have limited carryout business, The Corner Pantry co-owners Emily and Neill Howell say they’ve been working more hours than ever between catering, a new online ordering system that has increased carryout traffic at the cafe, and a large construction project that started pre-COVID-19 and will double the size of their space in Lake Falls Village. The restaurant is currently closed to wrap up the the expansion, but is set to reopen along with the new space in the coming days.

The Howells are also parents to Annabelle, 9, and Clive, 6, both of whom are home for the remainder of the school year. “Everyone is talking about how clean their house is,” says Emily, “but we’ve been working more than we worked before this happened.”

How have you adjusted to this new restaurant reality?
Emily Howell: I was sort of like, ‘Until someone says something, I didn’t believe it.’ But when it happened, we just pushed our tables up against the wall. We’ve slowly made amendments to keep it more and more safe. We do one customer inside at a time. Our new online ordering has really helped. Before that, people were just ordering by phone and someone had to be on the phone all the time. We’ve been able to bring in more revenue now because before people just couldn’t get through. Toast, our new online ordering system, has helped a ton and we’ve been able to bring in more revenue.

“If I’m being honest, the first few weeks I was struggling a bit because we buy all these amazing products from local farms and I was having to put them in a cardboard box. I got over that and decided we are going to try to put out the best food we can.” —Neill Howell

What was your thinking when Governor Hogan closed restaurants and bars for dining in?
EH: When everything happened, we took it day by day. One of the things we did was lunches for the Josie King Foundation. [The foundation’s founder] Sorrel King is one of our oldest customers. She called one day about having us do 50 hospital lunches and we ended up doing over 5,000 in six weeks.

Neill Howell: We were set up for carryout and to-go from the beginning. Now we are spending our days putting things in brown boxes. As a chef it’s not the best thing, but we’ve lost a lot in catering—thousands and thousands of dollars that we are not going to get back. It has been stressful, but from day one, we never had the mindset to close the shop—even if was just me and Emily in there. We would have just kept going because we are workers, and we want to keep our business up and keep our name out there. Our clientele is committed to us, so they’ve been coming in each day for the family meals we’ve been doing, from chicken tikkas to lasagnas. Online ordering is going really well. We’re busy, but we’re nowhere near where we were before—we are 50 percent down, but many places are worse off. Some places haven’t even re-opened and I just feel for them.

“I saw one of those memes that said, ‘I now realize that my hobbies are bars, restaurants, and small businesses.’ Neill and I, all we do for fun is eat.” —Emily Howell

How are you staying inspired?
NH: If I’m being honest, the first few weeks I was struggling a bit because we buy all these amazing products from local farms and I was having to put them in a cardboard box. I got over that and decided we are going to try to put out the best food we can. If someone is down in the dumps, this brightens up their day. We’ve had a really good connection with our farmers. We buy lots and of stuff from them and their passion has brought us back to, ‘Okay, this is cool.’ We both want to just keep banging out good food. You can either give up or try your hardest, we are trying our hardest.

What will change as a result of the way you’ve done business during the pandemic?
EH: We are trying to make a takeout-style window. We created a second counter anyway but having a takeout window that people can walk up to from the outside was a last-minute pivot—hopefully the landlord approves it. That will keep everyone who is waiting for pickup outside. All of the changes we were making were to utilize the space better, so it’s all just coming together.

One thing that we haven’t totally figured out is our cold salad bar. That might just go to pre-packed, or we might close it up and have people serve it to the customer. Regardless, it will be fine. Every single person has had to adjust to a new way. When this all ends, people will just be happy to be out.

NH: Everyone is so impressed when they come to our place because we work out of a really small kitchen. We just make it work. It’s tough, but [with the expansion] we are about to have more kitchen space and a nice, big butcher’s block to do butchery in-house, which we’ve already been doing but it has been tough. We have a new wood pasta table. The plan is to do what we’ve been doing slowly from day one—making good home cooked food using local ingredients.

I’m going to take these next couple of weeks and really connect with the farmers again. I’m looking forward to having tomatoes when we get back. And strawberries and rhubarb are coming in soon, so I can’t wait to start work with all that nice spring and summer product. I’m most excited to see the faces of our staff when they see the new space and the equipment they can use. This is isn’t about me and Emily—it’s about our staff and, obviously, I’m excited for our customers to see it.

“The plan is to do what we’ve been doing slowly from day one—making good home cooked food using local ingredients.” —Neill Howell

What will the new space look like?
EH: We used shiplap in white, so it still has that modern feel, but we’ve added in some natural colors. In our new space, we extended the counter to the window. We will have two registers. We are putting a half wall up from the counter so that kind of separates the dining room from where you would wait in line. We have some banquettes and we’re bringing in some new fabric choices and new light fixtures. It’s going to feel a little less industrial and a little bit more English farm.

What do you think the restaurant scene will look like when the pandemic is over?
NH: I personally think that when they do open back up, people will be a little bit hesitant at first. I’m sure that there will be some new systems in place, but if you make it through, I think you’ll come out the other side and you will be fine—you might even be busier than you were before

EH: We are lucky that we are in warm weather months—it gives those with outdoor dining the ability to spread out. In normal times, when summer hits, our dining room is really quiet, and everyone is outside. But I think it’s going to be hard. Luckily for us, we have that carryout model anyway. For strictly fine dining this has to be really, really hard.

