This is the perfect moment to shake off winter and get back out with friends and family. With its convenient location, Baltimore County is an ideal destination for travelers from afar or those who want to explore something new in their own town.

Life sure has had its ups and downs in recent years, but one thing has stayed the same: Baltimore County is a lively home to a wide array of activities to suit any interest. Our parks, restaurants, shops, recreational areas, and golf courses are open for everyone to safely enjoy.

In the following pages we provide you with information that is sure to inspire your next outing. Cuisine connoisseurs will appreciate a taste of all that we have to offer, from farm-fresh produce to world-class restaurants and wine from locally grown grapes.

We offer charming main streets for strolling, the perfect way to shop small. For families looking to reconnect, Baltimore County has outdoor adventure, arts, athletic, and recreational activities that will surely entice even the most reluctant in the family to put down that device and enjoy some fresh air.

It’s time to get back to play again. Whether you’re ready to pick up the game of golf, want to return to open air concerts, or are looking for a way to amp up your fitness practice (paddle pilates, anyone?), let Baltimore County welcome you with all we have to offer.

The construction of the Milton Inn dates to the mid-18th century and it began its life as a coach stop for local Quakers. It is still a haven of hospitality in Baltimore County, only now it welcomes diners with discerning palates from all around the region.

“OUR LONG-TIME CLIENTS AND OUR NEW NEIGHBORS HAVE BEEN SO ENTHUSIASTIC. ALSO IT’S NOT HALF BAD FOR A CITY BOY LIKE ME TO GET TO ENJOY THE BEAUTIFUL COUNTRYSIDE OF NORTHERN BALTIMORE COUNTY EVERYDAY. ” — TONY FOREMAN

The announcement that the Foreman-Wolf Group were going to reopen The Milton Inn— its first restaurant in the county—created a shockwave of culinary joy.

Foreman-Wolf refreshed the historic building’s interiors and kitchen, opening the restaurant in 2021 under the guidance of chef and coowner, Chris Scanga. Today, The Milton Inn offers cuisine focused on the Southwest of France showcasing fresh, seasonal ingredients from over two dozen of the mid-Atlantic’s finest farms and purveyors.

Looking to taste more of what Baltimore County offers? Try these delectable destinations:

THE TILLERY, OWINGS MILLS
Dine in on classic American fare and craft beverages or enjoy sitting outside, perhaps around the firepit.
thetilleryowingsmills.com

PERENNIAL, TOWSON
Enjoy Chef Jay Rohlfing’s innovative, seasonally-inspired menu and a “robust cocktail program,” right in the heart of Towson.
perennialtowson.com

LA FOOD MARKETA, PIKESVILLE
Chefs Chad Gauss and Johntay Bedingfield bring the same quality of its sister restaurant in the city, The Food Market, to Quarry Lake.
lafoodmarketa.com

SUNSET COVE, MIDDLE RIVER
This beach bar and restaurant with its perfect waterfront view is the place to enjoy long, warm summer days and evenings.
sunsetcovemd.com

THE HUB, CATONSVILLE
This food hall features cuisine from multiple vendors so you can sample everything from Korean street food to all things hot pot goodness. There’s even a Montessori-inspired kids play area.
thehubfoodcourt.com

BOORDY VINEYARDS, HYDES
Enjoy everything from a tour of the vineyard to food truck cuisine and farmers’ markets, all with a sip of wine from one of the county’s oldest vintners.
boordy.com

Catonsville became Baltimore County’s first state-recognized Arts and Entertainment District in 2020. The award was given by the Maryland State Arts Council, and it is easy to see why. Catonsville is home to a host of live music venues and shops—and places like Bill’s Music House and Appalachian Bluegrass Shoppe that are both shops and live music destinations. Perhaps it’s no surprise the Maryland General Assembly dubbed it, “Music City, Maryland.”

But there’s more to Catonsville than just great music, and many of its charms are best explored on foot with a leisurely stroll down Frederick Avenue. Here you will find enticing places to shop small, such as locally owned antique shops, boutiques, and artisan food markets. And whether you need a restorative jolt of caffeine or a delicious meal to recharge during your saunter, Catonsville features coffee shops and restaurants to suit all tastes.

With Catonsville leading the way, Baltimore County is sure to continue its growth as a recognized center of arts and entertainment.

Looking for more places to stroll and shop local? Be sure to visit the county’s retail hubs:

TOWSON: The county seat features small shops, boutiques, and great restaurants.

HUNT VALLEY: While the energetic town center is Hunt Valley’s heart, don’t miss the small shops, garden centers, and markets along York Road.

REISTERSTOWN: From one end of Main Street to another you can pick up kids clothes at The Elephant’s Trunk, enjoy a coffee at Reister’s Daughter, and get ice cream, salon styling, and more in between

Do you have an aspiring golfer in your household or do you want to share your love of the game with a young person? The Fox Hollow Training Center (FHTC) in Timonium is the perfect place to start—or to get a seasonal refresher.

Golf is a sport a child can learn now and play for a lifetime. Since it’s noncontact, it’s a great way to exercise with less likelihood of injury.

At FHTC, children learn the game from trained professionals and are introduced to important life skills like integrity, sportmanship, and self-control.

The facilities at FHTC are top notch, including 60 hitting stations, three lighted putting greens, and practice bunkers. FHTC is routinely ranked nationally as a Top 50 Driving Range
by the Golf Range Association of America.

Now is the time to get in the swing of things, with special offers like professional instruction at reduced rates for juniors and reduced and/or complimentary access to any of Baltimore County Golf’s five courses for golfers 17 and under. Or take advantage of one of FHTC’s summer camps.

baltimoregolfing.com

Baltimore County has countless places to get out and connect with friends and family.
Here are just a few:

CROMWELL VALLEY PARK, PARKVILLE
Just minutes from Towson, this park encompasses 460 acres of stream valley and upland habitat, a combination that makes it perfect for birding. The nature center offers many programs or simply enjoy its hiking trails.
cromwellvalleypark.org

MARSHY POINT NATURE CENTER, CHASE
Sitting within a 3,000-acre nature preserve on the Upper Chesapeake, Marshy Point offers innnovative programs and exhibits for visitors, hiking trails, and Baltimore County’s first water trail for kayaking or canoeing!
marshypoint.org

BENGIES DRIVE-IN THEATRE, MIDDLE RIVER
Recapture a bygone era at Maryland’s only remaining drive-in theatre. Featuring the “biggest movie theatre screen in the USA,” Bengies is a great spot to enjoy the latest blockbuster.
bengies.com

PRIGEL FAMILY CREAMERY, GLEN ARM
At the scenic Prigel Creamery enjoy a scoop of chocolate peanut butter, caramel pretzel, or even a choose-your-own ice cream sandwich, while the farm’s dairy cows graze happily in their pastures. P.S.: They serve way more than ice cream!
prigelfamilycreamery.com

HAMPTON NATIONAL HISTORIC SITE, TOWSON
In 1790, Hampton was perhaps the largest home in America. Today, the architecturally significant home and surrounding site offer a chance to explore and gain a deeper understanding of the complex history of our nation.
nps.gov/hamp

There’s no better way to spend a hot, humid summer day than lazing down the Gunpowder River in a tube. The always cool and shaded river winds its way by pastures and woodlands, meandering parallel to the NCR hike and bike trail. Tubing is the antidote for harried lives.

