The Abdeldayem brothers are in a bit of a daze. It’s mid-March, and the usually high-energy Osama and slightly more subdued Ayman are slumped down in the second-floor break room of their East Baltimore warehouse, next to an overflowing stack of Thrasher magazines.

They’re a few weeks into daily fasts for the month of Ramadan, which at least partially explains the fatigue. But also, they just wrapped a meeting about hiring more staff, are about to head out to shoot a social-media video, and have hundreds and hundreds of cardboard boxes downstairs, filled with thousands and thousands of clothes and accessories waiting to be sorted, packed, and shipped during their next highly anticipated drop for Carpet Company.

“It’s been like, bro, what month are we in?” says Osama, leaning back in an antique armchair, wearing a tie-dye button-up that the brothers co-designed.

“It’s a lot,” agrees Ayman, himself in a bedazzled Spitfire sweatshirt they also dreamed up together. “We were just talking this morning about how to not burn out.”

Yet all of that is not even what’s been occupying most of their time. A few miles west, the up-and-coming streetwear designers have been neck deep in finishing the build-out of their first brick-and-mortar store. Unsurprisingly, there have been delays, dealing with construction and City Hall. But if all goes well with next week’s inspections, they’ll be full blast to opening in early April, at this point less than one month away.

You probably already know the spot—that old bank on the corner of North Avenue and St. Paul Street, in Station North. Outside, once boarded up, covered in graffiti and rust, the circa-1929 Beaux Arts building has been restored to its former glory, a glimpse into the bustling past on one of the city’s historic main drags.

Inside, though, you can see the future, where these two Maryland skaters are about to make their debut as the biggest fashion brand to ever come out of Baltimore.

Through a wall of windows, natural light pours into the white-washed showroom, bouncing between its glossy floor and abundance of chrome, from the sleek shoe racks to the shiny centerpiece pyramid, a nod to their Egyptian heritage. There are big splashes of color, too, like the dozen skateboard decks hanging like modern art, and the old vault transformed into a David Lynchian dressing room, painted cherry red and topped with a DJ booth to hype the inevitable crowd.

Carpet already has its fans. When they dropped their first sneak peek of the shop on Instagram, some 15,000 likes rolled in within 24 hours. “Baltimore’s Louvre,” “eighth wonder of the world,” “unmatched duo,” “let’s GO,” wrote their legions of followers, more than 150,000 on that platform alone.

All that love translates into a deeply loyal clientele. Their collections sell out online in minutes—hoodies, tees, cargo pants, sneakers, going viral for their bold, chic, tongue-in-cheek vibe—purchased by a motley crew of in-the-know cool kids from around the world who wait with bated breath for the brand’s next thing. But the permanence of an IRL store brings up all kinds of new questions, which are enough to rack the brothers’ nerves. Like how many products to stock? Or how many customers will come? And will they like it? Will Baltimore?

“I don’t know, I hope so,” says Ayman with a nervous laugh, locking eyes with Osama.

All signs point to yes.

You could say Carpet Company began by accident. Born in Alabama, Osama and Ayman are the youngest of five sons, all first-generation American. Their Egyptian parents—their dad, a physicist, their mom, an accountant—moved to the Mid-Atlantic when they were in middle school, settling in Prince George’s County, halfway between Baltimore and Washington, D.C.

At first, it wasn’t easy. Landing here right after 9/11, the brothers were bullied for being Muslim. But luckily, they had one hobby that kept them a united front, and consumed every minute of their free time.

“As soon as school let out until we could no longer see our feet at night, it was skateboarding,” says Osama, now 35.

They’d gotten hooked down south, after getting their hands on a classic skate video. Full of city-street shredding and punk-rock music, a hand-me-down tape of Toy Machine’s now-iconic 1996 Welcome to Hell documentary became their first muse. They watched that raw footage over and over, idolizing pros like Brian Anderson. Before long, they convinced their parents to buy them boards from Kmart. Which is how they finally made friends in Maryland, and first paid attention to what people wear.

“It was rare to find another skater in P.G. County, so literally anybody you’d see in a skate shoe, you’d follow them, especially if that shoe was damaged, because that told you they actually skate, and if they did, you could talk for hours,” says Osama. “Shoes were how you connected. They became very empowering for me. They say so much about who you are.”

Skateboarding did, too. At the core, it’s always been more than a sport—a bona fide art form, and means of self-expression. How you approach a trick, how you stick a landing, it’s all about showing off your own individual style. There are no hard rules. Creativity is often lauded over technical skill. And mistakes, not to mention injuries, are inevitable, only pushing you harder. And so it’s no surprise that this scrappy subculture—and its style—would eventually become the definition of cool.

These days, skatewear is everywhere, as likely to be spotted in the everyday outfits of Gen Z as on the runway-ready pages of Vogue. Remember Supreme, the once upstart skate shop with its catchy logo and cult following? It’s now worth $1 billion. And luxury brands want in, too, with Louis Vuitton picking skaters—Virgil Abloh and Pharrell Williams—for its past two creative directors. Last year, a giant skate bowl was erected in the heart of Paris Fashion Week.

“Skateboarding and fashion is a love story for the ages,” wrote GQ at the time. “Fashion’s desire for authenticity, for gritty realness and youthful abandon, has made skateboarding a wellspring of inspiration.”

And throughout the early 2000s, Ayman and Osama witnessed that evolution in their own way. Early on, the brothers wore clothes that felt comfortable to skate in. But at some point, their underground scene collided with the mainstream. Ayman remembers the moment distinctly. In 2006, rapper Lupe Fiasco dropped his hit single, “Kick Push.” “By high school,” he says, “skaters were cool.”

“It was rare to find skaters in P.G. County, so anybody you’d see in a skate shoe, you’d follow them, especially if that shoe was damaged, because that told you they actually skate,” says Osama. “Shoes were how you connected.”

All the while, the brothers’ footwear interest had turned into an outright obsession. At home, they were now collectors, aka “hypebeasts,” pulling every penny to buy not just Vans, but also Nikes and New Balances, sometimes just to flip them at a profit on Facebook so they could cop something better. And that sensibility spread throughout the rest of their closets, and got noticed in their classrooms, too.

For teenagers in the early aughts in their culturally diverse suburb of P.G. County, clothes were the ultimate status symbol. Osama remembers classmates getting kudos for wearing the hot new thing, as well as called out for rocking knockoffs. It was cutthroat, he says. Yet it only deepened their intrigue.

“We were exposed to so many different people, and so many different styles, and we took notes,” says Ayman, now 33, calling those early years in P.G. County the foundation of Carpet’s DNA.

You can see it in their collections today: graphic tees, trucker hats, ball-and-chain jewelry—all so ’90s and Y2K. But back then, starting a fashion brand was not part of the plan.

When not out skateboarding or shopping, Osama and Ayman were inside, buckling down on homework. Their dad was a taskmaster when it came to the kids’ education, enrolling Osama in college classes at 14. He happened to not be a huge fan of their after-school activities, either. In fact, any time their ragtag skater pals came to the house, the old man would make them complete math problems, too.

A bit grudgingly, the brothers attended University of Maryland. Ayman was an I.T. major before dropping out for a job at NASA. Osama graduated with a degree in math, also becoming an engineer. It still feels like a detour, he says, “but it’s also part of why we are where we are today.”

It’s January and Osama and Ayman are walking around the future Carpet store. Drywall dust coats the floor, and brown paper covers the windows, keeping passersby from peeking in. Plenty of finishing touches remain, but they’re meticulously weighing every detail, always making their final decisions together.

“We’re basically the same person,” says Ayman, wearing wide-leg jeans and a Bad Brains T-shirt. “We always had the same everything—same clothes, same style, same friends.”

There are also clear-yet-complementary differences. For instance, Ayman prefers garments that are more crisp, clean, refined. “Bougie,” declares Osama, decked out in camo and Carhartt-style carpenter pants. “Whereas I don’t care if things get dirty. . . . But every single article of clothing is a conversation we have for hours. And while we’ve each got our own ideas, finding that overlap is what makes a good piece.”