Why do restaurants matter?
EH: I saw one of those memes that said, ‘I now realize that my hobbies are bars, restaurants, and small businesses.’ Neill and I, all we do for fun is eat. If we go out, it’s what we are going to do—eat and drink.

NH: It’s pretty simple. Good food makes people happy.

To say that Rob Frisch and Dave Lichty have spent over half of their lives at the Mt. Washington Tavern together would not be hyperbole.

Frisch joined the staff as a bartender in 1986. He was 26 at the time. One week later, a then 19-year-old Lichty was hired to work as Frisch’s barback.

“I remember the first day because I’d never worked in the restaurant business before,” says Lichty, “and just wandering around behind-the-scenes in a restaurant was different than being out in the front. I was never a barfly when I was younger—I didn’t have a fake ID like the other kids.”

From those early days on, their paths paralleled. Both transitioned to cooking then management; both married Tavern employees; both pick the Tavern Steak as their favorite menu item; both choose to hang out with one another on their days off.

“All of the sudden, the years clicked by,” Frisch says wistfully.

One could say that the men have grown up with the Tavern, which turns 40 on November 17, while Frisch and Lichty turn 59 and 53, respectively. They have spent the past 11 years as owners, after original owner Ted Bauer (who now operates Oregon Grille and The Valley Inn) sold it to them.

“Ted approached me and said, ‘I’m thinking about pulling back my work load.’ And he asked if would I be interested in buying it,” recalls Frisch. “And I said, ‘Absolutely.’ But the place was too much for me on my own, so I called Dave. I said, ‘Dave, there’s something I want to talk to you about, and when I asked him, he said, ‘Shit, yeah.’”

Chimes in Lichty, “There was no thought at all. It was 100 percent, ‘Yes.’”

On a late summer’s day, wearing baseball caps and Bermuda shorts and sitting on the scenic deck of the Tavern’s Sky Bar, Frisch and Lichty have an easy camaraderie and seem more like best friends—which they are—than business partners. They finish each other’s sentences, laugh at each other’s jokes, and consider each other family.

When Frisch became a grandfather for the first time on Thanksgiving Day last year, Lichty was hoping to be first on the scene, but the baby arrived after he had tucked in for the night. “My wife Cathy and I made it there early the next day,” he says. “People tell us that most co-owners don’t get along like we do. I know I push Rob’s buttons sometimes, but you can’t hold a grudge in this business.”

They also spend plenty of time at the bar drinking with customers, many of whom they know by name. “Let’s just say that we like to stand at the bar and imbibe cocktails with customers,” says Frisch with a grin.

They also enjoy reminiscing about the good old days when the Tavern first became a haven for sports teams, Preakness partiers, and the occasional celebrity.

“Clint Eastwood was here,” recalls Frisch. “He was filming Absolute Power, and came every night for oysters. He sat out back one Sunday night and Cathy was bartending out there with just Steven Spielberg and Eastwood. It was pouring rain so the deck was closed. Nicolas Cage was also here when he was shooting Guarding Tess and Danny DeVito and Rhea Perlman ate in The Chesapeake Room.”

There was also the time a visit from the Milwaukee Brewers caused a serious stir. “Girls were leaving their boyfriends because there were a bunch of baseball players upstairs and one guy didn’t want to hear it,” says Frisch. “[One of the players] actually went on the disabled list because when he was running after someone at the old raw bar, his wrist got caught on the handrail and he wrenched his wrist and had to go on the disabled list.” Adds Lichty laughing, “That didn’t make the newspaper.”

Sadly, some of the memories are bittersweet, including the Tavern’s devastating two-alarm fire in 2011, which left millions of dollars in damages. From the outset, there was no question that they were going to rebuild.

“The contractor was Jim Macko,” says Lichty. “He lived right up the hill. After the fire, it was just getting light out and my mother was across the bridge. We were standing there, and I had tears in my eyes. I looked at him and said, ‘Jim, can you rebuild it?’ And he said, ‘Yes.’ We shook hands and that was pretty much it.”

With their trademark humor and sense of joie de vivre, both men did what they’ve done to survive in the restaurant business—made lemons out of lemonade. “A lot of people were wishing us well and someone had the excellent idea of getting a cooler with ice, cocktails, and fried chicken,” recalls Frisch. “It was a Monday morning, so everything in the village was closed. Mustapha, who owns the creperie [Le Bistro Du Village] across the street had the keys to DK Salon in the village and we sat at DK, ate fried chicken, and poured cocktails.”

When the new Tavern reopened a year later, the duo threw a party for friends and family on the first night in the renovated space. “People were calling our GM and saying, ‘I’m friends with Rob and Dave, why weren’t we invited?’” says Frisch. Laughs Lichty: “The GM told them, ‘It was only 500 of their best friends.’”

These days the Tavern is not only back—it’s better than ever. Although the fire was heartbreaking, it also allowed the men to give the iconic spot a much-needed modern update.

As visitors come through the new side entrance of the landmark space, a burnt floor joist is now part of a sign that welcomes patrons into the building, and a valuable wooden decoy that somehow survived the blaze sits under a glass case. Both relics are a reminder of what it means to rise from the ashes.

Now that the Tavern has been given new life, Lichty and Frisch have been able to enjoy second, third, and even fourth generations of customers—and every baby who comes through the door is given a branded bib.

