Maybe it’s because when the pandemic hit there was a rush to stock up on canned foods, or maybe it’s because people have gotten into pickling and preserving. Whatever the reason, at area restaurants, from Dylan’s Oyster Cellar to Annapolis’s Sailor Oyster Bar, tin is in.

So why is tin fish making a splash on local menus?

“I equate tin fish to a lot of other preservation methods that have become more a part of what people have learned to love,” says Ben Lefenfeld, chef-owner of La Cuchara, which has a section of its menu devoted to “conservas” (preserved food). “It’s one of those ubiquitous things that started out of necessity but has really grown into a culture all its own.”

This centuries-old way of preserving fish has been around for eons in Portugal, Spain, and South America, where it’s part of the daily diet. Now, it’s finally catching on in Baltimore.

“It’s an opportunity to try different types of seafood you might never have been exposed to,” says Lefenfeld, “and a great way to taste something that was prepared at the prime of the season.”

Enrique Pallares, co-owner of The Wine Collective, enjoys educating his guests about the specialty seafood he grew up eating in his native Ecuador.

“When people ask me about tin fish, I tell them to think of tin fish less in the context of Chicken of the Sea and more in the context of caviar—both are preserved and come in a tin or a jar,” he says of the wine bar’s fare, including calamari in ragout and sardines with lemon and olive oil. “In Europe and South America, it’s just part of the way of life to have an aperitivo and sit and have your glass of vermouth, while you accompany it with olives, tin fish, or charcuterie. In America, people are catching on to the idea of eating smaller bites over a longer period rather than eating giant entrees.”

Like most big cities and their suburbs, Baltimore’s restaurant scene has been graced with staunchly traditional places that have resisted trends over the years. There’s Tio Pepe and The Prime Rib in the city, and The Oregon Grille in leafy Baltimore County.

Recently, we made our way to Hunt Valley to check in on this war horse of country dining. Upon arriving, we were swiftly shown to our table, greeted by our cheery server, and sat down just as the piano player settled into his bench. While waiting for our menus, we took in our surroundings, imbued with Maryland’s rich equestrian history. The leather tack, saddles, and prints of famous horses of yore combine with wood accents to lend an air of gentrified, traditional comfort. (We challenge you to find a trendy touch here.) A quick perusal of the cocktail menu revealed a program heavy on sugary drinks, few of which appealed as aperitifs. Oddly, a full wine list wasn’t initially provided, so our server politely granted our request for one.

Our meal got off to a promising start with oysters on the half shell. We appreciated the creative flourish of the yuzu cucumber mignonette. It lacked acid, but the flavors popped, and we happily polished them off, seaweed salad garnish and all. Next arrived foie gras that was perfectly seared, and here the pickled blackberries did have enough acid to balance the fat.

While waiting for our mains, we patrolled the wine list. Good thing we had something to do, because that wait lasted nearly 30 minutes. Europhiles are not likely to swoon, as the USA sections of the list are the most dominant, if pricey. Our server came over to apologize for the wait and assured us our mains were on the way. Was it worth the wait? A Berkshire Pork Porterhouse was just right. It was lustily salted and coated in a heady bourbon pan gravy. The chop was paired with sweet potatoes and Brussels sprouts, a safe combination. The Cut of the Day, a boneless Prime Rib Eye, was rubbed with whiskey barrel-aged Shozu, another spark of creativity that we enjoyed. But at $65, it was overpriced. We should have stuck with something off the regular selection of prime cuts.

Moving to dessert, the Key Lime pie was classic—it balanced sweet and tang, with a firm crust and house-made whipped cream. The night’s dessert special was less successful: a moon pie of Chambord-infused mascarpone that had no detectable Chambord and was entombed in a faintly flavored chocolate shell so hard we were unable to crack it initially. We wished for a second slice of that succulent pie!

Familiar flavors, traditional surroundings, and deferential service define The Oregon Grille, and “comfort food for carnivores” best sums up our experience. It’s the perfect upscale, date-night destination for anyone averse to global cuisine, intimidating ingredients, or fly-by-night trends.

THE OREGON GRILLE 1201 Shawan Rd., Hunt Valley, 410-771-0505. HOURS: Sun. 11 a.m.-11 p.m.; Mon.-Sat. 11:30 a.m.-midnight. PRICES: Appetizers: $11-22; steaks, chops, lobsters: $38-market prices: entrees: $30-market price. AMBIANCE: Horse-country chic.

More than 20 years ago, long before farm-to-table became a catchphrase, there was John Shields, who traveled up and down the Chesapeake Bay meeting with oystermen, fishermen, and growers, and helped define modern-day Mid-Atlantic cuisine.

With the release of his latest cookbook, The New Chesapeake Kitchen, the veteran author and owner of the newly named Gertrude’s Chesapeake Kitchen is once again reimagining regional fare, not only because the bay has changed, but because he has changed.

“Seven years ago, I had a heart attack,” say Shields. “I had to be really mindful of what I was eating. That got me thinking about how we’ve eaten for thousands of years, and it has been primarily a plant-forward diet.”

To that end, he calls the recipes in his new book both “bay- and body-friendly.” We sat down with Shields to talk about his latest venture, how he got his start in the field, and keeping company with John Waters.

Why did you want to write this book?
The idea for The New Chesapeake Kitchen came about 10 or 12 years ago. I started making notes of what I was eating and where I bought it, and I asked myself if what I was purchasing was benefiting the community. Also, I don’t want to sound morose, but it’s the thing I want to leave—it’s my legacy.

Where did the book’s name come from?
I looked at what went wrong and where we are and what could possibly be a vision for the 21st century. We have to keep one foot in the past to see our way forward, but we need to have a whole new look at the way we eat—a lot of the fish that we used to have in the bay aren’t here. Some of the protein is so precious that we can’t eat it the way we used to. Then we have some species that weren’t here before. We have to take a snapshot of now.

How do you want people to use the book?
It’s a cookbook, and there are a lot of fun recipes, but I also hope that they notice the way it’s put together. I’ve separated the recipes by cooking techniques because I think it takes us back to the idea of plant forward. The idea is to stretch the protein. If we made crab cakes, that could be $60 a pound right now, which would feed three people. But if you turn it into soup, you could make something that is quintessentially Chesapeake and feeds eight to 10 people. It’s bay- and body-friendly.