Even together, that’s no small feat. For each collection, they start with roughly 1,000 custom designs, sometimes 20 versions of a single shirt. They deliberate over sizes, shapes, colors, materials. There are mood boards and mock ups, with their East Baltimore headquarters regularly stuffed to the gills with samples, temporarily turning their indoor skate ramp into a three-story closet. It takes them about six months to narrow down the looks. Changes are made until the very last minute.

“It’s a lot of work and a slow process—you’re experimenting with so much, playing with so many things, seeing what feels right,” says Osama. “We’re both very particular. Every single piece has to meet so many criteria.”

At the end of the day, the brothers are their own best barometer, leaning into bright colors, cartoon characters, hints of Arabic, and a host of inside jokes—their go-to slogan being “Carpet Sucks”—creating something both defiantly hip and highly approachable.

“We design for us,” says Ayman, and they’ve been trusting that instinct since their first collection—Season One.

In 2015, Carpet was born out of a friend’s grandma’s basement. After slinging skateboards for another brand, they decided to try their own thing. The original dream was making jeans. But shirts were faster, cheaper, easier, so they bought a screen-printing machine off Craigslist and taught themselves how to use it on YouTube. Their first run was 10 tees, just for their fellow skaters. Then they started printing boards, too, which got picked up by local skate shops. Within a year, their DIY looks were going viral. As for the name, it just sounded cool.

“One thing just led to another,” says Ayman. “You learn. You get better. You try new things.”

“Some of the most beautiful pieces we made came from figuring out how to fix something,” says Osama, no formal training necessary. “We found people weren’t really interested in perfection. They wanted something unexpected.”

To level up, they clearly needed more space. In 2019, they moved to Greenmount West and slowly but surely grew by word-of-mouth, luring in their favorite musicians and pro skaters for collaborations. Then in 2021, Nike came calling. It was a project that would change everything. With this iconic sneaker company, Carpet created a powdery blue pair of high-tops, offering an early glimpse into their clever imaginations. Beneath the leather were hidden details, only to be revealed through the literal wear and tear of skateboarding.

With that success, Osama and Ayman quit their jobs and bought the East Baltimore warehouse, their “HQ”—a crumbling laundromat topped with their logo, a C-shaped star. Projects with Vans soon followed, and the Baltimore Orioles, and, of course, local hardcore band Turnstile, with frontman Brendan Yates being a buddy from those College Park skating days.

Last summer, they dropped a collection together at the Good Neighbor Design Garage in Hampden, with fans flowing down Falls Road all day.

“You’re always hungry, always pushing . . . not settling for the same ideas,” said bassist Franz Lyons to the brothers in an interview with indie magazine Living Proof. He wore nearly all Carpet to accept the band’s Grammys earlier this year.

Now, they’re in midst of rolling out their 21st season. Season 22 is already finished, and they’re onto 23. By the end, each season will include more than 100 designs, which will turn into some 20,000 individual pieces, and the brothers are ramping up to release even more.

“Their attitude is if you build it, they will come.”

Beyond the web, they’re stocked worldwide in 70-plus shops, from Los Angeles to London to Hong Kong, including 13 Supreme stores. Screen-printed by hand in Baltimore, the skateboards still come in small batches. It’s a labor-intensive undertaking, and their admitted loss leader, but core to the Carpet identity. For the rest of the lineup—finally including jeans, as well as jackets, bags, boxers, and anything-but-ordinary objects, like branded ashtrays, Nalgenes, Frisbees, dog bowls, and one fez- wearing nutcracker—Ayman and Osama work around the clock with factories overseas.

“Which sucks,” says Osama, thinking about those international calls with China, Pakistan, Turkey, Morocco, Egypt. “Sometimes you’re talking at two or three in the morning, and they’re asking what color you want a stitch to be, and I’m like, bro, at this point, I don’t care.” He pauses, flashes a wicked grin, then quickly adds, “. . .but it has to be yellow.”

If skating gave them creativity, their business skills might be thanks to their parents. Analyzing, multi-tasking, troubleshooting—that could be attributed to those short lived white-collar jobs, and therefore, their dad. (Seeing the hard work, he’s since come around to their unconventional career path.) Their street smarts and ability to stretch a dollar, though, comes from their mom.

“She’s a hustler,” says Ayman. “You can’t waste money—if you buy something, it has to keep its value.” Which was true when the brothers were teens trying to buy shoes.

“She’s like, ‘Are you going to just skate them and destroy them?’” he says, mimicking her Egyptian accent. “And we’re like, ‘No, and we think they’re going to go up in price.’ And she’s like, ‘Hmm, okay. I’ll allow it then.’”

To this day, every Friday night, during family supper, they seek her council for every big move, making her the unofficial consigliere of Carpet. Her no is their no, too. And she must be onto something, given the brand’s strategy is so savvy. They’re masters at building demand, whether that’s online—i.e. their impromptu announcements made with high production value, subversive humor, and the occasional cameo from a local dirt biker or Baltimore Club beat—or in their actual collections, which are limited-edition, meaning most items will never be seen again.

Meanwhile, their prices stay low, giving the next-generation skater kid a shot at snagging something. Sure, their silver necklaces and pony-hair coats are a bit higher, as is their first attempt at furniture—a candy-colored fiberglass stool that looks like a stackable baby toy meets a MoMA sculpture—but most items are less than a hundred bucks. And it should all be gone within an hour.

“Sure, we could sell more,” says Osama. “But making money has never been the goal.”

A few years back, as Carpet started taking off, Osama and Ayman got to plotting their next move. At the time, they wanted to build a skatepark. Then that North Avenue bank went up for sale, and the brothers jumped at the opportunity. Other locations might’ve been fancier, with more foot traffic, but to them, Station North was the sweet spot—a real crossroads of Baltimore. Full of grit and gumption. An underdog, just like them.

“I remember riding through the city years ago with friends like, bro, if we had any money, this building would be ours,” says Osama. “We love this street,” says Ayman.

And it’s good timing. The slow-burning arts district is experiencing a new burst of energy, with the forthcoming redevelopment of the North Avenue Market, recently opened restaurants like Mama Koko’s, and the Inviting Light installations, curated by artist Derrick Adams. The Abdeldayems want Carpet to be a draw for the neighborhood, too, if not the entire city.

For that, the 10,000-square-foot flagship will be more than just retail. In addition to their own clothes, a curated inventory will feature other sought-after brands, including one exciting upcoming shoe collab. And they’re once again teaming up with Good Neighbor, opening an outpost of the design-forward coffee shop in the back, where community can linger over South Asian paratha flatbreads and coffee cups embossed with a metallic Carpet logo. Upstairs, they’ll also eventually open an art gallery, where it’s easy to envision packed openings featuring a who’s who from Baltimore and beyond.

“A lot of people follow in other people’s footsteps, but they’re marching to their own beat, and staying true to Baltimore,” says friend and legendary skate photographer Atiba Jefferson.

“For someone at their level to lay their mark on North Avenue, I think it’s going to be a tipping point,” says Shawn Chopra, owner of Good Neighbor, whose wife is also Egyptian-American and introduced the creatives. “It shows how much they’re committed to this city, and how much their attitude is just, ‘If you build it, they will come.’”

For now, though, Osama and Ayman are staying humble—and despite their bleary eyes, not slowing down. They’re stocking the store, teasing their next drop, and getting their tightknit team ready to send it. Until just over a year ago, they were a two-man operation. Now, they have 18 people on payroll, not to mention all the homies who lend a hand.

“We tell everybody, ‘Yo, you’re gonna work hard, you’re not gonna get paid a lot, but this is a cool thing. If we grow, you grow,’” says Ayman.

They still don’t pay themselves, putting everything they earn back into Carpet, and it’s a point of pride to do it all on their own dime. They want to grow just big enough to hire their own in-house designers. And one day, if all goes well, they might even open another store somewhere—maybe Egypt.