“This place is a like a security blanket,” says Lichty. “People come because they know that they’re going to be comfortable.”

There’s always a beautiful moment at Woodrow’s Bar-B-Que—maybe as you’re effortlessly peeling a tender piece of char-encrusted meat from a giant rib bone or savoring a slice of moist brisket that melts in your mouth—when you think to yourself: It just can’t get any better than this. In the South and many other parts of the country, the meat would likely come from a pig—“hog heaven,” as it were—but at this small, general-store-looking Mt. Washington establishment, we’re talking about Texas style barbecue, which means predominantly beef, not pork. And not just any beef—gloriously authentic, deliciously dry- rubbed, wood-fired, and smoked-for-more-hours-than-you-sleep beef.

That juicy brisket, those “is this meat even connected to the bone?” ribs, and even the delicious sides of mac-n-cheese, potato salad, French fries, and more come from the imagination of owner Matthew Piron, a 1993 Loyola University graduate who opened the place in 2017, inspired by his wife’s San Antonio roots and his own disillusionment with corporate life after he was laid off from his sales job of 15 years. Is it wrong to say we’re thankful for whomever made that staffing decision? Unemployment lit a classic American entrepreneurial spark in Piron that ultimately ignited the red smoker in Woodrow’s tiny commercial kitchen, which cooks 75 pounds of savory hormone-and antibiotic-free prime black angus brisket and ribs, not to mention pork butts, sausage, and turkey, too.

If you’re a fan of barbecue, and perhaps even if you’re not, you will not leave Woodrow’s disappointed—or hungry. The protein is prepared with a Kosher salt-and-peppered rub, no sauce, and cooked over a white oak fire, making this the only restaurant in the city to follow the mid-Texas tradition. Indeed, while enjoying dinner, my wife and I overheard a couple tell the cashier that they recently moved from McKinney, Texas (which is just north of Dallas) and on this night felt they finally found real barbecue. After their meal, they paid for a pound-and-a-half of beef ribs to go.

Be warned, the physical space of this gem is relatively small; there’s the front door, the counter, the menu on a chalkboard wall, plus 14 seats inside and few out front, but finding an open table on our recent visits was no problem. The atmosphere is comfortable and laid-back, and the service is fast and friendly. Until March, the drinks policy was BYOB, but that’s recently changed with a liquor license in hand. And we’re guessing the food is just as good at home, as most of Woodrow’s business is carry-out.

Interestingly, the man behind the meat candy—a term that can be applied literally and figuratively (it’s pitmaster slang for the crispy, fatty bits from a brisket’s flavorful outer bark)—is from New Jersey. He taught himself the barbecue craft, with a lot of trial and error, plus a little R&D from BBQ hotbeds across the country. “It’s got to be perfect,” Piron says, “or I won’t do it.” After one bite of his goods, there’s no denying the results.

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›› Woodrow’s Bar-B-Que
1607 Sulgrave Ave., 667-212-4436. Tues.-Sat. 11 a.m.-9 p.m.: Sun. 11 a.m.-7 p.m.

This is the story of how a small group of people came together to save a cultural institution: Baltimore Clayworks.

On October 10, the Global Day of Clay, a large, cross-generational network of Clayworks students, teachers, resident artists, board, volunteers, and friends, as well as state delegates, gather on the lawn outside Clayworks’ galleries and office building to celebrate one year of their reopening. The crowd fills the foldout chairs on the grass, and others stand to watch as a new executive director, Cyndi Wish, is installed, and an honorary street sign marking this stretch of Smith Avenue as Clayworks Way is unveiled, to much fanfare and cheers.

They have good reason to celebrate.

In early 2017, Clayworks was on the verge of what many thought could be the end of its 37-year existence. The board running the nonprofit at the time had plans to sell Clayworks’ two large buildings in Mt. Washington, pay off its debt, and find a space to rent in downtown Baltimore. When the Clayworks community—students, donors, artists, a thinning staff, and even leaders of clay centers in other parts of the country—learned of this, they banded together to raise funds to pay off the debt.

“People were blindsided. We were in shock,” said Susan Patz, the new board president at Clayworks. Without any power to decide Clayworks’ fate, which was in the hands of the former board, the community didn’t know if or how the organization could be rescued.

Former students, staff, and teachers came together to create the Save Baltimore Clayworks campaign. They made a website. They petitioned. Eventually, they went to the state capitol.

“It became a rather public battle,” Patz said.

A turning point came in June 2017, when Baltimore City Councilman Isaac “Yitzy” Schleifer sponsored a resolution with other council members—which passed unanimously—to stop the sale of the Clayworks buildings. In mid-July, a potential buyer purchased a different building, and the former board closed Clayworks’ doors, unannounced, and proceeded to begin to file for bankruptcy. The classrooms, studios, rooms of loaded kilns, and exhibit spaces all went dark. Artists, summer campers, students, and staff were locked out.

Those trying to save the nonprofit pressed on—at times working 60-hour weeks.

From July through September, the Agreement for the Continuation of Baltimore Clayworks was negotiated and eventually signed by the former board and the Clayworks Community Campaign. An entirely new board was installed when Clayworks reopened on October 1.