Why did you thank your cardiologist, Sonia Baker, in the dedication to the book?
There were some not-great things happening with my heart, and I was having a hard time finishing the book. She said to me, ‘Now, listen, it’s a book. How many of these have you done? Just finish it up—you know how to write a cookbook.’

Why did you want to be a chef?
I was working at some clubs in Cape Cod playing the piano. I was with John Waters’ repertory company—we are still friends. A friend of mine, who was a sous chef at the Provincetown Inn, broke his ankle. He said, ‘Hon, you have to go up and cook tonight.’ They brought out these big mesh bags of garlic. I had never seen a whole head of garlic in my life—I was Catholic. That’s really how I started cooking. There was no thought at all.

Recipe: Crispy Rockfish Tacos

This is some of the Chesapeake’s plant-forward eating at its best. A whole slew of wonderful vegetables coming together, all wrapped in a warm corn tortilla, with crispy pieces of the Bay’s favorite finfish, the rock—a.k.a. striped—bass. This dish works well for a party if you set up a taco station with all the ingredients, allowing guests to make their own. Serves 4.

Ingredients

• 1 pound rockfish filet
• 1 cup flour
• 2 teaspoons salt
• 1 teaspoon cumin
• 1 teaspoon garlic powder
• ½ teaspoon chipotle powder
• ½ teaspoon paprika
• ¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper
• ¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• Oil for frying
• 8 fresh small corn tortillas

Lime-Jicama Slaw

• 1 cup shredded cabbage
• ½ cup shredded jicama
• ¼ cup chopped green onion
• ¼ cup julienned carrots
• 1 tablespoon chopped cilantro
• ¼ cup mayonnaise
• Juice of 1 lime

Avocado Cream

• 2 ripe avocados
• ½ cup sour cream
• Juice of ½ lime
• Pinch of ground cumin
• Salt, to taste

Directions

In a bowl, combine the cabbage, jicama, green onion, carrots, and cilantro. In another small bowl, combine the mayo and lime juice. Pour over the top of the vegetable mixture, tossing to coat well. Refrigerate for one hour before serving.

Cut the rockfish filets into 1½-inch chunks. In a bowl, mix the flour with the salt, cumin, garlic powder, chipotle powder, paprika, cayenne, and black pepper and blend well. Heat oil to a depth of 1½ inches until quite hot. Dust the rockfish pieces with the flour mixture and shake off excess. In batches, fry fish until golden brown and cooked through. Remove the pieces of fish with a slotted utensil and allow to drain on paper towels.

While cooking fish, heat a dry (not oiled) cast-iron skillet and warm the tortillas for about 30 seconds on each side. Wrap tortillas in a damp towel and keep warm while heating the rest of the tortillas. To assemble the tacos, place a spoonful of slaw in the center of each tortilla, followed by several pieces of fish and a dollop of Avocado Cream. Remove the skin and pit from the avocados and place the flesh a bowl. Mash the avocado and then add the remaining ingredients.

Garnish with a teaspoon of salsa, plus radish. Serve lime wedges on the side.

This excerpt is taken from The New Chesapeake Kitchen by John Shields. Published by Johns Hopkins University Press © 2018. Reprinted by permission of the publisher.

It’s a proven fact: The closer you are to the ocean, the stronger your craving for seafood will kick in. Fortunately, Rehoboth’s Henlopen City Oyster House is there for you with a tempting array of the Chesapeake Bay and Atlantic Ocean’s finest bounties.

Since opening eight years ago, this sophisticated seafood spot has become beloved by locals and sought out by tourists. With shell-colored walls, rustic wood, and weathered brick, the restaurant, just two blocks west of the beach, is reminiscent of the kind of upscale space you might find in a place like Portland, Maine, but with distinctly Delmarva touches. Tables are topped with Old Bay and Tabasco sauce, while mollusk memorabilia finds its way into every corner, from framed antique oyster plates to a hand-painted mural depicting the namesake bivalve’s anatomy.

To get the juices flowing, a small chalkboard behind the bar lists the daily craft beers on draft, including Maryland brews like a special cask version of the Country Ride pale ale out of RAR in Cambridge. The curated wine and cocktail list is also worth perusing, with the horseradish-heavy house Bloody Marys being a liquid highlight (and hangover cure-all).

For the main feast, begin with the raw bar’s titular oysters. Prettily presented on a silver platter, the rotating selection ranges from local picks, like the restaurant’s own Virginia Salts, to North Atlantic specialties, like Katama Bays and Wellfleets, sourced from Martha’s Vineyard and Cape Cod.

While the shellfish plays a starring role in a number of offerings—classic Eastern Shore stew, bread-crumbed Rockefeller, Creole-style po’boys, or just flawlessly fried—give some love to the rest of the classic menu, too. One mouth-watering must is the plate of flash-fried clam strips, which taste nothing like the mundane morsels from the seafood shacks of our youth. Crispy, tender, and accompanied by a tangy remoulade, these addictive appetizers are (yes, we’ll say it) the best we’ve ever had.

If you like variety, we can’t say enough good things about the massive bowl of bouillabaisse. This fragrant fishermen’s stew is a cornucopia of the sea’s bounty, chock full of fish, scallops, mussels, clams, and shrimp and served with a grilled baguette for bathing in saffron-tomato broth. The New England lobster roll, piled high with Maine lobster meat and mixed with just enough mayo (along with a side of Old Bay fries), is another fine excuse for forsaking that bikini bod. For some turf to balance your surf, try the decadent pulled-pork sandwich—smothered in a sweet and smoky barbecue sauce and piled high with crunchy coleslaw.

By the end of the meal, you won’t have room for dessert, but if you want to linger a little longer, head down the street for a Frosé night cap at The Blue Hen, Henlopen’s James Beard-semifinalist sister restaurant. There’s nothing like a boozy slushy to make it feel like endless summer.

HENLOPEN CITY OYSTER HOUSE: 50 Wilmington Ave., Rehoboth Beach, DE, 302-260-9193. Hours: Sun.-Thurs. 12-9 p.m., Fri.-Sat. 12-9:30 p.m. Cuisine: Elevated seafood classics. Prices: appetizers: $9-13; entrees: $10-99.

Five things to eat, drink, see, hear, and do with your Charm City weekend.

EAT

Jan. 28: Shrimp & Oyster Roast

Lee’s Pint & Shell, 2844 Hudson St. 11 a.m.-4 p.m. $10. 410-327-2883.