The Monkton Bike shop, housed in the historic Monkton village, offers tubes for rent for kids and adults. It has also marked two tubing routes accessible by foot. Simply walk north on the NCR trail and look for the blue tree markers to find the path where you put in at the river. When you coast under the Monkton Road bridge you’ve reached the end of your float.

The Gunpowder is generally tranquil and often shallow enough to walk and splash in, making it a perfect outing even with young kids.

Looking for more outdoor adventures?
Here are a few destinations to add to your summer bucket list:

LOCH RAVEN RESERVOIR
The protected woodlands around the reservoir feature 60 miles of hiking trails while its calm waters are perfect for kayaking.
baltimorecountymd.gov/departments/environment/watersheds/lrmain.html

NCR (TORREY C. BROWN) TRAIL
Whether you’re a runner, walker, or biker, the nearly 20 miles of trail following the meandering path of the former Northern Central Railway (NCR) offers optimal conditions. Just look out for tubers sharing the path on hot summer days!
dnr.maryland.gov/publiclands/pages/central/tcb.aspx

B’MORE SUP
Interested in paddle pilates? Or a board excursion with your pup? Whether you simply want to try staying upright in a begininers paddle board class or you’re ready for yogaflo on your board, the three locations of B’More SUP are here to help.
baltimoresup.com

ROCKY POINT GOLF COURSE
Go for par—which is 72, by the way—on this exceptional course set in meandering natural wetlands, the only waterfront course on the western shore of the Chesapeake Bay.
baltimoregolfing.com/course/rocky-point

PATAPSCO VALLEY STATE PARK
There are 200 miles of hiking trails inside the park’s more than 16,000 acres. See for yourself why the park is nationally recognized for its trail system and scenic beauty.
dnr.maryland.gov/publiclands/pages/central/patapsco.aspx

Pickleball is having a moment right now. If you’ve recently passed by a public park, country-club tennis court, or suburban driveway, you might have spotted people swinging what look like oversized Ping-Pong paddles at yellow wiffleballs and wondered what the heck they’re playing. The answer is pickleball—considered one of the fastest-growing sports in America.

“Pickleball is booming,” says Lynne Coburn, pickleball director at Coppermine, which offers the sport at its Roland Park and Pikesville fitness centers. “It’s awesome to see the growth here in Baltimore, and also around the country and around the world.”

While participation exploded during the pandemic—growing more than 21 percent in 2020, according to the U.S.A. Pickleball Association—the sport is not new. Just ask Coburn. A retired physical education teacher, she was drawing chalk lines on tennis courts 30 years ago to teach her middle-school students how to play the game, which is said to have been invented in 1965 by Seattle dads to entertain their bored kids. (Legend also has it that one had a dog named Pickles who kept running off with the balls.)

Today, Coburn runs Coppermine’s pickleball programs, teaches clinics at multiple Baltimore country clubs, and lobbies the local recreation departments for more courts. There are some 70 lined pickleball courts in Baltimore County—four pickleball courts can fit on one tennis court—while in the city, examples exist from Riverside Park to Druid Hill Park. Buy a portable net on Amazon and you can play on any hard surface.

The rules are unique. Players serve underhand and points can only be scored by the serving team. Using a variety of shots, the first person (or team, as you can also play doubles) to 11 points wins. There are rules about when the ball must bounce and where you can step, generally outside of “the kitchen,” a non-volley zone on either side of the net. What’s the appeal of this fast-paced sport that some still dismiss as a leisure pursuit for retired people? Coburn chalks it up to word-of-mouth: “People hear about how fun and social pickleball is,” she says. “It’s a game for everyone.”

Indoors and outdoors year-round, skill level can vary widely from casual to professional, with Major League Pickleball launching last year. At Coppermine, open-play times are divided into competitive and non-competitive. But be forewarned: Pickleball is addictive, says Coburn.

“You don’t even know that you’re exercising because you’re having so much fun.”

It’s an otherwise quiet April afternoon, but Laura Beth Resnick is feeling a little frazzled. The owner of Butterbee Farm, a five-acre flower farm tucked down a side street of a Pikesville neighborhood, is usually cool and calm, but in the middle of the night—with the outside conditions hovering around freezing—an alarm went off warning that the temperature had dropped dramatically in one of the heated greenhouses. Resnick had to wait until the sun started peeking out to assess the damage to her treasured flora. Luckily, she says, flashing a relieved grin, “Everything is fine.”

Such is the life of a flower farmer. One off element—a temperature flux, a powdery mildew, too much rain, too little rain—can derail months of work. But that makes the victories all the sweeter. Walking her farm—past the rolling hills, beehives, vegetable garden, greenhouses, and hand-worked flower beds—she appreciates the beauty because she knows how much work goes into it.

Resnick grew up in Anne Arundel County, but her family moved here so she could attend the Friends School of Baltimore for high school. Even as a latecomer to the city, she felt an instant kinship. After high school, she continued her flute studies at a conservatory, but left before graduating—transferring to Barnard College to finish her undergraduate degree.

“I was feeling very lost,” says Resnick. “So I just kind of fell into farming because a friend of mine did it and I thought it sounded like fun.”

She also desperately needed something to fill that flute-sized hole. “I went through a period of loss,” she says. “I had worked for a really long time to become an outstanding performer, and when that didn’t feel right anymore, I just felt completely at sea.”

Resnick was also going through a chronic illness at the time—she’s since recovered—but all of those feelings needed an outlet. And it turned out farming was it.

“I just suddenly had this feeling that I’m doing something worthwhile.” She worked on farms in New Hampshire, Massachusetts, and Pennsylvania, and it was exactly what she needed. Resnick loved that you could see your actions have an immediate impact in real time.

“I JUST SUDDENLY HAD THIS FEELING THAT I’M DOING SOMETHING WORTHWHILE.”

“You plant a seed and the next day it sprouts, or you dig up a bunch of carrots and you wash them off and they’re beautiful and glistening and you’ve never tasted carrots that sweet,” she says wistfully. “You can see and feel how worthwhile you are in the world—that’s what got me hooked.”