“It’s awesome, and it’s scary, getting bigger and bigger—like man, does this last forever?” says Ayman. “The goal is to just keep building. . . . As far as the future, we’ll see what happens.”

This article first appeared in our May 2026 issue. If you connected with it, consider becoming a print subscriber. 

Art Space is a recurring element in the UpFront section of our print publication that spotlights a local art project making an impact in the city at large. Here’s what’s going on this month:

A distinct sense of style permeates almost all aspects of The Royal Blue, the popular new bar with an old soul in Station North.

It starts with the space, a former club that had a funky feel of its own. While renovating it, co-owner Randy Coffren and his partners tried to preserve as much of the building’s spirit as possible.

“We liked what was here, we actually left one of the murals,” he says. “It was important to us that people come in and can’t tell whether it was redone or if they are walking in [and it’s] 1980.”

Named for a midcentury train (a nod to the bar’s location near Penn Station), The Royal Blue manages to simultaneously appear retro and completely of the moment. Work from local artists hangs on the walls. Beth-Ann Wilson, whose Night Owl Gallery is on the building’s second floor, curates the displays. The contemporary pieces are joined by kitsch like a pay phone and an old-school slot machine that add to the aesthetic.

A large disco ball looms over the dance floor in the back, which is where a deejay spins tunes on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. The rest of the week, loudish music permeates the front bar and small lounge area, above which a neon sign helpfully reads “the party.”

It all makes for a good-time vibe that has been attracting big crowds since the bar opened last Halloween. But as it approaches its first anniversary, it’s clear that there’s plenty of substance behind The Royal Blue’s style.

Coffren and his partners also operate Johnny Rad’s in Fells Point and Highlandtown’s Snake Hill, so they had a distinct vision for the cocktail program here. Coffren
describes it as “’70s-esque.”

Among the most popular drinks is the Fuego Fuego, a twisted take on a traditional Tequila Sunrise. The Royal Blue’s version uses habanero-infused tequila, orange juice, blood orange, and Tajín. The Oaxacan Colada is made with mezcal, coconut rum cream, lime, pineapple, and blue Curaçao. It’s a party in a glass. We wanted to dish out a high five to our bartender after downing a Hi-Five, a refreshing mixture of cucumber vodka, melon liqueur, lime, pineapple, and soda.

Cocktails also flow from taps, including a trendy nitro espresso martini, red sangria, and a house negroni. Plenty of local, craft, and macro brews are available, including Miller Lite for $4. We’re fans of that “retro” pricing.

Devotees of the owners’ other establishments might recognize some of the items on the food menu, including mac and cheese and a vegan BBQ sandwich. Smashburgers are ubiquitous these days, and The Royal Blue’s version holds up to others in the city. In addition to the quality of the meat and the gooeyness of the cheese, the bun is an often-overlooked component of a burger. Not here. The sesame seed variety we had was terrific.

After a fulfilling dinner, we opted for classic nightcaps: Old-Fashioneds. One of the well-made drinks contained a large ice cube in the shape of the letter R. The other had a B. You can even sip the style at The Royal Blue.

In 2017, Alma Cocina Latina owner Irena Stein was meeting with her then-chef Enrique Limardo and a Venezuelan food distributor when an idea began marinating.

“He and Enrique were talking about doing ‘a little something’ with arepa recipes,” recalls Stein, pictured above. “I said, ‘Let’s not do a little thing, why don’t we do a big thing?’”

After the meeting, she did some online research to see what coverage already existed on this popular sandwich-like street food of her home country, and she was surprised to learn that the staple Venezuelan corn cakes, stuffed with myriad fillings, dating as far back as 1,000 B.C., had never exclusively been the star of their own cookbook.

And while her colleagues never did jump on the bandwagon, Stein knew she had stumbled onto something, especially as many millions of Venezuelans were immigrating to other countries—and bringing their culture with them.

After the usual round of publishing rejections faced by first-time writers, Stein landed her first cookbook deal with Ryland Peters & Small, a Britain-based publisher, thanks in part to an introduction by Baltimore plant-enthusiast-turned-author Hilton Carter, whom they also represent.

Five years in the making, Arepa: Classic and Contemporary Recipes for Venezuela’s Daily Bread will be released worldwide on July 18 and distributed across the country by Simon & Schuster. Featuring 50 arepa recipes, from pickled octopus and clam with heart-of-palm salsa to lamb cutlets with yogurt and mint (as well as a few appetizer and dessert recipes from current Alma chef, David Zamudio), it’s the first cookbook of its kind the world over.  (Ahead of its debut, the book has already received national praise—topping Food & Wine’s recent list of the The Best New Summer Cookbooks.)

Writing the book was also a global labor of love. Stein’s publisher was based in London. She hired Venezuelan chef Eduardo Egui, who moved to Barcelona while developing the book’s dishes. Her test kitchen was a friend’s house in Caracas. Not to mention a Spanish translator, based in Miami, who pored over the recipes several times. Photographed entirely by Stein with her own Canon camera, the book introduces her beloved cuisine to the world.

“My memories are my maternal grandmother, Cimodocea de las Mercedes, making arepas,” she says. “She made basic arepas with cheese, but as is the custom, we also ate them with whatever was leftover—chicken, lettuce, tomato, cilantro.”

Fittingly, Stein and her husband, Mark Demshak, will open an arepa bar in Station North, just next door to Alma, shortly after the book is published. And while arepas are long gone from the menu at Alma, the appetite for them looms large.

As local poet and Alma fan Kondwani Fidel writes in the book: “Some foods speak to the soul in ways that words cannot. The arepa is one of them.”

Below, Stein shares two recipes from the book—a simple and delicious cheese arepa, as well as one stuffed with crab salad and yogurt sauce.

AREPA: THE BASIC RECIPE

Receta de la arepa
Makes six arepas

Ingredients:
⋅ 720 ml (24 fl oz/ 3 cups) water, at room temperature
⋅ 2 tbsp vegetable oil
⋅ 2 tsp salt
⋅ A pinch of sugar (optional)
⋅ 350 g (12 oz/ 2½ cups) Harina P.A.N. pre-cooked white maize flour (cornmeal)

Instructions:
In a large mixing bowl or bowl of an electric mixer, combine the water, oil, salt and sugar (if using). Slowly add the Harina P.A.N. pre-cooked maize flour (cornmeal) and mix the dough with your hands or electric mixer on medium speed for at least 10 minutes. The dough must be worked for a full 10 minutes to prevent the arepas from cracking when cooked. Once mixed, the dough should be free of lumps and soft to the touch.

Wet a paper towel or clean dish towel and wring out well. Cover the dough and let it sit for 10 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 230°C (450°F/Gas 8) and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Oil your hands. Pull off 170 g (6 oz.) of dough and form it into a ball. Flatten the ball with your hands, pressing down to form an 11-cm (4-inch) disc that is 2.5 cm (1-inch) thick. Transfer the arepas to the prepared baking sheet and cover with the damp towel. Repeat with the rest of the dough to make 6 arepas, oiling your hands before forming each disc.

Heat a griddle pan over a medium heat and brush the pan with oil. Working in batches, put the arepas on the pan and cook for 5 minutes on each side or until lightly golden. Return the cooked arepas to the lined baking sheet.

Once griddled, put all the arepas directly on the rack of the hot oven. Bake the arepas for 20 minutes, flipping them after 10 minutes. The arepas are cooked when they have puffed up a bit, are brown in spots, and sound hollow when tapped.

Holding a hot arepa with a clean dish towel, cut three quarters of the way through using a serrated knife. Scoop out some of the soft insides to make room for the filling, leaving the crispy top of the arepa and a little of the soft inner. Add your choice of filling and serve immediately.

To Make Cheese Arepa:
Split open an arepa and scoop out some of the soft insides to make room for the filling. Spread both sides of the arepa with butter, then fill with grated (shredded) aged hard cheese (queso de año) and close the arepa.