Last year, Dave Carey launched Lee’s Pint & Shell, a rebrand of the former Canton brunch staple Saute, in hopes of attracting customers to a more relaxed seafood and beer bar. Needless to say, he’s been successful as neighbors fill up the barstools and pour in for family-friendly food events like this weekend’s shrimp and oyster roast. On Sunday, jump on the bandwagon for an all-you-can-eat feast. Peel all the shrimp you can devour—steamed with onions, potatoes, and Old Bay—and slurp back local oysters on the half shell. Wash it all down with a local beer and stay for the Sunday Funday after party with DJ Nick Paros.

DRINK

Jan. 27: Black & White Party

The Assembly Room, 316-318 Guilford Ave. 8 p.m. $150. 410-396-5430.

The Pratt Contemporaries’ Black & White Party always falls in the dead of winter, yet the annual fundraiser continues to be one of the hottest social events in the city. Now in its 11th year, the party boasts its largest attendance to date as they move a new location, The Assembly Room, due to the library’s renovations. With a fresh Cuban theme, a nod to the 1950s paradise heralded by Ernest Hemingway, enjoy a brief reprieve from the cold weather with a night in Old Havana. Revel in live music, local eats, and a hefty dose of handmade cocktails—from classic daiquiris to refreshing mojitos—plus local beer from Brewer’s Art. Best of all, the evening benefits the local library system’s programs for children, teens, and adults.

SEE

Jan. 27: Orioles FanFest

Baltimore Convention Center, 1 W. Pratt St. Times & prices vary. 410-649-7008.

Opening day may be months ahead of us, but we can hardly wait to see the O’s in action. If you’re like us, don’t worry—FanFest is back to hold us over until we return to Camden Yards. On Saturday, join thousands of fans for this beloved day-long celebration of the birds. Bring the kids to chat with players, snag coveted autographs, and win some prizes. With a little luck, you might even find out what is going to happen to Manny Machado.

HEAR

Jan. 27: Classical Revolution Chamber Jam

Motor House, 120 W. North Ave. 9 p.m. Free. 410-637-8300.

There’s something extra exciting about watching a Bach performance with a beer in hand, but maybe that’s what makes the Classical Revolution experience so satisfying. Swing by The Motor House on Saturday for a night of chamber music sans the fancy concert hall—with string and woodwind music performed by local artists Yoshi Horigushi, Dorothy Couper, Patrick Quinn, and the Pique Collective. Every performance ends with an open jam session so feel free to bring your own instrument.

DO

Jan. 25-27: Polar Bear Plunge

Sandy Point State Park, 1100 E. College Pkwy., Annapolis. Thu. 10 a.m.-1:30 p.m., Fri. 11 a.m.-5 p.m., Sat. 11 a.m.-3 p.m. $75. 410-242-1515.

At the end of January, thousands of shivering souls brave the Chesapeake Bay’s frigid waters to benefit the Special Olympics of Maryland. This year is no different as more than 10,000 plungers will jump into the 30-degree bay once again. Join them if you can muster up the courage to dip your toes in the icy waves or cheer on the cause to benefit statewide athletes with special needs.

Canners Row offers a dining room with a view. Housed in a glass-enclosed former marina office on Canton’s waterfront, the majority of its tables—both indoor and out—provide gorgeous vistas of moored yachts and the glistening harbor beyond. In too many instances around our town and others, great food almost seems like an afterthought at restaurants that offer breathtaking views. The jury’s still out on Canners Row. 

A restaurant is an amalgam of lots of little touches, and, in this respect, Canners Row sometimes misses the boat. Each time we entered, taking note of a cracked pane of glass that went unrepaired between our trips, we strolled past the unattended host stand before being greeted. When we took a seat at a six-top near the back, we brushed crumbs off the chairs. 

While our servers were attentive and friendly enough, they didn’t seem particularly familiar with some of the finer points of the menu. (About those menus: They’re printed on flimsy paper so rumpled you’d think the place has been open for six years, not six months.) Our waiter failed to mention that the Blue Crab Louie sandwich is served cold, or that pickles no longer come with the burgers. 

Still, the kitchen nails a few signature items, notably the delectable pizzas. A built-in oven looms to the side of the bar, and from it emerge some of the best pies we’ve tried in town. The shrimp chai diablo arrived piping hot, its crust the perfect combination of charred and chewy. Topped with shrimp seared with masala chai spice, red peppers, and lemon-basil tahini sauce, the pie made it tough to decide whether it tasted better that night or the next day when we reheated it for breakfast. Next time, we’ll get two.

Among the 10 large dinner plates, the wood-fired sea scallops and shrimp, served atop a butternut squash purée with tasty charred cauliflower and carrots, stood out. The three split scallops and six shrimp were plump and fresh and, at $18, the dish is an excellent value. Similarly, the grilled calamari, one of a dozen small plates, included a generous portion of seafood that was treated with proper deference by the kitchen. 

Misses included crab mac and cheese, which consisted of elbow noodles and a dollop of crabmeat. It appeared and tasted hastily assembled. The Maryland crab soup needed more pepper, the Dock of the Bay burger—with bacon, a fried egg, spinach, and tomatoes—was overly dry, and the crab cake sandwich was decidedly average. 

Owner Robert Alipanah found success at his former eatery, Robert Oliver Seafood in Mt. Vernon, and he’s striving for that at Canners Row. He’s found a beautiful setting in which success is possible. Now, it’s just a matter of executing the little details. 

CANNERS ROW 2723 Lighthouse Point East, Baltimore, 667-239-3466 HOURS Sun.-Thu. 11:30 a.m.-9 p.m., Fri. 11:30 a.m.-10 p.m., Sat. 11 a.m.-10 p.m. CUISINE pizzas, burgers, and seafood PRICES Small plates $9-16; dinner plates, $16-24; burgers $14-16; sandwiches, $11-16; pizza $13-18. AMBIANCE Casual waterfront dining.

Australian millionaire and real-estate mogul Tim Gurner recently shared some words of wisdom with millennials who are struggling to save for a home: Stop buying artisanal avocado toast. It seems like a piece of sage advice to the aspiring homeowner. Then again, Gurner never had the crisped-up creations with roasted tomato vinaigrette at Jake and Ben Lefenfeld’s Minnow. If he had, he’d understand that renting has its merits.

In addition to the avocado toast, everything about this place is well worth the investment. The fare, prepared by former Foreman Wolf cook and Culinary Institute of America grad Drew Lesoveck, is high-quality, well-priced, and fuss-free. Situated in trendy Riverside, Minnow acts as a neighborhood place (we love that Jake, who lives within walking distance, knows the name of every dog who sniffs the sidewalk), but it’s also destination dining as good, or even better, than many fine-dining spots in the city.