At one point, Resnick realized she didn’t like the way the farm she was working for was being managed. So she decided to write her own business plan. To her surprise, she loved it.

“I got to think about my ideas and put them down on paper and play with different crop plans and different models.” And that was when she realized she was ready for her own place. “I think a lot of people start farming because they love gardening, and that’s all well and good and very useful, but I truly think that I came at it from the other direction. I actually like running the business and being my own boss, even more than I like growing.”

Resnick returned home to Baltimore, eager to get started.

At the same time, she met Ellen Frost, owner of Local Color Flowers, a florist dedicated to sourcing only flowers from within 100 miles of Baltimore. Frost happened to be doing the flowers for Resnick’s sister’s wedding. At the consultation, they started talking about farming.

“I told her I had moved back to start a vegetable farm and I was looking for land,” says Resnick. “And she said, ‘Well, you should think about growing flowers. There’s a hole in the market, and there’s plenty of vegetable farmers around.’” That comment completely changed the trajectory of Resnick’s life.

“I said, ‘Okay, if you’ll buy everything, I’ll grow it.’” Frost is known for supporting new flower farmers, so Resnick didn’t hesitate to jump on board. Frost and a few other florists bought everything Resnick planted in her first two years so she could strictly concentrate on the mechanics of growing. It’s a partnership that has worked out really well for Frost.

“We pay growers for their flowers but also coach them in the way to sell to florists,” Frost explains. “How do you bunch things? What kind of buckets do you deliver in? The goal is that they are able to branch out and sell to other florists going forward.”

Frost also connected Resnick with the Maryland Cut Flower Growers Association, a group of farmers supported by the Maryland Department of Agriculture. The growers were all super experienced and “I definitely did not feel like it was appropriate to be like, ‘How do I flower?’” laughs Resnick.

Instead, she listened to high-level conversations, barely comprehending the content. But she paid attention, visited their farms, and learned to ask the right questions. Now Resnick sits on the board of the Association of Specialty Cut Flower Growers, a nonprofit dedicated to supporting flower farmers, and fields questions from novice growers with the same inquiries she had.

“I ACTUALLY LIKE RUNNING THE BUSINESS AND BEING MY OWN BOSS.”

After Resnick settled back in Baltimore, she visited with the sister of her high school boyfriend. “I stayed really close with his family,” she explains. She drove out to Alto Dale Farm, the family’s farmstead in Pikesville. “You should think about farming here,” the sister told Resnick. “I was like, ‘That seems like a terrible idea,’” Resnick laughs. “Family and business don’t mix.”

At the time, Resnick was farming on one thirteenth of an acre at Whitelock Community Farm in Reservoir Hill but was ready to feel more settled and expand her flower offerings. Resnick excitedly agreed to give it a shot and, in 2014, relocated her tiny Butterbee Farm, named after a character (a butterfly called Butterbee) in a bedtime story her dad use to tell her, to start leasing the farmland at Alto Dale.

Now, Resnick lives on the farm with her husband Jascha Owens (no, he’s not the ex-boyfriend), who works as the property’s groundskeeper.

Resnick and Owens, who graduated from MICA’s MFA painting program, met on OkCupid. On their first date, he helped her plant and weed for a few hours at her Whitelock plot and then, dressed in their dirty farming clothes, they had tea at Charmington’s. Years later, he reached through the truck window—she had just gotten back from a delivery—with an engagement ring and a bouquet of flowers. They were married in 2016 in her parents’ backyard. Resnick played the flute at her wedding and Frost did the flowers.

In her very first year, Resnick grew Celosia and flowering basil. Now there’s lilac, sweet pea, mock orange, peonies, hellebores, flowering quince, tulips, ranunculus, double daffodils, echinacea, nigella, statice, poppies, snapdragons, foxgloves, dahlias, and more.

Thanks to the two heated greenhouses on the property, the farm is pretty much able to grow year-round—which suits Ellen Frost just fine. She’d been trying for years to bring winter-grown flowers to the state. And she knew Resnick was just the woman to pull it off.

“She likes a challenge,” says Frost. “Winter growing was the perfect challenge for Laura Beth at this stage of her farming life.” She adds, “We share the same sort of passion for bringing local flowers to the community.”

Several times a week, Resnick and her team head out, her van packed with buds, and make deliveries to other flower shops in Baltimore, Washington, D.C., and Virginia. “We have so many close relationships, and it’s really my favorite thing and why I got into farming. I love being part of something with other people—it’s the best.”

Resnick hopes to see more people at the farm soon, too. She misses seeing neighbors, friends, and guests at the workshops, classes, and farm tours hosted pre-pandemic at Butterbee.

Despite the setbacks, the flowers keep growing. The work is backbreaking and exhausting, and being the boss is hard. There are occasionally tears, sunburns, and frustrations. But often, in the afternoon, after a 10-hour day, Resnick will walk down the gravel path to check the mailbox with Owens and Dell, the farm dog.

As she heads back toward the house, the sun bouncing off the trees that line the property, it will often hit her just how beautiful her life is.

“It’s so pretty here. I’m so lucky,” says Resnick. “And that feeling of gratitude counters all the hard things.”

[Editor’s Note: This piece was published as part the cover story “Behold the COVID Buying Boom,” for our April 2021 issue, on newsstands now.]

It was just over a year ago that the world seemed to come to a screeching halt. One day parents were driving their kids to baseball practice, and the next they were hoarding toilet paper and creating Zoom accounts.

As the country erupted into panic and confusion those first few days in mid-March, three Mt. Washington neighbors started texting each other. Sam DuFlo, owner of Indigo Physiotherapy, wrote the first group message on March 15, 2020, to Samantha Claassen, proprietor of Golden West Café, and Vanessa Pikler, a Baltimore-based psychologist. They decided they needed a community meeting and invited everyone who lived along the alley behind Rogers Avenue and Greenberry Road. Seven families showed up.

“We all stood in a big circle six feet apart,” recalls Pikler. “We didn’t even know masks were important at that point.”

The meeting was simply to acknowledge the fact they were in this together. The neighbors made a promise, offering to pick up groceries, help with medical questions (like where someone could procure a COVID test), walk dogs, and look out for each other, especially the older residents on their block, using a Facebook page and group text. With their calendars suddenly wiped clean and the state in lockdown, they had nothing but time and energy to put toward each other.

Under normal circumstances—even in a place like friendly “Smalltimore”—the majority of neighbors see each other mostly in passing. Pleasant but brief interactions—a wave, a quick hello while walking the dog, a commiseration over bad weather—are the most we can hope for as we run from soccer games to dinner reservations to work meetings to theater performances to vacations.

Stopping to chat meant being late for something. But all of a sudden, everyone’s world shrunk to include only their house, and for sanity’s sake, their street and their neighbors.