AREPA WITH CRAB SALAD, TOMATOES AND YOGURT SAUCE

Arepa de ensalada de cangrejo, tomate, salsa de yogurt
Makes six arepas

Ingredients:
For the arepas:
⋅ 1 quantity of basic arepa dough* (see above)

For the crab salad:
⋅ 300 g (10½ oz/2 cups) fresh crab meat (do not use frozen)
⋅ 80 g (2¾ oz/1 cup) finely diced red onion
⋅ 60 g (2 oz/½ cup) finely diced celery
⋅ 20 g (¾ oz/1 tbsp) finely diced sweet red bell pepper
⋅ 2 tbsp finely chopped chives
⋅ 2 tbsp mayonnaise
⋅ 4 tbsp fresh lime juice
⋅ Tabasco red pepper sauce, to taste (optional)

For the roasted tomatoes:
⋅ 400 g (14 oz/2⅔ cups) cherry tomatoes
⋅ 3 tbsp olive oil
⋅ 2 tsp finely diced garlic
⋅ ½ tsp sugar
⋅ 1 tsp salt
⋅ A pinch of black pepper

For the yogurt sauce:
⋅ 240 g (8½ oz/1 cup) strained Greek yogurt
⋅ 50 g (1¾ oz/¼ cup) coarsely grated (shredded) cucumber
⋅ 30 g (1 oz/2 tbsp) finely diced white onion
⋅ 1 tbsp olive oil
⋅ 1 tbsp fresh lime juice
⋅ 1 tbsp Sriracha hot sauce
⋅ 1 tsp finely chopped dill
⋅ 2 tsp salt

Instructions:
To make the roasted tomatoes, preheat the oven to 180°C (350°F/Gas 4). Halve the cherry tomatoes and mix them with all the other ingredients in a bowl. Spread the tomatoes over a baking sheet and roast in the hot oven until they start to dehydrate and turn golden around the edges. Remove from the over and set aside.

To make the sauce, place the yogurt in a muslin cloth and squeeze out as much liquid as possible until it has the consistency of cream cheese. Place the grated (shredded) cucumber in a paper towel and squeeze out as much liquid as possible. Place the strained yogurt and cucumber in a bowl and mix together with all the remaining ingredients. Chill in the fridge until ready to serve.

Following the basic arepa instructions above, shape the dough into 6 arepas and cook them just before serving.

To make the salad, pat dry the crab meat with paper towels. Combine the crab meat with all the diced vegetables and herbs in a bowl. Add the mayonnaise and lime juice to taste. You can also add a couple of dashes of Tabasco red pepper sauce, if you prefer a little spice.

Split open the arepas and scoop out some of their soft insides to make room for the filling. Lay the roasted tomatoes on the bottom half, then add spoonfuls of the crab salad. Drizzle over the yogurt sauce. Serve with lime halves dusted with cayenne pepper for squeezing over.

Stein’s Helpful Hints: 

⋅ For best results it is essential to use Harina P.A.N. pre-cooked maize flour (cornmeal), which is made by cooking, drying and then grinding corn kernels. Each arepa recipe in this book has been tested using Harina P.A.N. and no other brand will yield the same results.

⋅ An arepa needs to be eaten as soon as it comes off the griddle, out of the oven or from the fryer. If you wait more than 15 minutes to serve an arepa once it has been cooked, its texture and taste are far less desirable.

⋅ To prep ahead, shape the dough and griddle the arepas. Leave to cool on a baking sheet. To chill, tightly wrap the entire baking sheet in clingfilm (plastic wrap) to prevent the arepas drying out. Store in the fridge for up to 2 days. To freeze, tightly wrap the griddled arepas in clingfilm (plastic wrap) with parchment paper between them to prevent sticking together. Store in the freezer in an airtight container.

⋅ When needed, thaw the arepas if frozen and bake in a hot oven as usual.

Art Space is a recurring element in the UpFront section of our print publication that spotlights a local artist or project making an impact in the city at large. Here’s what’s going on this month:

In the last several years, Baltimore has been known to adapt and revive unconventional spaces. (See: Ministry of Brewing in Fells Point, a taproom housed inside the 19th-century St. Michael’s Church.) Now, The Parlor, which takes over the Stewart & Mowen funeral home on West North Avenue, follows that trend, as a multipurpose hangout for creative types. Already, the venue, which will function as a meeting space and speakeasy with artists’ studios above it, has hosted its first exhibition, Memento Mori, an homage to Baltimore’s dearly departed. This month, the folks at Standing Ovation Vintage are hosting a prolonged pop-up marketplace in the space—in which thrifters can browse furniture, decor, books, and clothing from a handful of local purveyors.

It’s a late afternoon in August, and there’s a cluster of people on the sidewalk fronting the little theater and restaurant row in Station North that’s home to The Charles Theatre and an abundance of great restaurant options, including Alma Cocina Latina, Foraged, Sofi’s Crepes—and Tapas Teatro, which, after 21 years, has the most enduring presence of them all.

Promptly at 5 p.m., the crowd disappears through its doors. Although there’s both a Jordan Peele flick and a John Waters retrospective playing at The Charles, it’s the tapas that draw people, consistently, hungrily, for the more than two decades since the Karzai family first opened their small plates Spanish restaurant.

Inside Tapas Teatro, dusky purple walls arch into a high-ceilinged room, illuminated with Gutierrez Studios lights and sconces, next to a busy open kitchen. A dining room showcases century-old brick walls and art (an Iberian pig foraging for acorns; the silhouette of a bull) reflecting the Spanish theme of the menu—by most accounts, the first tapas restaurant in Baltimore.

The building is part of The Charles, the oldest theater in the city, a Beaux-Arts structure designed in 1892 as a trolley barn. A back room showcases a massive bar, a long wooden community table, and benches featuring Andalusian arches. Soon it seems like nearly every table, both inside and out on the sidewalk and pandemic-expanded patio, is filled with people attentive to plates of boquerones (marinated white anchovies), croquetas built of potatoes and cheese, the sauced lamb meatballs called albondigas, bowls of gazpacho, grilled octopus doused with romesco sauce, and glasses filled from the extensive Spanish wine list.

“When we first opened, we had Spanish influences, but becoming more authentic was a process, as I started going to Spain,” says Helmand Karzai, 43, whose family also owns The Helmand, the excellent 32-year-old Afghan restaurant on N. Charles Street. (Yes, Helmand’s parents, Pat and Qayum Karzai, named the restaurant after him; it’s also the name of an important province and river in Afghanistan, where the family is from.) Karzai had been involved in Tapas Teatro from the outset, but gradually stepped front and center as he became more interested in Spanish wines and his parents moved away from the day-to-day operations to the administrative side.

“I started taking over the wine-ordering, which means the wine-tasting, and I really got into wine.” Karzai attended the wine program at The French Culinary Institute (now the International Culinary Center) in New York City and spent more and more time traveling to Spain, particularly rural Catalonia and the wine regions of Priorat and Montsant.

“Spain had a moment in the early 2000s, [likely] because of Ferran Adrià,” says Karzai, referencing the Spanish chef who ran El Bulli in Catalonia, which was for years considered the best restaurant in the world.

This moment happily coincided with the then-newly opened tapas restaurant. Serving tapas just made sense, as Karzai’s father loved the cuisine and the small-plates model—this was years before small plates became the trendy thing they are now was perfectly tailored for moviegoers.

“Hey, we’re connected to a movie theater,” says Karzai. “What gets people in and out? It matches so well.” And it doesn’t hurt that the restaurant shares The Charles’ liquor license, which means that you can take the signature jugs of sangria inside the theater.

The Karzai family had other ventures, the now-closed Pen & Quill and B. Bistro, “but this has always been where my heart is,” says Karzai.

Between the carefully selected bottles of Pedro Ximénez and Axta Patcharan, the long list of Idiazábal and Manchego cheeses, and the ribbon-y mounds of jamón Serrano and Ibérico de Bellota on the menu, you can tell. The staff is made up of as many longtimers as the clientele, with some cooks having worked for a decade or more behind the stoves, a rarity these days.