The nautical theme is in full force here with bait-fish lures set inside recycled sardine tins from La Cuchara (the owners’ sister spot), fish-print pillows, and marine-blue touches—all of which invoke a modern-day Maryland seafood house. It’s a motif that could easily become kitschy or overdone, but remains tasteful here.

The highly approachable menu, with just the right amount of starters (“Smalls”), entrees (“Biggies”), and sides, practices similar restraint. Minnow’s menu is heavy on simple seafood preparations, though, surprisingly, you’ll also find several stellar vegetarian items, including a black bean burger with shredded beets and a flatbread festooned with lavender, asparagus, chevre, and zucchini.

Minnow offers a familiar take on seafood favorites, but they’re done in a new way. Case in point: Another toast-forward offering is the crab toast—a fresh approach to a crab salad sandwich. It features an oversized scoop of Maryland’s finest jumbo lump perched on a house-made slab of buttery brioche toast drizzled with a classic creamy Green Goddess dressing and served alongside a grilled plum tomato.

Other seafood stars include the best mussels I’ve ever had (and a ridiculous bargain for $5 at the daily happy hour). Sourced from Prince Edward Island, served in a ceramic white bowl, and swimming in a simple sauce of white wine, roasted garlic slices, and parsley, they were so tender they slid straight out of the shell with little to no nudging. A pile of first-rate frites, dressed in garlic aioli and plopped on top, were equally irresistible.

Crispy Tofu
In a sea of seafood, the crispy tofu seems like a menu anomaly and is easy enough to overlook. Go ahead and get it. It has been soaked in soy, garlic, shallots, and sesame oil for 36 hours, and is a great prelude to the menu’s proteins. 

My dining companion and I also enjoyed the shrimp ceviche starter—a meltingly tender affair (soaked in lemon, lime, and orange juices) that seems to evaporate on the tongue and was accompanied by house-made chips for scooping.

Our “Biggies,” included a first-rate plate of Baltimore coddies—two patties made of blended roasted potatoes and cod—that offered a bit of nostalgia with a modern twist. This version is prettily presented atop a bed of sauteed spinach and pea shoots, and basks in a citrusy and sweet orange beurre blanc.

Though instinct would tell you to stick with the treasures of the sea, the non-seafood entrees—including the tomato bisque with grilled raclette on house-made sourdough bread and a killer fried chicken with crunchy pickled cabbage and blue-corn waffles (the smell will make you salivate as you walk in the front door)—are eminently satisfying, too.

In keeping with the casualness of the place, the waitstaff is pleasantly low-key. Over the course of several visits, our servers were helpful without hovering and seemed well-versed on dish details.

The beverage program, overseen by Lefenfeld, is similarly stalwart. Cheekily named rum-, whiskey-, and bourbon-based cocktails are $10 a pop and perfectly put together. (F* That’s Delicious—with Bulleit Bourbon, amaro, and cava—lives up to its name.) And if you don’t mind a bit of restaurant rubbernecking, consider a trendy Old Fashioned that gets smoked tableside.

There’s also a reasonably priced list of local beers and Mediterranean wines. In fact, at $8 a glass for a Spanish rose, you can order the $7 avocado toast and likely still afford a down payment on that one-bedroom loft in Riverside.

Inside Mt. Vernon Marketplace, Tj Tate walks up to the counter at The Local Oyster and peruses the menu. 

“Where are your shrimp from?” she asks in an accent still colored by her Kentucky roots. “Gulf of Mexico,” the woman behind the counter replies. “That’s what I thought,” Tate says, “and I bet I know the fisherman who caught them.”

If Tj Tate had her way, we’d all be asking where our seafood comes from—and we might even know the name of the fisherman who caught it, as well. Tate is the National Aquarium’s first director of seafood sustainability. She was hired more than two years ago to get the word out that, yes, seafood tastes great and is good for you, but more importantly, if we keep harvesting fish as we have been doing, there won’t be enough left for our grandkids to enjoy.

“When you think about the number of people who are going to be on this planet and what they’re going to eat in 20 years, some people are going to be lucky enough to still be eating shrimp from the Gulf of Mexico,” she says. “We’ve got to start working toward a system of sustainability.”

Highlighting sustainability—in this case seafood that is either caught or farmed in ways that consider the long-term vitality of species and the health of the ocean—is a decidedly different tact for the National Aquarium, an organization better known for educating visitors about marine life than advising them on which fish they should be eating. Until Tate started her job in March 2015, the institution had no programs to instruct its 1.4 million annual visitors on what to do about it. Dubbed Seafood Smart, the aquarium’s new program hopes to create a sustainable seafood movement on the Chesapeake Bay and beyond.

“There was a need for someone to reach the consumer, to fill the gap, to work with industry and watermen. The National Aquarium had the position to be that unbiased voice for a really big region,” Tate explains.

 Aquaculture, the honchos at the aquarium believe, is the best way to preserve our wild fisheries. “Aquaculture is a way to ensure our oceans are healthy and our people have sustainable protein,” says Kris Hoellen, the aquarium’s chief conservation officer and Tate’s boss. “That’s a different place for the aquarium—it’s about making conservation relevant.” 

If Tj Tate had her way, we’d all ask where our seafood comes from.

What that means for Tate is working to shift the entire regional seafood supply chain, from the watermen who catch or grow it to the seafood distributors who sell it to the chefs who cook it, and, ultimately, to the consumers who demand it. But, if there’s one thing Tate has already learned, bringing new ideas to a region steeped in tradition is easier said than done.

Back at The Local Oyster, Tate squeezes lemon juice on a half-dozen Skinny Dipper oysters, grown in St. Mary’s County. She adds a dollop of cocktail sauce to each one and slurps them out of the shell like it’s second nature. With her long strawberry blond hair and a quick smile, Tate has the easygoing manner of someone who’s spent the last 20 years on boats.

At 48 years old, she’s a salt-sprayed ball of energy, talking about her 6-year-old daughter one minute (“The only fish she’ll eat is halibut. Halibut!”) and firing off statistics the next: “There are more than thousands of types of seafood that we could be eating, but most people typically only eat five to 10 of some species—that’s just silly.” She seems as if she could get along with anybody, which, in this job, might be her most important asset.