“A shared crisis has a way of galvanizing relationships,” says Pikler.

It’s something we’ve witnessed all over this city. In the Jones Valley townhouse community, Jeremy Steinhorn arranged for weekly food trucks to come to his Pikesville neighborhood, a gesture that both supported struggling businesses and created an opportunity for folks to do something that felt normal.

In Towson, more than 1,000 paper lanterns snaked through the Stoneleigh neighborhood in early January as a way of getting neighbors out of their houses and safely interacting with each other. A month earlier in Rodgers Forge, Christmas lights were strung between homes, creating a magical canopy and festooned with a simple but weighty message fashioned from rope lights and coat hangers: “Love Lives Here.”

Kim Morton, who inspired the first string of lights, wrote in a Baltimore Sun op-ed, “These lights are a visible sign of the connections between our families. You need to know your neighbor pretty well to be able to climb on the roof, feed extension cords through windows, drill hooks in the brick, and guide the lights between the trees. Our kids created the term ‘neighbor family’ to describe our relationship to the neighbors on our block.”

That sentiment made its way to Rogers Avenue, too. Early on in the pandemic, as Pikler got ready to celebrate her husband’s birthday, the family’s first in lockdown, she had an idea. “Would you mind coming out to your back porch or balcony and singing ‘Happy Birthday?’” she texted to the neighborhood group. And they did just that, serenading her surprised spouse as he was walked down the alley. (A tradition that has continued for other neighborhood birthdays.)

The Piklers have also hosted two driveway concerts, hiring the Ricky Wise Trio to scratch that live music itch. They invited the whole alley, and almost everyone showed up, dragging lawn chairs from their yards and spacing themselves out. “We all live busy lives, and yet this has really made us want to take care of each other and build a community,” says Pikler.

The same is true for James and Jennifer Evans and their next door neighbors Matt and Amanda Hall. Early on, the Rodgers Forge families decided to create a “quarantine pod.” Sure, it helped to have their kids occupied with each other while both families navigated working from home and virtual school, but it became so much more. The families—with five kids among them, ranging in age from 3 to 12—started moving beyond playdates to spend holidays and birthdays together, too.

“As each holiday came and went, we became really close,” says Jennifer. “Family was replaced with next door neighbors, but we soon found out they were interchangeable.”

Last summer, the Evans family started a chalk wall on their garage. On it, Jennifer writes every major event the families have celebrated together during the pandemic—birthdays, Easter, Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Halloween, and now, Easter again.

“While scientists rushed to find a vaccine to fight COVID-19, we found an equally important relief for the virus’ side effects,” says James. “Loving and thoughtful neighbors.”

And sometimes that neighborhood has widened to people who’ve never even met. A month into the pandemic, labor and delivery nurse Jessica Butta was getting in her car in Canton, wearing her bright teal scrubs, when a car pulled up alongside her and the driver got out.

“At first I was a little bit, ‘Ohhh God,’” she remembers. “Are you a nurse or a doctor?” he inquired. She said she was on her way to her shift at Hopkins Bayview when he handed her 40 dollars in cash. “I just want to thank you so much for everything. Your dinner tonight is on me,” the stranger told her. Butta started crying as the man got back in his car and drove off. She went into work and that night treated all her coworkers to Chick- fil-A. “I have felt the love from friends and the community,” says Butta, though it was the generosity of a stranger that really overwhelmed her.

For Amit Peled, a world-renowned cellist, the pandemic turned his Pikesville neighbors, many of whom he didn’t know, into an audience. One warm day, Peled, who acknowledges that he “selfishly missed” being on stage, took his chair and cello and sat in his driveway and started to play. People stopped, listened, and immediately asked when he would play again. The next weekend his crowd had doubled.

“Everyone thought with classical music you have to be quiet,” says Peled. But he told them, “Please talk, move around.”

Often an Amazon truck would stop and deliver a package in the middle of a piece. The Peabody Institute at Johns Hopkins University professor invited some of his students to join in the driveway concerts, too. “Without my cello, I’m quite shy,” says Peled. But the concerts offered him a chance to speak to almost everyone in the neighborhood.

A cold snap forced Peled inside his garage (since his 1695 cello, made by Italian master Giovanni Grancino, can be quite temperamental).

“We think the acoustics are actually better in your garage,” more than one neighbor told him. Winter officially ended the outdoor concerts, but also opened up the opportunity for live streams. Acquaintances offered advice as to how his room should be lit and the proper camera angle.

“It’s become a neighborhood project,” says Peled. With local residents tuning in, as well as his parents from Israel and some of his 23,000 Facebook followers, they’ve become some of his best-attended performances.

And while Peled might be famous in the music world, his neighbors are keeping him grounded. “I checked you out on Spotify,” one bystander told him. “You sound much better in our neighborhood.”

Editor’s Note: This review was published in our April issue pre-quarantine, but Goldberg’s remains open for curbside pickup, catering, and delivery until stay-at-home orders are lifted.

On any given Sunday morning at Goldberg’s New York Bagels in Pikesville, you will see the trademark of a great bagel shop: The line.

At peak breakfast time, a baker’s dozen or more customers stand single file, just inside the store’s busy front door, waiting to place their order at a sturdy counter. Six everythings is my typical order.

“Two cinnamon raisins, two black Russians, and a small cream cheese, too,” the woman to my left says. We both shimmy down the line toward the cashier. The pace is hurried, so you better know what you want when it’s your turn, or risk getting the stink-eye from a rightfully impatient worker who wants to keep things moving.

He holds an open brown paper bag that’s asking be filled with what most everyone is here for: Bagels—boiled, baked O-shaped dough, firm on the outside, soft and chewy inside, and authentically New York in style, ready to be sliced and dressed to your liking.

I’ve lived in Baltimore for a decade, but as a native of Long Island—where bagels are in the blood—I feel qualified to judge. We won’t go as far as Goldberg’s straight-shooting, and sometimes brusque, owner Stanley Drebin, 65—an Orthodox Jew and certified public accountant who started the shop 22 years ago—when he proclaims, “My bagels are the best in the world.” But only because we haven’t tried all the others.

Even a guy from New York, where bagels first arrived in America with Jewish immigrants who came to the Big Apple in the late 19th century, will keep coming back to Reisterstown Road for the real thing.

It takes about 20 minutes for baker Robert Bagwandeen, from Jamaica (and not the one in New York), to make a round of bagels. The dough, shipped frozen from New Jersey, is laid out to rise. The baby bagels are then dropped in boiling water for one minute, then baked for another minute on a burlap-lined bagel board in the oven. Finally, they’re flipped to cook on the oven floor for 18 minutes more, until the right blend of crunch and chew is reached.