That familiarity—and the dexterity that comes with it—shows in the plates of three of the best tapas: a terrific iteration of gambas al ajillo, perfectly cooked shrimp in olive oil and garlic, served with discs of baguette, a classic dish that’s been on the menu since the restaurant opened; papas bravas, fried potatoes paired with a zippy aioli; and the chile rellenos, roasted piquillo peppers stuffed with melted, aged Idiazábal. The dish is deceptively simple—just bold, salty cheese oozing from the peppers’ tender, bright-scarlet casing—but it’s alarmingly good.

And then there’s the one big plate on the menu—that’s the paella—something to order if you’ve already seen your movie, or you’ve skipped the showing altogether because you’ve been distracted by the impressive gin-and-tonic list. It’s an old-school offering, with seafood, chicken, and chorizo embedded within saffron-painted Calaspara rice and a verdant handful of fresh peas. It is undeniably delicious—and comforting as a bag of movie popcorn.

Like seemingly every city inhabited by people who love beer—which is to say just about every city everywhere—Baltimore is in the midst of a brewery boom. The newest addition to the lager lineup, Guilford Hall Brewery in Station North, opened in May, hoping to add a traditional European flavor to the scene.

Housed in the old Crown Cork & Seal building, the brewery is a sprawling space that includes a bar, beer hall, and outdoor beer garden. Co-owner Richard Craft and his business partners Stefan Popescu and Karl Nunn have owned the 19th-century building since 2014. While showing it to prospective buyers, more than one discussed opening a brewery there. In the end, they decided to tap that idea themselves (pun intended) and spent several years renovating it. After a national search, they hired brew master Martin Coad, formerly of Greenstar Brewing in Chicago. He’s created a core of beers inspired by European brewing traditions.

“We wanted to pull from the different specialties around Europe so you can have that cultural experience, because Baltimore is a cultural melting pot,” Craft says. “We import hops from Europe so we can stick by the traditional taste and styles and get back to the roots of why beer was made by monks in the first place.”

In contrast to many of the city’s other breweries, which gravitate toward hoppier varieties like West Coast and hazy IPAs, most of Guilford’s offerings are on the lighter side. The Guilford Lager is a refreshing, easy-drinking German helles. Also routinely available: a marzen, hefeweizen, Vienna lager, Czech-style pilsner, British pale ale, Irish stout, and a Belgian golden ale. Rotating seasonals and a weekly gravity cask offering round out the menu.

On a recent visit, we tried the English session ale, dry-hopped with East Kent Goldings hops, which hit the spot. A flight of six samplers costs $12 and is a great way to drink your way around Europe (without leaving Station North). The food menu sticks with the European theme, offering classic pub fare like fish and chips, bangers and mash, and schnitzels. Some of the eats, like a giant pretzel with beer cheese, the deviled eggs topped with bacon, and a juicy, clearly made-to-order burger, work better than others. (The flatbreads we tried fell flat.)

Like so many businesses in the hospitality sector, Guilford has struggled with its staffing, and that sometimes shows in disorganized service. But even amid these minor struggles, every server we encountered was friendly and determined to correct a mistake.

Craft has big plans for the brewery, which include staging live music and hosting private and community events. For now, there’s a daily happy hour, a weekend brunch, and, most importantly, plenty of good beer.

In Baltimore, we can’t seem to get enough of that.

Back in 2002, when Irena Stein first opened Café Azafrán inside the Space Telescope Science Institute at Johns Hopkins, her initial idea was to run a tiny venture with a handful of seats for the astrophysicists and astronomers who stopped by for a taste of her global cooking.

But the lunchtime specials, particularly the stuffed corn sandwiches known as arepas, were such a hit that Stein soon found herself feeding the campus at large and drawing fans from the entire Baltimore community.

“When I first opened the cafe, I thought, ‘We will have like four tables and it will be so cute,’” she recalls. “But small never works for me.”

Eventually, Azafrán launched Alma in Canton, originally imagined as a simple arepa bar and inspired by the imploring scientists she was serving.

“I always say that astronomers are these shy people,” says Stein, with a laugh. “But when we had arepas they were not shy! They were so enthusiastic and always asking me, ‘When are you going to open an arepa bar?’”

Equally enthusiastic was Mark Demshak, then Director of Architecture and Planning at Hopkins Homewood campus, who first became enchanted by Stein’s homemade chili—and in no time, by Irena herself.

“Irena makes this incredible chili,” says Demshak. “I kept going back for the chili—then I kept going back for Irena.”

Soon, Stein and Demshak, who married in 2012, opened Alma in Canton, but at 4,000 square feet, the space was much larger than originally conceived. “Our arepa bar,” she says, “became an entire Venezuelan restaurant.”

Nine years into owning Alma—one of the few Venezuelan restaurants in the country—Stein and Demshak have continued to expand their restaurant and their reach.

When the pandemic struck Baltimore and restaurants closed down due to COVID on March 16 of last year, Stein and Demshak joined forces with Mera Kitchen Collective, a community kitchen. The partnership has allowed Stein and Demshak not only to feed a community in need but help their employees (many of whom did not qualify for unemployment due to their work visas) stay afloat.

“Irena doesn’t wait around for things,” says Demshak. “I take time to simmer like a stew. Irena is more like a stir fry. She jumps in, she jumps out.” At the outset, says Stein, “we delivered hundreds of meals a day.”

ALMA’S DINING ROOM IS A PLANT-FILLED PARADISE THAT EVOKES THE EQUATOR.

To date, thanks to a partnership with Jose Andres’ World Central Kitchen (in addition to individual gifts and grants), and a newly named venture with Mera called Alkimiah (inspired by the word for alchemy in Arabic and Spanish), they’ve served more than 120,000 healthy meals—“no different than the ones people pay for,” says Demshak with pride—to Baltimore neighborhoods in need.

It’s a model that’s enabled Alkimiah to succeed, helping to defray costs of running the business, including paying their staff a living wage with the grant money they’ve received for meals from World Central Kitchen.

As for Alma, in September, the restaurant expanded again. Stein and Demshak outgrew their Canton kitchen and were looking for a new location big enough to work in a shared space with Mera’s crew. They settled on the 5,300-square-foot spot inside the former Pen & Quill space in Station North, with its oversized windows, long marble bar, and proximity to Tapas Teatro, Orto, and The Charles and Parkway theaters that comprise a mini restaurant row in a cultural pocket of the city.

As you enter, there’s a welcoming foyer that brings to mind a Venezuelan home with its Spanish Colonial blue tile floor and guava color palette. It’s the perfect entrée to the dining room, a plant-filled paradise that evokes the equator and boasts street art that feels right at home in this designated arts district.

One Thursday in early spring, Venezuelan-born executive chef David Zamudio, who worked on a six-star cruise ship and apprenticed at several Michelin-starred spots in Mexico and Spain, readies for dinner service. His kitchen functions as two operations. In the morning, meals for Alkimiah are made, packed, and delivered. By midday, the space is transformed into Alma’s kitchen.

On this spring afternoon, Zamudio is creating a new bar menu with tapas (Latin gyozas filled with plantains and cheese is one palate pleaser), plus new arepas, including a heavenly version with baby octopus and shrimp. There’s also an outstanding red snapper ceviche, a rich squash soup appetizer, and a showstopping paella.

The dishes explode with unexpected flavors like passionfruit tahini sauce drizzled on an arepa stuffed with lentil fritters or wagyu prime ribeye with avocado-cilantro sauce that brings an almost Caribbean flair to the cooking. Zamudio, 27, once dreamed of becoming a pilot so he could travel the world. Instead, lucky for us, he attended culinary school on Margarita Island, off the coast of Venezuela.

Now, with his help, Stein and Demshak are clearly flying high.

ALMA COCINA LATINA 1701 N. Charles St. 667-212-4273. HOURS: Tues.-Sat. 5-8 p.m. PRICES: Appetizers: $10-17; arepas: $15-20; mains: $25-60; desserts: $7-10. AMBIANCE: Tropical sophistication.