“To be able to communicate what’s important about sustainable fisheries to watermen and the folks in the seafood industry is super important, but it’s a different conversation than one you have with a chef or someone wandering into the aquarium,” says Patrick Hudson, co-owner of The Local Oyster and the farmer who grew the bivalves Tate is eating. “She’s got to wear different hats and make some progress on sustainable seafood in the Chesapeake Bay, which is sometimes much more of a battle than people realize, particularly in Maryland where you have a really conservative group who have been in the industry for generations.”

Tate didn’t grow up around the water. She was raised in a small town in western Kentucky, miles from the sea. The first time she went fishing with her father, she caught a tire. As a teenager, she thought about becoming a marine biologist, but instead majored in communications and worked at a radio station in her hometown. (“Yes, I was known as Tj the deejay,” she quips.)

But something about the ocean, where she vacationed every year as a kid, kept calling. She decided to go back to school for another bachelor’s degree in biology and then a master’s. She settled in Florida and worked for an environmental consulting group before taking over as executive director of the Gulf of Mexico Reef Fish Shareholders Alliance, an organization that works to protect sustainable fisheries and the fishing industry in the Gulf. There, she made a name for herself as a savvy advocate, one who helped defeat a Florida congressman who wanted to reallocate fishing rights held by commercial fishermen to recreational anglers. She also helped start Gulf Wild, a national initiative that let consumers trace a tag on a fish to learn exactly where it was caught, who caught it, and by what method.

“Organizing fishermen is harder than herding cats,” says Buddy Guindon, a fisherman out of Galveston, Texas, and president of the alliance board, which hired Tate. “She was able to coordinate the fishermen, implement sustainable fishing practices, and create change in the Gulf.” 

But like anyone who stirs up the pot, she made a few enemies along the way. Disgruntled fishermen accused her of “stealing quota,” which refers to the amount of a particular fish watermen are allowed to catch in the Gulf. Someone tried to spread a rumor that one of her board members had fathered her child. Through it all, Tate remained resolute. 

“Fishermen are either the biggest part of the solution or the biggest part of the problem,” notes Tate. The problem in the Chesapeake Bay is a general distrust by watermen over rules and regulations restricting the catch. And sustainability remains a dirty word among some watermen.  

Robert T. Brown, head of the Maryland Watermen’s Association, says that regulators base catch limits on “guesstimates” of fish and crabs, rather than hard science. It’s the watermen, who have plied the bay for generations, he says, who know best about the fishery—and how to sustain it. “The scientists are doing the best they can with what they’ve got, but the problem is, it’s still a guesstimate. We do have a sustainable fishery. If we didn’t, we’d be out of business.”

For her part, Tate says her position at the aquarium doesn’t involve being an advocate or taking sides so much as being a facilitator or an educator. “Now I don’t feel like I’m pushing an agenda,” she says. “I feel like I’m protecting a whole area. We want to help people make better decisions. To me that’s the coolest thing. Nobody wants to throw stones at an aquarium.”

When Tate arrived in Baltimore, it didn’t take her long to assess the state of affairs in the bay. “You’ve got amazing seafood and an amazing cultural heritage, but you’ve got a lot of consumers who aren’t eating the seafood,” she says. “They think crabs and that’s it. You’ve got a watermen community that’s fractured—they want to be doing the best for the bay because they want to have a future—but they are still trying to figure out what that means.”

When it comes to sustainability practices, Tate estimates the Chesapeake is about 20 years behind the Gulf, which in turn, is about 20 years behind methods employed on the West Coast. “I expected more people to be on the seafood-sustainability bandwagon a bit, but they’re just not thinking about it,” she says. “Even though there’s all this great seafood, there’s a disconnect. [In Baltimore], you don’t have a lot of fish houses lined up where people see the commercial boats like in Maine or the Pacific Northwest. You see shrimp boats in the Gulf all the time, so you think seafood. One reason why farm to table is doing so well is you see farmers at farmers’ markets, you see the farms. You don’t see fishermen.”

Tate is working
to shift the entire regional seafood supply chain.

In her first few months on the job, Tate met with key players to see how they could work together. And along the way, she’s helped watermen like Billy Rice, who fishes blue catfish on the Potomac River, get a better price for his haul. Blue catfish is an invasive species, so, as Rice says, “It’s actually something [the Department of Natural Resources] wants us to get out of the water.” Tate arranged for chefs and wholesalers to go out on Rice’s boat to witness his work, establishing the kind of relationship that farmers have with buyers of their produce. “She’s been a huge help,” says Rice. “The Chesapeake needs someone like Tj. She can take the message to watermen that you can’t do business like you did 30 years ago.”

Getting chefs, supermarkets, and consumers to demand the bay’s less popular seafood will help create new markets for watermen, while taking pressure off the celebrated species like rockfish. “We put a lot of stress on serving the sexy fish populations, but we fish them to death,” says John Shields, who loves putting what he calls the “trash” fish of the Chesapeake—yellow perch, hardhead catfish, white perch—on his menu at Gertrude’s periodically. He believes other chefs shouldn’t be afraid to follow his lead, particularly when it comes to serving blue catfish. “There’s a percentage of chefs who are already on board, but many chefs, they’re already stretched to the limit. They’re happy if they can get the salmon in, much less worry about where it comes from. But as they learn more about the issues involved, they’ll get on board.”

With recent news reports about slave labor used in Asian fisheries and health and safety concerns about aquaculture overseas, overcoming the stigma of farmed fish is another challenge facing Tate. Up to 90 percent of our seafood is imported, she says, yet the United States has some of the world’s largest wild fisheries and some of the best-managed fish farms. But Americans like their cheap imported fish. Sustainably caught or grown fish will cost more, explains Hudson, who says he has to charge more for his Skinny Dipper oysters than watermen harvesting the wild varieties. Tate will have to convince chefs and consumers the expense is worth it, and convince watermen that the added investments will pay off.

For chefs like Spike Gjerde of Woodberry Kitchen, paying more—and charging more—is a no-brainer. “We have some of the best fish and shellfish in the world and it should command a premium,” he says. “Anything that’s higher quality that requires more work to get, that value should go back to the watermen.”

For now, oysters are the primary crop for aquaculturists around the bay, but Tate says there’s no reason rockfish or other species couldn’t be farmed. Hudson, who at age 31 represents a new breed of forward-thinking farmers, is experimenting with seaweed and soft-shell clams, while he and his father are helping to raise tilapia in an aquaponics facility in Bel Air.  “It’s an ‘and’ not an ‘or,’” says Hoellen. “It’s aquaculture and wild-caught because if the wild-caught can’t be consistently supplied in our restaurants and retail outlets, then it doesn’t stay on the menu. You need both to keep both industries moving.”