During the first couple weeks, some 70 volunteers worked around the clock to clean and paint every wall of the two buildings and prepare the kilns, wheels, and glaze rooms for artists and students to return. “So many people came back to help,” said Patz. “The board, volunteers and staff were indistinguishable.”

Artists were welcomed back and exhibitions installed. Classes started November 1.

Founding member and director until 2011 Deborah Bedwell calls Clayworks a “church for clay artists. It’s a sacred space.” She and eight other ceramic artists started Clayworks as a small collective in 1980 in the old brick schoolhouse building in Mt. Washington (which would later see an addition and remodeling of that building and also the acquisition of a second building across the street). She was among the group who returned to help rebuild the legacy institution.

John K. Smith, who served as board chairman for more than a decade, came back, too. “I was just shocked to hear it was in trouble. This was just an amazing group of volunteers. These women—they saved this,” he said, and begins listing the names of those on the steering committee of the Campaign to Save Baltimore Clayworks: Marsha Smelkinson, Patz, Bedwell, Pat Halle, Ronni Aronin, and Rima Semaan. “Old staff came back and taught for free. It’s just a great group of people who do wonderful things.”

By the end of 2017, the new leadership managed to pay more than $350,000 in previous debt, see record class enrollments, and earn a positive net of about $150,000. Classes were filled throughout 2018, too. The galleries saw multiple exhibitions, 200 kids participated in summer camp, and a new group of emerging artists were selected to be residents artists with studios onsite. Programming will continue to expand in 2019, as the organization builds upon its signature classes, with finding from new grants from Baltimore City and the Bloomberg Philanthropies.

And so, on October 10, the community celebrated.

“I hope we’ll continue to gather here and celebrate,” Patz tells the crowd, before they dispersed and mingled, wandering around the buildings to see exhibits and artist studios and hear live music. Outside, a group of people noticed it has started to drizzle—and then, to their wonderment, they noticed a double rainbow, framing Mt. Washington’s sky. One by one, kids and adults pointed, marveling, saying, “This is a sign!” and “This is our good omen!”

“We believed we were right, and we just persisted,” Patz said succinctly, after sharing her story. “The community had a mission. They knew the value of this organization. I know the value. Its mission resonates with so many people.”

If life was like a horse race, you could place a winning bet on where to find Belinda Stronach on the third Saturday in May: right in the middle of the spectacle that is Preakness Day at Pimlico Race Course. Inside a carefully designed two-story, glass-walled “chalet” erected on the track’s grass infield, Stronach will entertain local celebrities, politicians, and other guests in a glamorous Old English-style building whose décor she describes as “Ralph Lauren meets SoHo House.” The 52-year-old blonde’s designer attire will match appropriately.

Outside, college kids will party for hours (“It’s kind of legendary,” she says of the madness), listening this year to the music of Post Malone and Odesza. And, finally, after 6 p.m., in the 13th race of the day, a dozen or so thoroughbreds will sprint around the one-mile dirt oval. More than a hundred-thousand fans of all ages will scream, as . . . down the stretch they come . . . the second leg of the Triple Crown, and $1.5 million in prize money, is up for the taking in the iconic horse race’s 143rd running.

You may have never heard her name until today, but Stronach has been known simply as Belinda in headlines in her native Canada throughout her well-documented public life. She is a lifelong businesswoman with model-like looks, a former lightning-rod member of Canadian parliament, a breast cancer survivor, a twice divorced mother of two, and the heiress to her father’s self-made billion-dollar fortune. She is chairman and president of the Stronach Group, one of the world’s largest thoroughbred racing companies, which owns Pimlico, the historic-yet-dilapidated 148-year-old venue that hosts one of America’s most iconic sporting events, as well as the newer racetrack in Laurel, and four other premier tracks across the country.

That position makes her one of the most influential figures at the center of what will continue to be one of Baltimore’s hot-button issues in the months and years ahead. No, it doesn’t rise to the level of school funding, safety, or public infrastructure, but the question does pertain to one of the area’s beloved and well-known annual traditions, held nearly every spring since 1873 on the same plot of land in Park Heights: Will the Preakness stay at Pimlico? The question echoes in the minds of the city and state stakeholders inside the chalet tent, and it’s a question that Stronach, who is bent on modernizing one of the country’s most overlooked legacy sports, often asks herself. “We want to bring great events to Maryland,” she says. “The question is what is the appropriate stadium and venue for that?”  

The road to an answer is long and complicated. The second phase of a Maryland Stadium Authority analysis of the ideal Preakness venue is expected to be completed by the end of this year; the first phase estimated that Pimlico would need around $300 million in renovations. Maryland law states the Preakness can be moved “only as a result of a disaster or emergency,” but legislative acts with the right support could change policy, of course. In the meantime, Stronach’s perspective plays an important part in the story.

“It’s my responsibility first to look at it as a business,” she says. It’s an approach she first learned about when she dropped out of college after one year to take a position in her father’s auto-parts manufacturing empire, Magna International. By the age of 32, she was the organization’s executive vice president of human resources. Three years later, Magna’s board of directors recommended to her father that she take over as CEO of the $10.5 billion company with 62,000 staff members and offices and factories in 18 countries. Stronach then became Magna’s president in 2002.