Sandra Gibson was in the midst of planning the 2020 Maryland Film Festival when the pandemic hit. Her team ultimately moved the whole thing online, but at the time, she had no idea that the 2021 festival (from May 19-27) would also have to go virtual. On the plus side, this unusual year has given her lots of time to reimagine the Parkway Theatre and its role in both the Station North community and all of Baltimore.

First of all, how did last year’s virtual fest go?
For a bootstrap thing, we think it went extraordinarily well. It was a brand-new platform. We were inventing as we went. We had 17 feature films. 150 filmmakers. 15 blocks of shorts. [We had] world, North American, and Baltimore premieres. We had a few thousand people participate. All 50 states. We hadn’t had that kind of participation before, so the reach was greatly expanded.

What made you decide to go virtual again this year?
It was an agonizing decision. We just didn’t believe it would be safe enough, that audiences would be comfortable enough, or that we’d actually be able to open at enough of a capacity to have the festival in-person. Plus, the Maryland Institute College of Art told us they weren’t inviting anyone onto their campus, and we use their facilities, so that sort of made the decision for us.

But it will still be a great festival. You have to create the excitement differently. We’re adding family programming. We’re looking for spaces to do drive-in screenings. There will be more in-depth conversations. There will be surprises. I don’t have the [full] lineup yet, but we’ll probably have 32 events like we did last year, and we’ve extended it through the 27th for extra viewing time. It’s a lot to go through. But you can actually watch everything in nine days, if you’re truly committed.

You’re in the midst of making a lot of changes to the Parkway, too.
The plan is to fully activate the entire building—really set it up to do exhibitions, installations, small public art pieces. Things that provide extra context and give people a reason to drop by. We’re trying to be more community responsive, more socially engaged. We’ve sort of coined this as “art house plus”—the best of art house, the best of a contemporary art museum. We’re going to be launching a center for moving image. We’ll still have our theatrical releases, but it’s going to be plussed up in a way that is not only inviting but fits our community.

How do you make the Parkway a place where everyone feels at home year-round?
It all comes down to community programming. How do we build programs that feature the themes and ideas that matter to the people that live in our area? You have to be in the community. You have to be conversant and interested in where the community’s at, and support the community in its effort, its demands, its needs, and its growth and evolution. That work takes time. We’re starting to get on that path. We’re building a community advisory panel. [Filmmaker] Radha Blank said it best—we were premiering an episode of Netflix’s She’s Gotta Have It that hadn’t been released yet, and she got up and said, “The Parkway is my birthright.” If you don’t feel comfortable here, make it your own. You have to do that. This place belongs to you.

EAT

Aug. 29: The Salad Lady Pop-Up

Don’t Know Tavern, 1453 Light St. 11 a.m.-4 p.m. Free.

All summer long, Don’t Know Tavern has been hosting a rotating cast of local eateries for its community pop-up series, but this weekend’s guest chef might be the one to beat. A true staple of the JFX Farmers Market, The Salad Lady will spend Saturday afternoon slinging her homemade seafood, chicken, and whitefish salads out of the Federal Hill spot for hungry bargoers and loyal followers alike. The Salad Lady is known for selling out of everything fast—including the stand’s signature egg and potato salads—so make your lunch plans accordingly.

DRINK

Aug. 28: End of Summer Hawaiian Luau

Old Line Spirits, 200 S. Janey St. 6-9 p.m. Free.

This Friday, Old Line Spirits is throwing a Hawaiian luau in honor of all of the tropical vacations and beach trips not taken during this unprecedented summer. Don your best Jimmy Buffet-inspired attire and head to the Highlandtown distillery for a night of tiki cocktails and fusion barbeque eats from local eatery Jurassic Pork. Pro tip: There is an admission cap to maintain safe social distancing, so get to the luau early to guarantee a Mai Tai or two.

SEE

Aug. 28-30: Mural Art Tour

Milk & Honey Market, 10 E. Lanvale St. Fri. 9-11 a.m., Sat. 9-11 a.m. & 4-6 p.m., Sun. 9-11 a.m. Free.

While many local museums and galleries are still closed due to the coronavirus, there’s plenty of artwork to see around every corner in Charm City. Thanks to mural art tours hosted by the Miller Productions team, residents and visitors can explore more than 60 artistic points of interest around the Station North Arts District on foot. Meet up with the guides at Milk & Honey Market and then set off on a two-hour adventure, featuring awe-inspiring works by artists from near and far.

HEAR

Aug. 29: Draughts & Laughs 4

Checkerspot Brewing Company, 1399 S. Sharp St. 7-10 p.m. $12-15.

Let’s face it: We could all use some more laughs and craft beer to get through the rest of 2020. Luckily, Checkerspot Brewing Company is hosting a physically distanced comedy night to give Baltimoreans just that. This Friday, visit the South Baltimore brewery for a “tailgate-style” show featuring local comedy acts such as Tommy Sinbazo, Erik Woodworth, and Theresa L. Concepcion, as well as plenty of gourmet snacks and brews to go around. Be sure to bring your own seating and tables to this pull-up event, and enjoy a night of live laughs among neighbors.

DO

Aug. 29: Baltimore Bookstore Crawl

Locations vary. 9 a.m.-8 p.m. Free.

This Saturday marks National Independent Bookstore Day, giving bookworms everywhere the perfect excuse to support local shops and pick out new reads. Whether you plan to celebrate by purchasing books virtually or in-store, Baltimore shops such as Greedy Reads, Atomic Books, and Charm City Books will be happy to take your order. Be sure to check out each store’s safe browsing protocols ahead of your visit, and tag #BmoreBookstoreDay on social media for a chance to win a bookish prize.

On March 16, when Orto owner Elan Kotz learned that bars and restaurants would be closing with the exception of carryout and delivery, he was on-site working at his new project to bring back The Dizz in Remington.

“When we got the news, we immediately had to pivot into, ‘What were we going to do at Orto?’” says Kotz. “That Monday, I got with the team and my brand new executive chef, Chris Audia, and I just decided, ‘Let’s do this thing.’ He and I ran the phones and he cooked and packaged every meal for our first carryout—and it was a great night. It was a very humbling and beautiful experience. It was really hard work, but it was satisfying to know that we were still able to feed our guests.”

Kotz is confident that diners will be ever eager to eat out once restaurants reopen. “Whether your restaurant is big, medium-sized, or small, every restaurant has a soul and a heart,” he says, “and guests who have become family will come back to support them.”

How are you?
I’m doing well. Every day is a new adventure. Each day presents its own challenges, but at the same time, I am super grateful that we are able to feed our guests and provide work for a portion of our team.

It seems like you’ve mastered the carryout format—I’ve had it myself and it’s excellent. You’ve told me that you even have “carryout regulars.” Why do you think you’ve been so successful?
I really attribute a lot of the success of this to our team. Chris Audia, our sous chef Kris Calivo, and our pastry chef Theresa Louis—Chris Audia’s wife. My GM and I focused on the front-of-the-house logistics and packaging. For us, the most important part was sticking to our guns and cooking the food that we’ve always cooked. We offer a chicken parm family meal to make people feel comforted and warm them up, but we’re also still offering the dishes we love to provide to our guests. We are just cooking what we know, and the response has been incredible.

“Orto is a very small, intimate space that feels really cozy, but are people going to want to sit close to each other? When are we going to be able to do that? What does the timeline look like? Those question marks are why it’s been really hard to make any sort of a real plan.” —Elan Kotz

Tell me more about your new chef.
Chris was our opening sous chef and he went to Chez Hugo for a little while. He and Theresa, who was also at Chez Hugo, started back with us on March 4. We had one week of solid time working together, and then they were confronted with the challenge of the global pandemic—they’ve handled it beautifully.

How are your revenues?
Our revenue is down about 50 percent now from where we were because we’ve moved to a five-day week. The weekdays have been inconsistent, but weekends are holding us up. We reduced our labor and are mindful about purchasing. We’ve been able to make it work—some weeks we were able to break even. In the beginning there were some hard weeks, but we’ve really hit a good rhythm.