Now all Tate has to do is convince people to ask for sustainable seafood. “Nobody is going to do it unless you have someone lighting that spark,” says Shields. “If there ever was a cheerleader for this region, it’s Tj. She was a very good catch.”

When Dylan’s Oyster Cellar shuttered its subterranean pop-up in the heart of Mount Vernon in 2014, we feared for our stomachs, and our social lives. One of the first of its kind, the temporary space had quickly become a hip local favorite—more Brooklyn than Baltimore for its time—and we dreaded the loss of its Old World cocktails, ice-cold oysters, and fan-favorite house-cured sardines.

But now, with the local restaurant scene on the rise, the timing couldn’t be better for the opening of owner Dylan Salmon’s new permanent space. At the east end of The Avenue in Hampden, the cozy hangout returns with its same speakeasy style that beckoned you inside past the hand-painted, gold-leaf sign. With warm lighting, mosaic tile, and a musical medley of conversation and clinking glasses, prepare to be transported to 1920s Paris or New Orleans. 

Intimate and charming, the former flower shop has a fitting connection to Salmon—his wife, Irene, recently retired as a floral designer at Local Color Flowers in Charles Village. Now presiding over the front-of-the-house, she adorns the tables with fresh blossoms and even hand makes the earthy clay vases that hold them.

But besides the ambrosial setting, all traces of the former tenants are gone. From the moment it opened, Dylan’s has felt like a neighborhood haunt, its J-shaped bar always bustling as patrons gather for after-work snacks, full-on suppers, or boozy, late-night noshes (the raw bar is open until 2 a.m. on weekends). We’re obsessed with the thin-walled beer glasses that seem to somehow make the brews taste better, but we can’t resist the craft cocktails that look like mini pieces of art, or the worldly wine bottles that come half-priced on Tuesday nights. 

Whatever your poison, the bistro barstools award you a front-row seat to the master shuckers who artfully shell your oysters and clams. As a seasoned and competition-winning shucker himself, Salmon’s ever-evolving bivalve list highlights the best of both coasts with at least two local options, like Skinny Dippers from St. Mary’s County or Barren Islands from Hoopers Island. 

But Dylan’s Oyster Cellar is more than just an oyster bar. Curated by chef Karl Diehn, formerly of Woodberry Kitchen and Bottega, the simple menu is full of stunning dishes fit for both the seafood-averse and the adventure-seeking ostreaphile. With a smattering of small plates and a handful of entrees, each offering is an elevated take on seafood shack classics or midcentury American cuisine. 

On a recent visit, we savored a round of East Coast oysters and some Baltimore coddies—an age-old regional recipe, also known as the poor man’s crab cake. The crispy classic combines salty cod and mashed potatoes into a fried comfort food that’s best eaten between saltines with a smear of yellow mustard or, in this case, an addictive dijonaisse. 

Each offering is an elevated take on seafood shack classics or midcentury American cuisine.

While you’re there, consider the clams, which come four ways including on the half shell or roasted with butter and Parmesan. The scallop crudo was almost too pretty to eat, gently placed on its seashell with olive oil and herb blossoms.

For a second course, the crab imperial, served in a tin-foil crab shell atop a paper doily, was a beloved throwback, reminiscent of our grandmother’s cooking. The luscious lump crabmeat came broiled with little more than a wedge of lemon and we lapped up every last bite. The seasonal specials are also worthy, focusing on local produce and timely proteins, like the summery soft-crab sandwich topped with fresh tomato and homemade tartar. Just beware: Popular dishes do sell out.

But the star of the show—the dish that diners ogled over as it was whisked past their seat—was the whole rainbow trout. Butterflied, deboned, and swimming in a savory brown butter sauce, the pan-fried fish is a melt-in-your-mouth delicacy that’s reason enough to visit. Snap an Instagram and then follow Dylan’s on social media, as Irene updates the restaurant’s story with behind-the-scenes videos, nightly menu items, and the daily weather. 

With the lampposts lit along The Avenue and The Charmery dishing out the day’s final scoops of ice cream across the street (Dylan’s offers dessert on weekends only), we sat admiring the hustle and bustle of Hampden in a sort of intoxicated daze—be it from the aphrodisiacs, the booze, or both. 

Had we time-traveled à la Midnight in Paris? Hopefully not, because we plan to return soon. 

DYLAN’S OYSTER CELLAR 3601 Chestnut Ave., 443-853-1952.
HOURS Raw bar: Tue.-Thu. 4 p.m.-midnight, Fri.-Sat. 4 p.m.-2 a.m., Sun. 2-9 p.m. Kitchen: Tue.-Sat. 4-10 p.m., Sun. 2-8 p.m.
CUISINE Elevated seafood classics.
PRICES Appetizers: $2-21; entrees: $13-21.
ATMOSPHERE European bistro meets East Coast seafood shack.

What would you eat if you were stranded on a deserted island? That’s what Sailor Oyster Bar co-owner Scott Herbst asked himself when he came up with the concept for this adorable Naptown newbie that’s been serving up oysters—and other fruits of the bay and beyond—since last August. 

Set inside an early 1900s rowhouse in the heart of historic Annapolis, SOB (their acronym, not ours!) has no ovens, no stoves, no microwaves, not even a kitchen. Just a toaster oven, a blowtorch, and ingredients that get prepped in the intimate bar area. 

Herbst, who also co-owns Tsunami, a popular sushi spot down the street, accomplishes a lot with the limited parameters he has set for himself, and there’s tons of ingenuity at work here. In less able hands, this concept could easily be nothing more than gimmickry, but Herbst is a real pro.  

 The menu, featuring oysters from both coasts, various types of crudo, and ceviche, is a celebration of seafood. Highlights include a nod to what sailors ate on their voyages in the 18th and 19th centuries, in the form of trendy Jose Gourmet premium tinned fish, including crème de la crème Bemka white sturgeon caviar (to the tune of $75) served with salted butter, toast, and greens. Salads, “sammys,” snacks like torched octopus, and artisanal toasts round out the menu. (Okay, it’s likely that no one ever ate this well after a shipwreck, but we’re willing to give Herbst a little poetic license here.)