On first bite, you might notice a Goldberg’s bagel is particularly dense on the inside, maybe too much for some tastes. We don’t mind, and clearly we’re not alone. Drebin says he sells 1.5 million bagels in retail per year, even after a wild controversy—and a drop in business—a few years ago that included protests outside the store when it was revealed that Drebin, and at least one of his employees, supported Donald Trump.

Politics aside, we come for the food. And there are rich, hot soups (lentil is a good one), wraps, omelets, and whatever Kosher dish you could imagine. And any item is available anytime the store is open.

Just don’t expect to walk in during Shabbat—sundown Friday to sundown Saturday— and the Jewish high holidays. Goldberg’s is closed then, but in a beautiful acknowledgement of its customer base, it’s open from sundown to 1 a.m. on Saturdays. And the bagels, we can say, are just as good when it’s dark out.

GOLDBERG’S NEW YORK BAGELS 1500 Reisterstown Rd., Pikesville, 410-415-7001. Hours: Sun. 6 a.m.-4 p.m., Mon.-Thurs. 6 a.m.-3 p.m., Fri. 6 a.m.- 2 p.m., Sat. night (after sundown) until 1 a.m.

As early as 13 years old, Pikesville native Jason Michael Berman had a camera in his hand. He initially thought he wanted to be an actor, but he later discovered a knack for filmmaking.

“At a young age, I got really into making movies and teaching younger kids to use video equipment,” says Berman, who has dyslexia and attended Jemicy School and Friends School of Baltimore. He founded the student video programs that still stand at both schools today. “I was able to build programs around my passion. By the time I got into high school, I knew what I wanted my profession to be.”

After high school, Berman was accepted into the film program at the University of Southern California. Throughout his college years, he produced seven students’ thesis films.

“I found out really quickly that my skill set compared to all my other classmates was producing—bringing things to life, putting projects forward, and picking specific types of talent to work with,” Berman says.

Post-college, Bermanworked at talent agency William Morris before producing his first feature film, Dryland, which screened at the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah. In 2016, Berman returned to Sundance with Mandalay Pictures’ Birth of a Nation.

Ten years after his first trip to Sundance, Berman, now the president of Mandalay Pictures, went back to Park City earlier this year to screen Nine Days, a sci-fi epic starring Winston Duke, Zazie Beetz, Bill Skarsgård and Tony Hale. In the film, Duke’s character holds the power to interview prospective human souls as candidates for the privilege of being born. The film has received lots of positive buzz, and Berman hopes to return home to screen it at the Maryland Film Festival this spring.

“I love movies that have a coming of age component to them,” says Berman, who is in his fifth year at Mandalay, where he has also produced eight movies for Netflix. “[Nine Days] was just something we had never seen before.”

Late last month, on the heels of a Sundance Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award, it was announced that Nine Days had been picked up for distribution by Sony Pictures Classics—the same studio that screened the Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith-backed Charm City Kings at the festival.

Ahead of a long rollout for Nine Days, we spoke with Berman about his Baltimore roots, the process of producing the film, and his favorite local haunts.

Have you always known that you wanted to work in the entertainment industry?
I’ve always had a passion for movie making. I think it stems from the fact that reading and writing when I was young was tough. Having dyslexia gave me this outlet to explore the world through filmmaking and telling stories. So I went right towards it and made a career out of that passion. Now, I’m 12 years into my career. It was not easy to get to this place, and it will never be easy. It’s been a constant battle. Every time you get a movie made, it’s like a miracle.

How would you describe what a producer does?
Being a producer is like planning a party for a couple thousand people. We’re in charge of making sure everything goes right—helping find and develop material, working to find filmmakers, cast, and finances, and being present during movie making to make sure we’re staying with the vision of the filmmaker. We also oversee editing, hire the entire crew, and manage budgets and tax credits. I think I’m really good at putting the pieces of a puzzle together.

How have you grown in your job?
As a producer, I have grown so much over the last 11 years. I know how to develop and deal with talent, investors, and crew better. I know how to be a better producer to a director. Every movie you do is different. There’s so many unique components—locations, storylines, relationships, and training people. You just continue to learn with different types of people and different places and parts of the world, and I think that’s one of the cool things about making movies.

With projects that you pursue or work to get made, what are you drawn to?
We look at everything in all genres. As long as we find scripts that have really compelling characters that make meaningful transformations through the course of the narrative they’re in, with distinct roles and visionary filmmakers behind them, that’s what we go after.

You were at Sundance in January for Nine Days. What’s it like to attend—are there different levels of expectations based on what you’re showing?
Yes. I’ve gone to Sundance with movies that have distribution, and I’ve gone with movies where you’re trying to sell distribution. It is really intense and a wild rollercoaster of emotions. I’m 37 now, and I had my first movie at Sundance 10 years before. It’s a lot harder the older you get. You have more experience dealing with it. What becomes harder is managing the stakes—you’re more seasoned in your career and there’s more expectation on you and that you place on yourself. For me, Nine Days was the most intense, but also the most enjoyable.

How so?
Managers and agents of our actors loved the film. People wanted to get in a room with [writer-director Edson Oda]. Out of the 25 movies I’ve produced over the past 11 years, I’ve never had so many incoming calls from agents and managers for clients requesting to meet a director. And that was before it was even financed. But people loved the writing so much that they were willing to sit their clients down with the director even though financing wasn’t closed. That is extraordinary. We were able to put together an incredibly talented group of actors to be a part of it. Everything just worked with this movie. It was meant to be, and that’s very rare in a film.

You’re hoping to bring the film back home for the Maryland Film Festival this spring. What are some of your favorite Maryland pastimes?
The most memorable place in Maryland for me is The Crab Claw in St. Michaels. I loved going there growing up. I’m a big Orioles and Ravens fan. I love Linwood’s in Owings Mills. I love boating the Chesapeake Bay—I grew up boating with my family, and we all love Kent Island, where we kept our boat. Most of my family is in Maryland, so it’s always great coming home

Market Maven, one of two major kosher markets in the Pikesville area, has a multi-layered security plan that includes a scenario for an active shooter. With the rise in high-profile anti-semitic attacks over the last few years, precautionary measures have unfortunately become imperative for local business owners and political leaders.

The Anti-Defamation League, a century old national Jewish civil rights organization, estimates that 2018 had the third-highest total of anti-semitic incidents the group has recorded since it starting keeping records in the 1970s.

In October 2018, 11 people were tragically killed in a shooting at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh, which was deemed the deadliest anti-semitic attack in U.S. history. Six months later, a shooter at a synagogue outside San Diego killed one person and injured three more. And just last week, three people died when a gunman opened fire at a kosher market outside Jersey City, New Jersey.