Along the way, she piloted the spinoff of an entertainment division that eventually became the Stronach Group. And she encountered the realities of being a woman, and family successor, no less, in a male-dominated business world. “Who is this lovely lady?” an executive at Ford Motor Company asked a Magna junior executive at the start of a key meeting in Detroit in 2001, where Stronach was “dressed to kill,” as Canadian political journalist Don Martin wrote in his 2006 biography of Stronach, Belinda. She interrupted and introduced her colleague as her subordinate. “That’s why I never attend a meeting carrying a purse,” she said at the time.

From a personal standpoint, Stronach supports the #MeToo movement: “It’s messy, it’s imperfect, but the level of awareness that has now arisen as a result of very inappropriate behavior, specifically in the workplace, is a good thing,” she says. “Everybody has the right to come to work and do their job with dignity.”

Her father, Frank, an Austrian immigrant, instilled the value of pride in her. He built his company from mere pennies to a net worth estimated at $1.5 billion. Frank has a legendary passion for the horse business, owning tracks and animals that have won big races, (his Red Bullet took the 2000 Preakness). At 85, he still owns and operates a successful breeding farm, Adena Springs.

But while his daughter shared her father’s passion and penchant for business, she was indifferent to the track. In elementary school, “I wanted to do other things with my friends,” Stronach says. “But I had a couple of girlfriends who also went to the track, whose fathers were trainers, and we’d hang out and eat really crappy food, hot dogs and Coke, or something like that. I didn’t really like the experience very much. It kind of turned me off.”

What’s more, one of Stronach’s first memories of life was falling off a tractor and breaking her collarbone on the family’s farm in Aurora, Ontario, an opulent compound with an entrance adorned by wrought-iron gates and stone pillars topped with horse heads. In one of three houses on the property, Stronach eventually raised her two children, Frank Jr., who is now 26 and a music producer, and Nikki, 24, an accomplished equestrian, after divorcing their father, Magna executive Donald Walker, in 1995.

Stronach was married again for three years to Norwegian Olympic speedskater Johann Olav Koss before she exited the C-suite of Magna and made what was a surprising entry into the Canadian political scene. In 2003, she spent $2.5 million to run for the leadership of Canada’s new Conservative Party, came in second, and instead won a House of Commons seat in parliament representing her home district.

A year later, alienated by a limited role in the party, she shocked the country (think round-the-clock national TV coverage), and her then-boyfriend, Conservative deputy leader Peter MacKay, by defecting to become a Liberal cabinet minister. Voters reelected her in 2006, but a year later, she left politics for good after being diagnosed with breast cancer.

Many felt her departure was for the best. “The entire time she was here, she wasn’t in her natural habitat,” says award-winning Canadian political journalist Susan Delacourt, who broke the news of Stronach’s cancer diagnosis in 2007. She was also once rumored to be romantically linked to former U.S. President Bill Clinton, and had a relationship with former Toronto Maple Leafs hockey player Tie Domi.

But the fact is, for all the public attention, she’s a very private person. When she discussed her cancer treatment with the Canadian Press in 2009, talking about her decision to opt for a mastectomy and a right breast reconstruction, it was only to raise awareness and money for the University of Toronto’s cancer center.
This is all to say Stronach isn’t afraid to take an unorthodox approach.

“The word gets used a lot, but she’s a disrupter,” says her former spokesperson Greg MacEachern. “She will buck tradition when she thinks it’s time to shake things up a little bit. And if Belinda makes up her mind to do something, good luck trying to dissuade her.” Not long ago, a belief in horse-racing circles went that on the day Frank Stronach passes away, his daughter will sell the tracks, pack up what’s largely considered a dying business, and find something else to do almost immediately. But, despite her initial misgivings about the sport, that’s not the impression she gives off.

“I feel like all I’m doing 24/7 is horse racing,” Stronach says. The work is clearly a priority, but exhausting. “I just want to sleep in.” Indeed, she could use it, considering her typical schedule includes an early-morning workout routine, and she has gained a reputation for partying late into the night. Now, when she’s not working on business projects, Stronach, who still lives in Aurora, often dines and spends time with her children—and their friends—in nearby Toronto or out of town spots such as Wellington, Florida, where Nikki spent the winter riding and competing. “Basically, I’m sandwiched between a bunch of horse enthusiasts,” Stronach says. “I just go and have fun with them.”

She’s also just as likely to be found at home, watching an episode of The Crown on Netflix—she was particularly tickled when Queen Elizabeth (played by Claire Foy) discused her horse running in a race at Laurel. “That was kind of cool,” Stronach says. The track hosted the famed D.C. International from 1952-1994, and the Stronach Group is looking to revive the event.

Two months before Preakness, Stronach is talking about all the new plans her team have in place for this year’s event at Pimlico. One is a centralized stage for the music, as part of a redesigned infield intended to better blend the party with the corporate village. She’s worked on the details with I.M.P., which has been programming Preakness’ music since 2009.

Then there’s that new, larger Stronach Group chalet—where last year Gov. Larry Hogan, rapper 50 Cent, and a handful of Ravens players stopped by—and other double-decker suites, part of a bigger idea to create more space in the infield for people to watch the races instead of just enjoying the beer, wine, and non-equine entertainment. “You don’t have to do one or the other,” Stronach says. “That’s where the magic is.”

“This sport hasn’t innovated to the degree it needs to,” Stronach says. “It’s really the last great sporting legacy platform that has not yet modernized. That’s what we’re doing.”