On an early May visit, we sampled a good cross section of the menu, including a seasonally inspired kale salad with goat cheese, strawberries, and spiced walnuts, and a wow-worthy charcuterie board piled high with mortadella, coppa, manchego, spiced nuts, and dabs of fig spread and avocado purée. A standout among standouts was the escolar crudo, a type of mackerel that Herbst describes as the “Camembert of the sea” because of its creamy quality. 

The crudo was served with a cucumber-avocado chimichurri that cut the richness of the fish and delivered a rush of fantastic flavor. Another favorite dish was the torched salmon toast, a novel take on lox and bagels featuring whipped cheese, Norwegian salmon, and dill topped with salmon roe on slices of baguette.   

Everything about the experience was intimate, from our jovial server, Frank, who told us, “My job is to make you happy,” to the vintage vibe—including black-and-white photographs of Herbst’s father and other family members who served in the Navy—and the classic Vargas-style pinup girls papering the bathroom walls. 

If we ever find ourselves shipwrecked, we can only hope that Herbst is on the manifest. 

SAILOR OYSTER BAR 196 West Street, Annapolis, 410-571-5449. HOURS Tue.-Sun. 4-11 p.m. PRICES Snacks: $4-16; crudo: $14; tinned fish: $12-75; toast: $10-15. AMBIANCE Steampunk sailor. 

Strolling past the old five-story brick building on Pratt Street just east of Broadway in Upper Fells Point, our ears were captivated by what, for many Baltimoreans, is our ultimate siren song. Was that—could it be—the familiar crack of mallet hitting shell echoing inside these long dormant but once hallowed grounds?  

The familiar red sign, with the words “Obrycki’s” and “Seafood Restaurant” separated by a crab, still hangs outside the front doors, but a new name adorns the blue awning above it. In the ground-floor space that one of the city’s most renowned crab houses once called home, Angie’s Seafood is hoping to make a name for itself.

Opened last September by Angela Fiorenza and her partner, Zack Ahmed, the large restaurant and bar aims to bring a traditional, down-home seafood spot to a neighborhood that surprisingly lacks them. The menu is dotted with familiar favorites like shrimp cocktail, steamed mussels and clams, steaks, pasta, and, of course, crab in many of its glorious incarnations. 

During two recent visits, we found that while Angie’s isn’t the kind of place that does one particular thing exceptionally well, it does do an exceptional number of things quite well. 

Appetizers tend toward the bar variety—crab dip, fried calamari, mozzarella sticks, chicken in both finger and wing form. We opted to split a jumbo lump crab cake, which lived up to its name in both size and composition. It was piping hot, relatively filler-free, and set an encouraging tone for the rest of our meal. 

The Broiled Fisherman Platter, with shrimp, scallops, crab imperial, and fish (tilapia on the night we visited), is a good way to taste a boatload of seafood. While we’d order it again, next time we’ll ask that it be prepared with less butter, an abundance of which overpowered some of the seafood’s natural flavors. 

The fried items we tried, which included shrimp, oysters, scallops, and fish, seemed to be more in the kitchen’s wheelhouse. Most provided just the right amount of crunch and guilty grease fix that fried food devotees crave. A small filet arrived tableside medium rare, exactly as we requested.

There’s nothing fancy about the service or ambiance at Angie’s. The bar, loud and lively, is a fun place to crack crabs. (Props to our server who told us, without being asked, that, in the off-season, they’re often sourced from Louisiana and Texas, while in the summer some—not all—are local.)

That’s all fine with us—we’re just happy that a new generation of crab house found these old digs to call home.

ANGIE’S SEAFOOD 1727 E. Pratt St., 410-342-0917. 
HOURS Sun.-Thu. noon to midnight, Fri.-Sat. noon-1 a.m. 
PRICES Appetizers: $6.95-16.95; entrees: $18-36; desserts: $5-6. 
AMBIANCE Lively.

We could all use a makeover every once in a while. That was what Dave Carey thought about Saute after eight years of business in Canton. Located at the corner of Linwood Avenue and Hudson Street, the bar always felt a little stuffy to us—with higher-than-average price points, fancy entrees, and even a name that didn’t feel very Baltimore.

So Carey decided it was time for a
change last fall and remodeled the restaurant for six weeks. The result is
Lee’s Pint and Shell (2844 Hudson St., 410-327-2883), named
after Carey’s late father who was a seafood lover and fisherman. This new
version features a raw bar, reclaimed barn wood, vintage seafood posters, and sliding
garage-door windows.

The new menu, still headed by chef Mark Suliga, reflects the nautical feel with a lineup of steamed shrimp, clams, mussels, lobster, and oysters. Patrons will also notice welcome holdovers from Saute including the addictive pulled-duck nachos.

In keeping with its name, the new bar also boasts an impressive beer list, with 18 taps of mostly local beer from RaR, Union, Key, Flying Dog, and Evolution. Other creative additions are thoughtful whiskey flights and a menu of oyster shooters, including everything from tequila to Natty Boh.

Nearly every time we’ve passed
Lee’s since it opened, the place has been packed, a testament to residents
wanting something more casual. And the night we went was no different. Every
bar stool and high-top table was filled, and the din in the room reflected
that. Needless to say, if you want to go out and have a quiet drink, then Lee’s
is not for you.

But the boisterous energy, with music and college football games on the stereo, didn’t phase us as we dug into a dozen Orchard Points—sweet and buttery oysters out of Chestertown. We also tried the pulled-pork fries, an epic mountain of meat with smoked chili barbecue sauce, spicy slaw with poblanos, and Gouda. This might be our new favorite hangover order.

To wash it all down, we were happy that Lee’s had one of our very favorite local beers on tap, the citrusy RaR Nanticoke Nectar IPA. Also of note was the Bourbon ’n’ Cider cocktail, served with ginger beer in a chilled silver mug. And we’ve got to give credit to our server and bartender, both of whom were extremely attentive despite the size of the crowd. Let Lee’s be a lesson to us all—it’s never too late to reinvent yourself.

While Baltimore and the Chesapeake area are often associated with seafood, when you get beyond the crab houses, there are surprisingly few seafood-centric spots. All that changed when Alex Smith and his Atlas Restaurant Group partner, George Aligeorgas, entered the scene. Smith and Aligeorgas clearly have a thing for all the fish in the sea, whether it’s bronzino from the Aegean at Ouzo Bay or Sawagani crabs from Japan’s famed Tsukiji Fish Market at Azumi.