In response to this latest attack, additional security and police camera towers were added at Market Maven and Seven Mile Market, Pikesville’s other major kosher food purveyor. Market Maven’s general manager Zachary Richards believes there is a cyclical nature to these attacks.

“Unfortunately, attacks against Jewish institutions are nothing new,” Richards says. “Security has always been a primary concern for Jewish communities here and around the world.”

In the wake of the Jersey City shooting, government officials emphasize the need to be on high alert at Pikesville markets, synagogues, and community centers. The Baltimore Jewish Council is in constant contact with its network to ensure the community is aware of national and global incidents.

Councilman Izzy Patoka of Baltimore County’s 2nd District works with state Del. Jon Cardin and The Associated, a Baltimore Jewish philanthropy organization, to keep watch and brainstorm ideas to ensure the safety of the community.

“We look at what’s happening in Baltimore and how we can make our community stronger,” Patoka says. “and more aware of what’s going on in terms of anti-semitism.”

Along with his longtime friend, City Councilman Isaac “Yitzy” Schleifer of Baltimore’s 5th District, Patoka coordinated response measures in the wake of the Jersey City shooting last week, including reaching out to Baltimore County police chief Melissa Hyatt personally, who contacted captains in the area.

“Council members are really where the ground hits the rubber on the road,” Patoka says. “When these things happen, it’s heartbreaking. Councilman Schleifer and I have a regional partnership where we choose action over inaction.”

The cameras and added force are not permanent, Patoka says—rather, the Baltimore County Police department will determine location and duration based on intelligence sharing with other law enforcement agencies.

As for Richards and Market Maven, he felt it necessary to reassure shoppers, answering questions on the phone to qualm any fears. Richards commended the police force for being very proactive and responsive in implementing safety measures.

“My heart is filled with sadness,” says Patoka, who notes that his parents were Holocaust survivors. “But I also think that we need to be vigilant as a community. I take these things personally. We all want the Jewish community to be able to worship, as other members of other religions would.”

While I can’t say for certain, I’m fairly sure that the idea of food guilt was first born at a Jewish deli—a place with matzo balls as big as billiard balls, inch-thick hot dogs, and sky-high sandwiches crowded with Brobdingnagian portions of pastrami, chopped liver, and Russian dressing.

Such is the case at The Essen Room, a new Jewish deli in Pikesville, whose slogan is: “Where size does matter!” and where there’s a place on the Wall of Shame (and a free meal) for anyone who can single-handedly consume in one sitting the G.B.M.F.—that’s great big mother f—er—a platter of corned beef, brisket, turkey, roast beef, and pastrami (usually something meant for three to four people). Then again, with food this good, guilt has no place at the table. Years back, owner Neil Parish moved to Cherry Hill, NJ, where he owns a sister spot, The Kibitz Room.

Luckily for us, he wanted to spread his New York-style deli love—and his “secret” house-made brown mustard—all the way back to the Baltimore area, where he was raised and still has family. Visit The Essen Room, on the site of a former Original Brooklyn Water Bagel Co., anytime during business hours, and prepare for a bit of organized chaos—clearly, Pikesville-ians have been starving for this for a long time.

With its white subway tile and row of salamis strung from the ceiling, this place will feel instantly familiar. For me, several pilgrimages to Essen were particularly personal. Dining at Essen, which means “eat” in Yiddish (and German), feels like a return to home, a safe, familiar harbor in uncertain times. At a time when the world feels upside-down, I can count on the fact that corned beef on rye with mustard is still the same staple I ate as a kid.

My biography, in fact, is written in the deli display cases. There’s the noodle kugel, with its fine egg noodles mixed with cottage cheese, sour cream, and sugar like my mom, Millie, made for every Jewish holiday. There’s the cow’s tongue that, much to my dismay, my Russian immigrant grandmother, Beila Salkoff, thought of as a delicacy, and the kippered salmon that reminds me of every bris, Kiddush, and shiva I ever attended.

Even if Eastern-European cuisine is not part of your heritage, there are so many things to love, from the giant menu with clever combinations, such as one creation with turkey, corned beef, and tongue with coleslaw and Russian dressing; and another of fries with brisket, fried onions, barbecue sauce, and cheddar cheese. To add to the authenticity, you’ll also find cans of classic Dr. Brown’s soda in the cold case and an all-you-can-eat pickle bar, including half-sours, sour tomatoes, and hot and spicy peppers.

Onion Rings

Order these spectacularly crispy, deep-fried marvels and we guarantee you’ll soon be shedding tears of joy. Eat them on their own or consider them as a crunchy companion to whatever else you order.

Someone should write a love song about the pastrami reuben, with its thin, buttery ruby-red fatty folds of smoked meat served on lightly seeded rye bread and adorned with several slices of Swiss, a drizzle of Russian dressing, some spicy brown mustard, and a soupçon of sauerkraut. The whitefish salad sandwich also deserves high praise. Unlike many salads of its kind, which tend to be overly puréed with too much mayo, this version features fat chunks of flavorful fish and only a tad of mayo. The matzo ball soup, aka Jewish penicillin, more than lives up to its nickname, with house-made chicken stock, wide egg noodles, pieces of chicken, and feather-light matzo balls.

Then there’s the potato knish, a doughy snack stuffed with puréed potato, onion, and spices. Typically, knishes are little starch bombs fried in chicken fat. At Essen, which features eight different types of knishes, including one stuffed with hot dogs, the dough is like fine pastry and the filling is light instead of leaden. Knish pros will know to dip theirs in Neill’s house-made mustard to moisten them.

Cross the finish line of your meal properly and choose from among many promising desserts, including seven-inch-high carrot cakes, house-made cheese Danishes, and jelly-filled hamantaschen, traditionally eaten during the holiday of Purim, but available here year-round. I settled for a slice—make that a brick-sized slab—of babka, a type of Jewish coffee cake, swirling with chocolate and studded with nuts and raisins.

While the eminently friendly staff can feel harried at times, that only adds to Essen’s appeal. Order at the counter, and the food arrives at your table in a New York minute—which is a good thing, because you’ll need extra time to tackle whatever is on your plate. And there’s no shame in that.

It’s not every day that a Baltimore artist becomes famous, especially when their medium is needle and yarn. But earlier this year, Sam Barsky woke up one morning to find that his sweaters—which he hand-knits with patterns that depict iconic places from around the world—had suddenly gone viral. Within a matter of minutes, everyone from NPR to Today wanted a piece of his thread. 

The 42-year-old Pikesville resident not only makes short- and long-sleeved sweaters of landmarks like Times Square and the Golden Gate Bridge, but he actually travels to those locations and snaps a selfie while wearing the sweater that matches the site. Over the past 18 years, he has made 108 sweaters and visited 100 of his subjects, including Stonehenge in England, Niagara Falls in Canada, and the Western Wall in Israel. This month, he’s traveling to Nevada, where he’ll debut three brand-new knits—the Las Vegas Strip, the Hoover Dam, and Red Rock Canyon. “Anything that crosses my eye is a potential sweater,” he says.