And that strategy includes evaluating the facilities where the races are run. As far back as the 1950s, there have been discussions about moving Preakness to what was then a newly renovated Laurel Park. A 1958 bill to do it failed in Maryland’s general assembly by just one vote. Pimlico was 88 years old. It’s nearing double that now, and looks it. Stronach Group COO Tim Ritvo says the company has put $20 million into the facility in the past three years, spending some of that to replace old box TVs, demolish walls to provide greater visibility to the track,  and improve electrical and plumbing infrastructure. The goal is to create the type of facility that could generate Kentucky Derby-like revenue from premium seating, says Sal Sinatra, president and GM of the Maryland Jockey Club, which is controlled by the Stronach Group. In 2016, Sinai Hospital’s acquisition of part of Pimlico’s parking lot from the Jockey Club fueled speculation about the site’s future.

“I don’t think anyone wants it to disappear,” says Sinatra, who toured Pimlico’s grounds earlier this year with city officials, including Mayor Catherine Pugh, who has said she’s committed to keeping the Preakness at its historic location. “There is tradition and everything else. We all feel that way when we go up there. “I’m sure people will kick and scream either way, but at the end of the day, Baltimore is going to see a giant hole if it goes away . . . Can we use the infield for other things? Can we do music things? Can schools or someone else use the infield for ball games? It has to have life.”

At the same time, the Stronach Group is positioning its Laurel site, a 30-minute drive south with direct MARC train access and better parking, as a place that can host premier events. Laurel was purchased in 2002, and the Stronach Group has put $30 million into the facility in the past two years, renovating the grandstand and expanding the barn space because “eventually that will be where the horses will stable year-round,” Ritvo says. The track already runs races 150 days out of the year.

In her ideal world, Stronach says one “supertrack” would exist for the region. But she remains open-minded about the possibility of operating two facilities via public-private partnerships pending the analysis results. That study has already been delayed a year and alone carries a more than $420,000 price tag.

“For us, if we’re going to make the investment, it’d be better to have one track that caters to everyone,” Stronach says. “Having said that, we totally respect the tradition of the Preakness at Pimlico. It’s a complicated question. We don’t know how this will unfold, but we’re going to do what’s best for the sport and the fans.”

For now, the horses will once again run at Pimlico this Preakness Saturday. The swirl of humanity and pageantry in the nearly 150-year-old facility will be a sight to behold. And Stronach—the Canadian import running things from the top—will be at the center of it all, thinking about how the Sport of Kings can make it in modern America, even if that means bucking tradition to do so.

Correction: May 1, 2018: An earlier version of this article stated that Preakness was held in Park Heights every year since 1873. However, from 1890-1908, the Preakness was in New York and there were no races for three years from 1891-1893. Baltimore regrets the error.

After nearly 40 years, Baltimore Clayworks is forced to close its doors. The Mt. Washington ceramic arts studio and gallery released a statement on Monday announcing the closure citing “the loss of sale” and lack of funding created a “delicate situation” for the nonprofit despite the fundraising efforts of the arts community to save it.

The organization was forced to file Chapter 7 bankruptcy due to unpaid debts. According to board of directors president Kathy Holt, $200,000 would have prevented them from filing and allowed the doors to remain open. The initial plan was to sell the properties and relocate, but opposition from people who believed that Clayworks should remain in Mt. Washington caused delays and uncertainty forcing the buyer to withdraw and shattering any hopes for the nonprofit to continue.

“The ‘Community Campaign’s’ accrued funds came with a variety of restrictions in order to be disbursed,” Holt said in a statement. “While the administration of that group worked hard to release some of that now, and potentially later, it was not enough, nor in enough time, to stave off bankruptcy.”   

Baltimore Clayworks is the only nonprofit in the state solely dedicated to ceramic arts, providing career opportunities and community programming. Since its inception in 1980 and its expansion in 1999, its mission has remained the same: create a place for ceramic artists to develop and sustain their craft, and provide educational programs for the public.

“The problem with clay is that it tends to be addictive,” co-founder Deborah Bedwell told Baltimore in 2010 when she also admitted there was “financial fragility” within the organization. “You have both an emotional and a sensory experience . . . You touch it and you’ve made your mark on it immediately.”

For more than 20 years, the Community Arts program of Baltimore Clayworks has been collaborating with cultural grassroots organizations and schools to provide access to arts programming for underserved communities in the city. The program is committed to providing everyone—children, adults, and seniors—with a positive experience in ceramics. But with the doors of the main campus closing, the future of the programming is unclear.

“The board deeply regrets the outcome for artists, students, and kids who were to attend summer camps,” said Holt. “We are also hopeful we can find a new ‘home’ for the Community Arts program, and are actively engaging with possible organizations that could administrate it.”

Although Mt. Washington is not quite an official Maryland Arts & Entertainment District, Baltimore Clayworks provided a space in the historic neighborhood for artists to create and explore. The Studio building—formally an Enoch Pratt Free Library branch—offered hands-on classes in pottery and sculpting for patrons of all ages as well as exhibitions that showcased national, international, and local artists.  

“We understand the impact this will have on the larger arts community,” Holt said. “It is exceedingly painful to those that Clayworks has served. We are all grief-stricken with the result.”