What has it been like to be in the space without most of your staff and no guests?
Every day is different. March 17th was one of the hardest days of my life and career. I had to lay off a large portion of our staff and that was a really, really tough day for me.

It took us a while to readjust all lights, which are on automatic settings and dim throughout the evening. The first time the lights dimmed on that Tuesday, March 17th at 10 of five, letting us know that we were five minutes out from opening, it was an incredibly emotional thing for all of us. And then, that first Saturday night being in that space, the same space that we’ve served so many incredible people and made memories and had this beautiful food on the table, it was 8:15 p.m. and we had pushed out all of our catering. We didn’t have any more orders—I looked at everyone and was like, ‘This would be our biggest push right now.’

“The first time the lights dimmed on that Tuesday, March 17th at 10 of five, letting us know that we were five minutes out from opening, it was an incredibly emotional thing for all of us.” —Elan Kotz

What do you recommend for first timers taking out?
The chicken Parm dinner has been a hit for tons of guests. It’s served over house-made rigatoni with garlic buns that Theresa makes, a Caesar salad, and a revolving dessert. For two people, it’s $40. We are trying to deliver value, as well as comfort. Also, we have revolving batch cocktails. My go-to is a black Manhattan that we do with an Averna Amaro instead of the vermouth. We also just added little after-dinner drinks—three ounce pours of house-made limoncello orangecello, and grapefruit pompicello—which have always been part of our experience here. We’re also adding a cheese and salumi plate and a grilled swordfish loin with fregola and mussels.

How does your chef stay inspired?
We did have to turn into a carryout model overnight. We are joking internally that when we get through this thing, we are going to wear matching track suits and get patches that say, ‘1,000 chicken Parms served!’ It’s delicious, but it’s not the most technical thing to make. Chef is still inspired to cook seasonally, seeing the ingredients that have been available and getting inspired from there. Last week we rolled out a new lamb sugo pasta dish.

What’s happening with your project to bring The Dizz back in Remington?
In this current climate, I did just put it on hold. I started the project 11 days before the coronavirus hit. For now, I am slowly picking it up, but I don’t have a sense of a timeline yet. In the first 11 days of working there, we got everything off the walls and started cleaning.

What will the culinary landscape look like when the pandemic is over?

I don’t think any of us know what this looks like on the other side. Every restaurant is unique. Orto is a very small space and it’s intimate and feels really cozy, but are people going to want to sit close to each other? When are we going to be able to do that? What does the timeline look like? What does the rollout look like? Those question marks are why it’s been really hard to make any sort of a real plan. We’re taking it day by day, week by week.

I don’t think it’s going to go right back to what it was at all for a while, and I do think restaurants will have to continue to do carryout as part of their regular offerings just to ensure that they are making it work and making ends meet. I want to do a hybrid restaurant once we are able to.

“We cannot wait to serve people back at a restaurant table—that will be one of the very best days.” —Elan Kotz

What changes do you think will happen as a result of the pandemic?
I know there will be changes as it pertains to how people want to be served. There will be touchless bathrooms and a forever focus on everything cleanliness, which we’ve always done, but now it has to be even more visible and transparent for the comfort level of our guests. I believe we will still have restaurants to eat out in, although things might change a bit—they will have to for a while. But can we tell what the future holds? Absolutely not. Is there a chance that we have to pivot again? Maybe. Some iconic restaurants may never reopen.

There’s also a massive cost associated with a restaurant reopening. You have to restock everything. A lot of it will come down to the diner and their comfort level and ability. There’s also an economic implication. People need to have the money to eat out. I’m hopeful. I’m an eternal optimist. I know this will be just fine and we will get to the other side and be stronger for it. And hopefully a lot more grateful.

Why do restaurants matter?
Restaurants matter for multiple reasons. They’re a place where people who love to give and nourish can work, whether they’re a bartender, a cook, or a dishwasher. There’s this built-in feeling of giving to people when they come in and dine here. It’s a social gathering—people love to connect over food. Food memories are made in restaurants over birthdays and special occasions, but eating out is also a thing to do when you’ve had a hard day at work and don’t want to go home and cook something. Also, for me, we employ so many incredible human beings who’ve built their careers and spent their lives in restaurants, and they matter because we have to make sure that all these people have somewhere to go on the other side of this thing. We cannot wait to serve people back at a restaurant table—that will be one of the very best days.

From the get-go—when it opened in late 2018—Baltimoreans have known that the tiny Le Comptoir du Vin in Station North, with its homey French classics and some 34 seats, was something special. But last year, when Bon Appetit named the boîte one of the Best New Restaurants in America (followed by a shout-out in Esquire as the “sexiest third-date spot in America”), co-owner couple Rosemary Liss and Will Mester found themselves in the center of a feeding frenzy, and scoring a table became something of a sport.

Now, with their normal operations shut down, the pandemic has given the duo a chance to regroup, reflect, and even open an online bottle shop featuring their natural wines. Plus, they’re offering a rotating menu of items including their signature lentils and silken pâté for carryout.

“What’s happening now is terrible,” says Mester, “and we want to get back to real life, but this feels like a sabbatical.” Adds Liss: “It has been wild for sure. We are feeling lucky because we had that year—it gives us support now. It has also given us a chance to catch our breath, so there is a silver lining.”

How did you come up with your new business model of running an online bottle shop?
Rosemary Liss: Waking up every morning in panic mode, you have to try to utilize that energy into something. We were starting to see restaurants, especially in New York, doing carryout models specifically with wine, so setting up a bottle shop online was our first step. We weren’t sure we were comfortable selling food at the time.

What did it take to set up the site?
RL: I spent the first three days learning how to use the Squarespace e-commerce platform, cataloging and photographing all of our wine, and putting our inventory online—that saved us. It gave us a chance to take a second and step back to reflect, but also keep paying our bills. Because we’d been so busy, we ordered a ton of wine. We were were sitting on 1,000 bottles at one point, so I was like, ‘Let’s just keep it moving,’ and people were excited to stock up for the impending quarantine and also support us.

I spent the first three days learning how to use the Squarespace e-commerce platform, cataloging and photographing all of our wine, and putting our inventory online—that saved us. —Rosemary Liss

What about menu items?
RL: We have added food, but we’re keeping it really minimal for safety. Our menu is so small based on our space, so we rotate through things.

Will Mester: We make a stew every week that tends to revolve around what heirloom beans I can get, which are really hard to come by right now. Basically, I go to various groceries, raid their shelves, and then use a seasonal ingredient or two. On a whim, I put pozole on the menu, which is completely uncharacteristic of something that would be on our menu food-wise, but it’s a time to just experiment a little bit and not be so on brand. I really do cook with what I want to cook. The restaurant is just a reflection of our personalities and we are not trying to be so rigid. In this context, it comes naturally to just do things that we don’t typically do.

RL: We also have to think about what we can package that will be enjoyable for people to eat in their own home and reheat so it feels fresh and delicious when they sit down to eat it. Originally, we were trying to work with what we had in stock and trying not to spend anything, if possible.

How are things working for you revenue-wise?
RL: In April, we had a little bit of a loss because we were paying off vendors from more robust times, but it was very minimal. Luckily, we had a little bit of support savings. I’m hoping now, because we’ve been really steady, that we can stay even. I feel like the fear of waking up every morning and being like, ‘Are we going to survive this?’ has passed. I try to channel it into these projects. But then there’s always the fear that people are going to stop spending money. Things are going well, and we have consistent business, but will that last?

There’s always the fear that people are going to stop spending money. Things are going well, and we have consistent business, but will that last? —Rosemary Liss

I know you were booked for months prior to the pandemic and heard through the grapevine that you wrote a personal note to patrons whose reservations had to be canceled.
RL: Resy has been phenomenal through all of this and they waived all fees through next December. They cancelled everything for us, but I wanted to send a personal note, so I was able to pull that entire list of people who had reservations through the following month and email everyone to say they will be the first to know when we reopen. When we reopen the books, they get first dibs. It was 300 people. It was for 30 days of reservations starting March 16, which is when we had to close.