As a longtime Baltimorean, he’s also captured local landmarks right here in his hometown—Camden Yards, the National Aquarium, the Light Rail—and his works have been displayed at the American Visionary Art Museum. Even with nearly 40,000 followers, he’s still proud to represent his city, and hopes to cover more of it using pops of color and thick strands of yarn. “The opportunities are endless,” he says. “I have so many ideas, I know I won’t get them all done in my lifetime.”

Time was, if you wanted to eat well, fine dining was the most obvious option. But as casual spots—and even bars—serving foie gras, lobster tails, and P’tit Basque have started to elevate the scene, that rule no longer applies. Yes, fine dining has been on the wane for years, but reports of its death have been greatly exaggerated. That’s because it isn’t just about the food. It’s about deep wine lists, impeccable lighting, tasteful artwork, and the feeling that a respite from the world—at least for a few hours—is, in fact, possible.

Veteran caterer Charles Levine hits many of these high notes at Citron in Pikesville. For the past 30 years, Levine has worked the wedding, bar mitzvah, and special events circuit. But despite his long and storied career (including feeding the likes of Mick Jagger, Oprah Winfrey, and Ronald Reagan), he felt the need to switch gears and open his first brick-and-mortar eatery.

Perched over a picturesque body of water, Citron, which means “lemon” in French, is a thing of beauty, a cream dream with tasteful touches of charcoal and beige (as imagined by Jay Jenkins of Jenkins Baer Associates), and significant modern artwork gracing the walls (by local artists such as Tammra Sigler and David Brown). And it is set to be one of the most spectacular alfresco dining destinations in Baltimore County.

Ever since its opening in early November, throngs of Levine’s catering customers—as well as new patrons—have been pouring into the dressy dining rooms. On a recent Saturday night, we were among them.

As if on cue, our black-tied server arrived immediately to hand us our menus featuring New American (albeit sometimes faintly generic) crowd pleasers: steak, chicken, and fish dishes, as well as soup, salad, and seafood starters, some of which are augmented by French twists such as an occasional accent of beurre blanc or bordelaise. That said, it was a good thing we were midway through our first round of drinks before we opened the luxe linen books—their golden lettering seemed a portent of what was to come. A vegetarian pasta dish starts at $26, and then prices quickly climb to the mid-$30 range (crab cakes, scallops) and up to $56 for a beef short rib.

To kick off our meal, we started with a so-called “contemporary Caesar salad.” The shredded lettuce could have benefitted from a whirl in the salad spinner, and it had very little of the advertised creamy citrus garlic dressing, which was bland, possibly because it was watered down by the wet greens. (Note to the kitchen: Don’t mess with a classic.)

TUNA TARTARE
Asian-inspired sushi-grade tuna bathed in a lime vinaigrette and served with chili-pepper chips is the one to order on a menu of mostly Continental plates.

More successful was a skillet of mammoth mussels served simply with olive oil, sea salt, and a squeeze of citrus. The tender bivalves were prettily presented in a dish that was inset on a metal tower with a bowl below for discarding shells, and the portion was easily large enough to make a meal. One of my three dining companions was similarly pleased with her seasonal greens, a sweet/bitter medley of endive, watercress, spinach, dried blueberries, apple, and pecan brittle in a light Champagne dressing.

With the exception of a deeply disappointing grilled chicken and cavatappi dish (it’s never a good feeling when you’re certain you could have done it better at home using the same box of pasta), the entrees are where the menu really shines. Duck lovers will delight in the Hudson Valley duck served two ways: a pan-seared breast and a crisp confit leg. Both preparations were paired with a savory side of tangy tamarind mashed sweet potatoes and a tart, poached, cherry reduction sauce that offset the richness of the meat.

Citron is a thing of beauty, a cream dream with tasteful touches of charcoal.

Also zero in on the fish dishes. The grilled Atlantic swordfish was a juicy white hunk of fish ably supported by a zippy tomato-olive compote and flanked by sautéed spinach and a harissa-laced white bean mash that resembled potatoes. And the herb-seared Chilean sea bass, served with a bed of wild mushroom risotto, was fantastically flavorful and filling (not to mention prettily plated).

On another night, we ate in the upscale bar area, a dark, den-like space—the yin to the dining room’s yang—with the same offerings, in addition to a more reasonably priced designated bar menu. On this visit, the stars of the meal were the chicken wings—slick with a deeply delicious black-garlic-sesame sauce—and a superb burger comprised of sirloin, short rib, and brisket and featuring house-cured maple Cajun bacon. Service on both of our visits was top-notch, caring, and perfectly paced.

Despite the uneven moments, a pro like Levine will no doubt work out the kinks. And who knows? Maybe fine dining is, in fact, making a comeback.

Spacial Awareness: Finding a house with a studio space is what completely drove our housing search. Since my husband is also an artist, we weren’t just looking for a home with one studio; we were looking for one with two.

Suburban Switch: This neighborhood is really suburban and along with that comes people who have more time to take care of their gardens than I do. I find people’s old hydrangeas and have those around because they make great shapes. I like to keep stuff around that I want to look at and draw.

Blank Space: Since it is a small room, I do need the white space so I can focus. My drawings can be really busy and crowded so the white space is really important to me.

Sentimental Value: My favorite items on my wall are definitely things that are more emotional to me. There is a little picture of my grandmother and a Mother’s Day card from my daughter as well as a drawing she made for me.

Hoard No More: I’m kind of a “stuff” person. Our first Hampden house had bride and groom cake toppers going up the open staircase and I’d say I’ve toned it down a lot. The Christine of 2016 is far stronger than the Christine of the year 2000 as far as my ability to not hold onto everything.

Once Upon A Time: Before being a parent I was in the studio at least five days a week and now if I can get an hour in it’s great. There have been a lot of weeks where that doesn’t happen because the birthday party schedule was just too hectic, but the advantage of a home studio is that I can do 15 minutes here or there.

Mirror Image: My daughter just started spending time with me in the studio in the last three or four months. I can set her up on the floor while I paint and she also will want to paint. It’s great, if I am painting stripes, she will want to paint stripes, too.

There are no drapes in Ken and Andrea Burkom’s 3,900-square-foot, one-story home. Instead, in the master bedroom and bath, wood-fenced courtyards provide privacy while extending the rooms’ visual boundaries and bringing in light and a sense of nature. And in the main room, a 48-foot-long wall of floor-to-ceiling windows blurs the line between the modern interior and the tree-lined yard.