But now the duo is catching closer to home with their latest venture, Loch Bar, which sits on the site of the former LaMill coffee shop in The Four Season’s Baltimore Hotel and sets its sights on Chesapeake seafood, as well as pristine products from all over the East and West coasts and Mexico. A 12-foot raw bar dominates the space and glistens with Maine lobster, Alaskan king crab, mussels, clams, and oysters nestled in some 250 pounds of ice.

While Loch Bar’s bragging rights include the self-proclaimed largest whiskey selection in the state (350 bottles, including a lengthy list of rare offerings such as Laphroaig 32-year-old scotch whiskey), it’s equally focused on haute pub grub.

If Jay Gatsby owned a bar, it might be something along the lines of this luxurious lair. Designer Patrick Sutton, who always astonishes, has given rise to a 1920s-style space that oozes with best-of-everything appeal: burgundy Chesterfield-style leather booths, swirling marble surfaces (culled from a quarry in Vermont that was also used to build some of the Washington, D.C., monuments), shiny brass finishes that offer a nautical nod to the past, and one of the most magnificent plein air patios in the city. Even before the bourbon gave us a glow, we felt glamorous just sitting there. (Know that you’ll need a reservation to snag one of the few coveted booths facing the water.)

The menu is equally decadent. If you’re in the mood to indulge, you can find sky-high shellfish towers (including one for $250), plus both Russian Kaluga ($220 an ounce) and sevruga caviar ($200 an ounce) served with blinis, crème fraîche, and caper berries, as well as oysters from near (the Chesapeake Bay) and far (the Puget Sound). But more affordable options like oysters Rockefeller, moules frites (mussels and fries), and charcuterie and cheese boards are available for nibbling through the night (or at lunchtime or happy hour, as we did on subsequent visits, if you’re so inclined).

While some spots take a while to get started, Loch Bar, open since early April, seems fully formed. On our visits, the bar area thrummed with the young, the well-heeled, and the thirsty. We had no complaints over service, which was eager and efficient and is often the last element to get up to speed in new spots.

Scallop carpaccio: The scallop carpaccio with Meyer lemon and bright green Castelvetrano olives, served in a scallop shell, “cooked” in lemon confit, and topped with a charred spring ramp chimichurri and chili flakes, is a tangy, briny combination that hits different palate points.

Over the course of many hours, we sampled much of the menu, from the tuna and avocado poke (a delicate delight with a boost of bite from soy-ginger dressing and chili oil), to an assortment of shucked-just-right oysters, to lobster poutine (proletariat pub grub getting the Rolls-Royce treatment), and a properly butter-poached lobster roll as good as any I’ve ever eaten in Maine. While the spotlight is on seafood, one of my dining companions insisted on ordering the pastrami, which arrived on thick slices of dark Russian rye. The recipe has become chef Matthew Oetting’s closely guarded secret. It was fantastically fatty and flavorful, and was bolstered by braised cabbage.

Less successful were some of the Maryland standards, including a crab cake (which fell apart and featured not enough seafood seasoning, if any) and a Chesapeake crab dip (which got points for being locally sourced, but deductions for having a paste-like consistency). We suspect that Oetting, whose experience spans chichi eateries from Miami to New York and who is a graduate of Le Cordon Bleu, is still getting a feel for Charm City standards.

To finish the night, we dug into a hefty slab of house-made Smith (no relation to owner Alex) Island cake and felt sated as we watched the boats bob in the dark waters of the harbor.

LOCH BAR 280 International Dr., 443-961-8949.
HOURS Sun.-Tue. 10:30 a.m.-10 p.m., Wed.-Sat. 10:30 a.m.-12 a.m.
CUISINE Regional seafood.
PRICES Appetizers: $6-18; entrees: $19-48; desserts: $8.
ATMOSPHERE Modern oyster bar.

Few things go together better than seafood and summertime in the Land of Pleasant Living. If you’re looking for more than a basic backyard crab feast, check out these six scrumptious events to get your fish fix.

13TH ANNUAL CRABARET
July 9: Gertrude’s, 10 Art Museum Dr. 6:30-10 p.m. $100-125. 410-554-8448. This annual benefit is back with delicious delicacies—everything from traditional crab cakes to Asian-inspired crab lo mein—by noted chef John Shields (see page 57), plus Heavy Seas beer and hopping tunes by the Swingin’ Swamis.

28TH ANNUAL OCEAN CITY TUNA TOURNAMENT
July 10-12: 12940 Inlet Isle Ln., Ocean City. Weigh-ins from 3-7:30 p.m. 410-213-1121. If you prefer to catch your own bounty, head downy ocean to tackle some of the Atlantic’s biggest and best fish. From land, watch the catches come in off the boats and get weighed for cash prizes, with music, food, and drinks on the docks.

TASTE OF CAMBRIDGE CRAB COOK-OFF
July 11: Downtown Cambridge. 5-10 p.m. Free-$30. 443-477-0843. Celebrate the tidewater tradition of crabbing as local restaurants compete to win titles like “Best Crab Cake” and “Best in Show,” followed by live music and family activities in the streets of this historic waterfront town.

POTOMAC JAZZ & SEAFOOD FESTIVAL
July 11: St. Clement’s Island Museum, 38370 Point Breeze Rd., Colton’s Point. 12-9 p.m. Free-$65. 301-769-2222. Head south to St. Mary’s County and get stuffed with rockfish, crab cakes, oysters, and shrimp from local restaurants. While you’re there, listen to lots of live jazz by established musicians like Nick Colionne, Elan Trotman, and Oli Silk.

J. MILLARD TAWES CRAB & CLAM BAKE
July 15: Somers Cove Marina, 715 Broadway, Crisfield. 12-4 p.m. $45. 410-968-2500. Your seafood dreams come true at this all-you-can-eat feast with steamed crabs, fried fish, clams, corn on the cob, watermelon, beer, and more. Named for Maryland’s 54th governor, this annual event attracts thousands of people—nearly double the tiny Eastern Shore town’s entire population!

UNION CRAFT BREWING’S 3RD ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION
July 25: Union Craft Brewing, 1700 Union Ave. 7 p.m. Prices vary. 410-467-0290. Enjoy fresh shucked oysters from The Local Oyster and craft drafts from UCB as the Woodberry brewery celebrates its third birthday with special beers, musical guests, and other local food favorites.

To read more about the local seafood scene, pick up a copy of the July issue of Baltimore magazine, on newsstands now.