Do you have a favorite item in the store?
AB: I’m wearing my favorite item. It’s this necklace, just one gold and one silver rectangle.

What is the most embarrassing trend you used to love?
AB: Probably pants where you would wear them really, really baggy and have your boxers sticking out. The pants were huge and they were practically falling down. I did that.

What is your guilty pleasure?
AB: I like to watch movies over and over again, like Harry Potter or Aliens. I’ll put one in and crochet or sit with my cat.

How did you get the name for your boutique?
AB: Elsie Fergusson is the “Else” in Something Else.

What is your go-to saying or motto?
AB: I have go-to movies, go-to clothing, go-to jewelry, but as far as a saying, I think everything I say is X-rated. Most of my go-to things are completely unquotable.

What is no outfit complete without?
AB: Jewelry can really make an outfit. If you have a whole black outfit and you have a great piece of jewelry on, everyone will keep saying, ‘Oh my gosh, you look so great!’

What are your favorite and least favorite trends?
AB: One of the things I like is that plus-sized models are out there. I’m really excited about that. When I found out there were plus-sized bloggers and models, I was like, “Maybe there’s hope.” What I really hate is when women wear leggings as pants. They’re an accessory.

Our top picks:
Black and white graphic coat ($65); Metallic-flecked sweater dress ($42); Wooden clutch with marble bauble ($36)

Despite Hailing from a long line of educators and even entering the profession himself as a third-grade teacher, Ryan Kaiser wasn’t sure teaching was for him. That is, until he came to Baltimore from his native Nebraska 10 years ago.

Eager to get to know his new hometown, Kaiser began taking his fifth-grade pupils on field trips, integrating lessons with first-person exploration. The results were profound. “The more we were out of the classroom, the better they were doing in the classroom,” he says.

Recently, Kaiser—who turns 41 this month and now teaches sixth- and eighth-grade social studies at The Mount Washington School—was named the Maryland Teacher of the Year. He will spend the next year traveling statewide talking about education and his teaching methods, which, he says, can be summed up in the Chinese proverb, “I forget what I hear, I remember what I read, and I understand what I do.”

In addition to taking his students on excursions that range from kayaking on the Patapsco River to visiting the White House, Kaiser coaches his school’s debate team and writes the middle-school honors curriculum for the city’s schools, which he thinks don’t get enough credit. “Our students learn—and love to learn—just like any student in any [other] district.” he says.

As a neighborhood eatery, Pepe’s Pizza on Falls Road is hard to beat. It’s been around seemingly forever (actually since 1979). It’s family-run. (Andy Makris took over after the murder of his father, Peter, in 2000.) And its vast menu offers pretty much everything you could ever want at a deli/diner/family restaurant. (Pizza? Check. Gyros? Check. Burgers, Maryland crab soup, and salads? Check, check, and check.) It’s no wonder that North Baltimore families have depended on Pepe’s dine-in and carryout options for decades.

So it was with great interest that we watched Pepe’s recent $1.5-million renovation, including an expansion that doubled its size. We wondered: Would the new Pepe’s retain its humble charm? (We hoped so.) And would the spiffed-up digs prompt a similarly spiffed-up menu? (We hoped not.)

With its new seating area, flat-screen TVs, and earth tones, the updated dining room is a comfortable, if slightly generic, spot for noshing, but the constant bustle of families and kids (with a heavy representation from area private schools) keeps the vibe feeling cheerful and homey.

Except for a few additions (Makris decided to add fried chicken at the request of the construction crews), the menu is largely unchanged. The signature subs boast fillings ranging from Italian meatballs to jumbo fried shrimp and remain satisfying. On a rainy, late-fall night, we opted for the 16-inch eggplant parmigiana and chicken parmigiana subs (both $14.50) and found ourselves rewarded with toasted-bread torpedoes filled with gooey mozzarella, tangy tomato sauce, and thick layers of breaded eggplant and chicken cutlets.

On another occasion, we tried a lamb gyro ($6.50 sandwich, $9.50 platter) stuffed with thin slices of tender meat; lettuce, tomatoes, and onions; and a slightly over-generous dollop of tzatziki sauce. An accompanying Greek salad ($6.95-10.95) leaned a little too heavily on the feta, but the curly fries ($3.95) were golden coils of perfection.

Pepe’s is also open for breakfast, and regulars swear by its platters of eggs, scrapple, sausage, French toast, and breakfast sandwiches.

Whether starting or ending your day at Pepe’s, it’s likely you’ll find exactly what you want. We couldn’t be happier that at Pepe’s, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

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›› Pepe’s Pizza: 6081 Falls Rd., 410-377-3287. Hours: Mon.-Thurs. and Sat. 5:30 a.m.-11 p.m., Fri. 5:30 a.m.-12 a.m., Sun. 5:30 a.m.-10 p.m. Breakfast: 85¢-$10.50; pizza: $9.95 and up; entrees $2.50-23.95; sides: $2.95-4.75; desserts: $2.99-3.99.

In February, 2014, when The Corner Pantry took over the spot formerly occupied by Bansky’s Cafe, we were worried. Through the years, several cafes have not been able to make a go of it in this space, and we certainly didn’t want to see another business falling on hard times. Thankfully, it seems, there’s no cause for concern. The Corner Pantry is the dream child of husband-and-wife team Emily and Neill Howell. The British-born Neill is the former executive chef at Bond Street Social (and has a wealth of experience in the kitchens of New York, Los Angeles, and London), while Emily designed the light-filled contemporary space. It’s the perfect marriage of a casual setting with serious food.