To liven up the austerity of the simple design, vibrant pops of color (think orange doors, cherry-red light fixtures, and an abstract, Mad Men-style wall mural) punctuate the living spaces and incorporate the family’s personality into the simple midcentury aesthetic.

Before moving into this home in July 2014, the Burkoms lived in a custom home in Reisterstown that Andrea had designed from the ground up. After 11 years, the couple hoped downsizing and moving closer to the city would make life easier for them and their sons, TJ, 13, and Casey, 9.

“We wanted to live closer to everything, to be more centrally located to our lives and our kids’ lives, to simplify through one level,” Andrea says. “We also wanted to simplify by having a slightly smaller but more useful space, where we use every single square inch, instead of having rooms that we don’t use very often.”

That was when they stumbled across the distinctive community of midcentury-modern homes off Stevenson Road in Pikesville, built from the 1940s through the 1960s by developer Gordon E. Sugar. While each home is unique, they share an emphasis on natural light and incorporating the landscape—most are single-story homes with a nearly flat roof and a long wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.

When the Burkoms first saw the property, it didn’t take them long to decide it would be their next abode. “We walked around for 10 minutes and I told Kenny, ‘This is it, this is the one,’” says Andrea, an artist. “It’s not exactly that we were looking at what was there at the time, it was more about the vibe it gave me, the instinct.”

Visualizing a home’s potential can be tricky, says Peter Twohy of 2e Architects, whom the Burkoms hired to help them open up the floor plan and breathe new life into the design. Structurally, the couple removed a wall and bulky fireplace enclosing the kitchen, replaced the carport with a storage area and temperature-controlled two-car garage, added a gym and art studio, and designed an addition for their sons that includes two bedrooms, a study area, and their own laundry room. Aesthetically, however, the project was a carefully considered back-and-forth between Andrea and Twohy.

“We had a very unique relationship,” says Twohy, as he and Burkom stand in a hallway between the pantry’s chalkboard barn door and a supersized painting of the family’s English bulldog, Ozzy. “Every client dictates what happens aesthetically, but she was much more than that. The interior designer on this project was you,” he tells Burkom. “You selected every single color.”

Because her personal tastes can stray from eclectic to modern, Burkom devised a system to stay true to the playful, midcentury-modern aesthetic she and her husband envisioned. A manila folder with colors and inspirational photos served as a guidepost. “If I was looking at something to use in the house, I had to run it by my checklist,” says Andrea. “And if it didn’t fit, it was out.”

Twohy emphasizes that there’s more to design than beauty. “A house is a machine that people live in,” he says. Twohy’s designs are meant to be as logical as they are visually appealing. For example, the Burkom home’s garage opens up to a mudroom, which continues to a bathroom, pantry, and kitchen. “The kitchen is the heart of the house,” he adds.

And to make that heart visible, they removed a load-bearing wall separating the kitchen from the open feeling of the main dining and living room. “We’re always striving for beauty, but, for me, the beauty is meaningless if it’s not functional,” says Twohy, as he points out the kitchen’s more practical elements. A deep drawer by the stove hides away spatulas and whisks. The dishwasher is adjacent to the sink for convenient cleanup. “It’s easy to live here,” he says.

Designing her prior home from scratch gave Burkom the perspective to see what is needed for simpler living. Although their current home is 1,000 square feet smaller than their last house, the thoughtful design makes the lost space almost unnoticeable. “There’s a place for everything,” says Burkom. One way she made things easy was by installing concrete flooring throughout most of the home. “They kept asking me about the floor, ‘Are you sure you want the concrete in your closet, in your bathroom?’ I was like, yes, I want to simplify. I didn’t want a different floor in every room.”

Like construction in any half-century-old home, Burkom and Twohy encountered a few surprises. “Time and again, the house presented challenges, and we would come up with some sort of a solution,” says Twohy. For example, when elevating the ceiling in the entryway, they discovered that the brickwork on one wall didn’t extend to the ceiling. The pair considered a few solutions, including faux painting, but in the end decided on simple, white drywall and added an oversized transom window to maximize the added height. “I’ve trained myself to say, ‘Here’s an opportunity to reinforce the design,’” says Twohy. A tall, narrow window beside the door allows the eye to flow along the brick wall from inside to outside, making the space seem to extend beyond its boundary, a design principle famously used by architect Frank Lloyd Wright.

Sitting on the living room couch, Twohy points out how interior-design elements allow the open great room—which encompasses the dining room, kitchen, bar, and living room—to feel intimate. “It’s an interesting trick to make the space work for 50 and for two,” says Twohy. Controlling ceiling height and creating rooms without walls help to achieve the effect. And the space required special attention while decorating, too. “You have to really use restraint, because you can see everything at once,” adds Burkom. “It was a challenge.”

After going from concept to finished home, and living in it for nearly six months, the Burkoms are happy with the finished product.

“You see the result of a thousand great decisions,” says Twohy, “and it’s fun to see that.”

When Ari Fertel’s oldest son, Zachariah, was diagnosed with dyslexia at age 5, she did what any other concerned parent would do: She tried to help. She read to her son daily, sent him to tutoring, and ordered the latest and greatest in reading software programs. But each had drawbacks: Tutoring was expensive and inconvenient, the software didn’t provide the right kind of instruction, and parent-child reading time would often just create more tension and stress, especially since Fertel was raising 2-year-old triplets, as well.

So, about nine years ago, Fertel, decided to design her own therapy. The end result is the just-released Reading Buddy software program. Using the same voice-recognition technology found in Apple’s Siri, Reading Buddy listens while children read aloud, then provides feedback, correcting them when words are skipped or mispronounced, and doling out kudos for jobs well done. A built-in, customizable reward program—where parents can offer treats for achieving benchmarks—incentivizes use.

“I wanted it to have everything,” says Fertel, 47, who lives in Pikesville with her husband, Mort Fertel, an author and famed marriage expert, and their five kids. “If I could take this perfect parent that I want to be and stick it in this software, what would it look like? I’d be encouraging, I’d be supportive, I’d be non-judgmental, I’d be consistent, I would always be there, available. The software takes on that role, hence the name, Reading Buddy.”

The software is compatible with both PCs and Macs and is available through ReadingBuddySoftware.com. And Fertel already has at least one satisfied customer.

Two years ago, Baltimore City resident Irina Diamond procured a beta version of Reading Buddy for her then-9-year-old daughter, Miri, who “would cry with frustration when made to read.” After just a short time, Miri’s fluency increased, as did her confidence. Now, Miri even reads for fun.

“I found this program better than tutoring because it was on our timetable [and] she was reading to a computer without any judgment,” Diamond says. “I am grateful to Reading Buddy for giving my daughter the confidence she needed to grow as a reader.”