Over breakfast, you’ll have trouble choosing from among a dizzying array of house-made baked goods, including scones (Neill uses his mother’s recipe), cheddar biscuits, and the best crumpets this side of the pond. Look for the clever interpretation of a “pop tart,” filled with a variety of rotating flavors. (Don’t miss the Nutella and roasted bananas ($3.50) version if it’s on hand.) To round out the morning menu, there’s a self-serve yogurt bar, with a choice of toppings ($10.99/pound), as well as a selection of egg sandwiches ($5.50-7) and porridge with walnuts and raisins ($3-4.50).

At lunchtime, the yogurt bar becomes a self-serve buffet reflecting the chef’s enthusiasm for the bold flavors of India, Thailand, and the Middle East. We had fun choosing between an ever-changing assortment of inspired salads and substantive fare such as an aromatic coconut cauliflower rice, a spicy noodle kimchi veggie salad, and tender lamb meatballs with buttermilk tahini ($10.99/pound). If you don’t want to do it yourself, have the kitchen make you a sarnie (a British word for sandwich). We settled on a house-made roast beef iteration slathered with horseradish cream, and piled high with English cheddar, caramelized onions, and arugula on ciabatta bread. (Two hands are required for consuming.) The house-made salt-and-vinegar chips were a nice touch, too. And if you want to really feel like you’re in the Isles? Go for the royal treatment and stop by for a spot of high tea—petit fours, finger sandwiches, scones with clotted cream, and a pot of Harney & Sons tea ($13/person)—served every afternoon from 2:30 to 4 p.m.

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The Corner Pantry, 6080 Falls Rd., 667-308-2331. Hours: 7 a.m.-7 p.m. Mon.-Fri., 8 a.m.-5 p.m. Sat. Price: baked goods: $2-3.50; sandwiches: $8-14; yogurt bar and lunch buffet: $10.99/lb.

In a purple corner building in Mt. Washington, all it takes is a few glasses of pinot to make you the next Picasso. Well, maybe not quite. But the latest social trend combines cocktails and canvases to create a fun night out. 

“Some people are petrified to see a blank canvas,” says Brooke Blumberg, cofounder of Painted Palette in Mt. Washington. “But we show you how to create the painting step by step.” 

For $35, Blumberg and business partner Becca Hauser provide students with a 16 x 20-inch canvas, paint, brushes, aprons, and craft paper, as well as a two-hour lesson on creating a piece of art—everything from landscapes to a Maryland flag. 

Painted Palette, which is BYOB, is just one of many models like this around town (others include Paint Nite and Wine and Canvas) and around the country. 

“We traveled to a studio in Denver to learn all we could before opening up,” says Hauser. Since their studio debuted in September, weekly classes have continued to sell out. “Art is something people enjoy as a stress reliever; they let the rest of the world stay outside,” Hauser says. “And, at the end of it all, you have something to show for it.”

When did you open your first store? Has the message remained the same?

I first opened the original Joshua
Tree clothing store in 2000, which was opened in Towson, MD until 2006. My
second store was in Portland, Oregon from 2007 to 2010. Yes, the message
has remained the same with the focus on eco-friendly clothing and new
technologies to better improve on the overall process from production and
material organic fibers.

Explain eco-friendly and fair trade.

Eco-friendly ultimately means how
a garment is being produced and under what conditions that garment is
being produced. Also, utilizing the least amount of harsh chemicals such as
pesticides and herbicides. Whether fair trade in Peru, sweatshop free in areas
of the planet like China, or supporting made in USA clothing whether in
Los Angeles, Virginia, and or the supporting of local companies, which produce
garments made in Baltimore.

Fair trade is about supporting and
preserving fair trade wages and artisan cooperatives, investing in natural and
organic fibers and environmentally friendly dyes, and spreading the beauty of
handmade, eco fashion for a start. Fair trade is really about being held
accountable to make choices that honor both people and the planet and
respecting culture and traditions of artisans from around the world with fair
trade practices.

What inspired you?

Back
in 1999, I was selling and sharing a line of hemp/organic cotton clothing out
of my car for a year. No one wanted to carry the line, but some of the
[local store] owners and employees wanted to buy the clothing for themselves,
which was very cool, but a little frustrating because no one wanted it for
their shops. The only way to go was to open a store of my own.

Describe who shops at your store.

Some
people come into the shop who are all about the ecological aspect of it
all, and the style is secondary. Some customers come into the shop
who are all about the style and fashion of the designs.

Has Baltimore been receptive?

Yes.
[There’s] a growing community in Baltimore who is looking for alternative
opportunities to enjoy clothing designed without the
traditional sweatshop, harsh chemical label attached to it.

What local lines do you carry?

3Clothing, which is produced in
Hampden. I also carry locally made jewelry from By the Hill designs, aromatherapy
products from AromaChi, Richard Crafton products, and Becca and Mars.

What changes do you hope to make
for the store in the future?

I
just really want to build the shop to its ultimate and optimal
experience meaning, stocked with clothing and accessory lines in
full. Sort of like an eco-clothing and accessory depot for the Baltimore
and overall Maryland community at large.