That’s such a lovely gesture.
RL: I think its really important right now. We are all struggling. I want people to know that we are still thinking about everyone we care about. From the start, something that was important to us was creating a space that was really convivial and we were there all the time interacting with customers. For those of us in the restaurant world, that’s the most important thing—making it feel like home.

WM: It’s important to have some kind of connection with your guests.

Have you thought about what it might look like when you reopen? Le Comptoir is tiny…how will social distancing work in such a small space?
RL: They were saying that restaurants might open at 25 percent capacity. If we open at 25 percent, there would be like five people in there—it’s not worth it for us to run a restaurant. We can do more carryout than have people dine with us. We’ve played around with some ideas and have to see how things have unfolded in other states. We’re starting to pay attention to see what works and what doesn’t. We are taking it slowly, day by day, re-evaluating things constantly, and not making any rash decisions right now.

Food on some level can only be so interesting, but when you put it in the context of sitting in the restaurant and having that experience, it’s special. —Will Mester

What’s it like to be in the space without the hustle and bustle of the dining room?
WM: In many ways, it’s not all that different from just a typical prep day. For me, it feels just like you’re preparing for a private event.

RL: I have been enjoying the aspect of it feeling like you’re running a little shop, photographing everything, setting everything up, getting the orders together. In some ways, there’s less stress not preparing for a really busy dinner.

Will you have carryout when you reopen?
WM: Carryout is not really our M.O.

RL: It’s just a necessity right now, but it doesn’t ever fully replicate the experience of sitting down in the restaurant and enjoying the food Will makes.

WM: Food on some level can only be so interesting, but when you put it in the context of sitting in the restaurant and having that experience, it’s special.

From the start, something that was important to us was creating a space that was really convivial and we were there all the time interacting with customers. For those of us in the restaurant world, that’s the most important thing—making it feel like home. —Rosemary Liss

What are doing with your free time?
RL: For the first time since we opened the restaurant, we are sitting down to dinner.

WM: The first week was almost surreal to have the kind of energy to really cook well at home. We do a lot of cooking at home, but our free time is so limited, we don’t want to spend hours in the kitchen at home. The first week or two that we were here, we were just making good food and sitting down at the dining room table. It was really weird—now it feels normal. I’ve been really getting into baking, making pizza, and food projects that would be daunting or just seem like I wouldn’t have the time for otherwise—that has been incredible.

What kinds of things have you made?
WM: I got this really nice steak from John Brown—a strip steak with some really garlicky rosemary potatoes and some speck at the very end to season the steak with. It was one of the less complicated meals to put together. We also took the legs and thighs off a chicken carcass and rubbed the chicken down with an herb marinade. Then we put the speck underneath the chicken skin to make a sauce. There’s been a lot of really good cooking at the house.

RL: Sometimes we just eat chips and guac, though.

I’ve been doing more yoga, reading for pleasure, going to the shop. I’m getting into art projects that fell by the wayside and doing some kitchen stuff with Will like learning how to de-bone a chicken.

WM: We are just lucky with how small the restaurant is and how manageable it has been. Rosemary is working really hard right now getting the website together and dealing with daily operation there. But there has been of lot of new energy being developed. When we get back, all of this is going to work its way into how the restaurant operates. It will be a little bit of a new Comptoir, maybe only noticeable to us.

There’s going to be a lot of restaurants that close and a lot of restaurants that we love to go to that are really underrepresented, and that’s really sad. But restaurants are too old, they are too important, they will survive and things will get back. —Will Mester

Why do restaurants matter?
WM: At the end of the day, I’m extremely optimistic about restaurants. There’s going to be a lot of restaurants that close and a lot of restaurants that we love to go to that are really underrepresented, and that’s really sad. But restaurants are too old, they are too important, they will survive and things will get back.

A lot of people in this country are talking about what’s going to happen to restaurants. David Chang thinks that food is going to revert back to the ’80s or ’90s when there weren’t as many options and big chains running things, but I can’t imagine that people in Paris are wondering about the fate of their restaurant culture. It’s so tied into everyday life. It’s the fabric of those cities and they are just as important here. People have to go to restaurants. People have to go out, they have to socialize. Restaurants provide that space. This is what cities are all about. Without them you’re just a prisoner of your own life.

What about in Baltimore?
WM: It’s going to be stronger—absolutely going to be stronger—that often happens in times of adversity. Restaurants will survive.

What are you looking forward to when Le Comptoir reopens?
WM: I’m looking forward to having everyone back in the restaurant, from working to get ready for service and seeing the space come to life to cleaning down the kitchen at 10 o’ clock and going over to Pen & Quill to have a beer.

RL: I have a hard time not working. I do a bad job at self-care, but I’ve been implementing new systems in my life since we’ve been closed. I hope to create better boundaries so I can be a better boss and more sustainable in my job when we reopen. But I also look forward to seeing the whole dining room filled with candles, especially in the fall when it gets a little bit darker and when everyone walks in. It’s so cozy and beautiful when the space is all lit up.

Historically, there haven’t been many places in Baltimore to get burger, beer, and a nostalgia-fueled fix of arcade games under one roof. But now, thanks to North Ave. Market, that is about to change.

“It’s a giant nostalgia space,” says Matthew Steinberg of Secret Sauce Co., who runs the Station North spot’s food and beverage program with business partner and chef Vaughn Weitzman of the Farm to Charm food truck. “We have the ’70s and ’80s vibe and classic ’50s diner-style burger menu.”

Though the space has been used for various community events since July, it officially opened to the public this week with daily lunch and dinner service from 11 a.m.-11 p.m. At North Ave. Market, the Secret Sauce team serves the same classic and vegan burgers, hand-cut fries, and milkshakes (think flavors like chocolate, strawberry, and matcha) that they featured at an extended pop-up at Lost City diner a few months back. Of course, there is also plenty of the brand’s artisan sauces for sampling.

Pending liquor board approval—a hearing is scheduled for December 6—the spot will also feature arcade-inspired cocktails such as the “8-Bit,” (whiskey, amaro, honey, and lemon) and the “Disco Lemonade,” an elevated take on a vodka cranberry.

Steinberg and Weitzman first got in touch with the building’s co-owner, Michael Shecter, during the time they were operating the Lost City pop-up. Schecter approached them with the concept and they were enticed by the prospect. The property is another in a slew of refurbished historic buildings across the city being brought back to life for a new concept. Dating back to 1927, North Ave. Market started as a bowling alley with 12 retail shops before later being converted to the home of a confederate general.

Together, the team envisioned a gathering space where people could come after work for a drink and a good burger. Those in charge are presenting the arcade as an alternative to simply sitting down at a bar. “It’s a way for people to connect with one another,” Steinberg says. “They want an activity to do when they go out, and this is a way to do that.”

As for what games to expect, all the typical arcade standbys are present: Ms. Pac-Man, Q*Bert NBA Jam, Galaga, and more. All the games (there’s also a suggestion page for requests) will also be free to play, which is rare for an arcade.

The retro games inspired the design of the space, which features neon signs, and L-shaped bar, a merch area, and an artsy monograph letter board menu. Now that the destination is open full time, there are plans to have DJs most weekends under the light of a disco ball. Steinberg also wants to host watch parties, book local bands, and even hopes to pull in the occasional touring act. The performance aspect is something that has worked well for the arcade in the past, as showcased by the venue’s previous Artscape and Halloween concerts.

Other future plans include an expansion into the building adjacent to the arcade, which will allow the owners to have a more flexible layout and host larger events. North Ave. Market adds to the growth in Station North, as the area continues to thrive with its mix of old and new arts spaces.

“We’re working very hard showing everybody what growth in Station North can be,” Steinberg says. “We want to activate the space in a way that is beneficial to everybody in Baltimore.”

Ernest Shaw heard the news that Toni Morrison had died while he was driving to Station North Arts Café Gallery for breakfast.

“It’s a family atmosphere there, and that’s all everyone was talking about,” Shaw says, noting owner Kevin Brown had founded the James Baldwin Literary Society in Baltimore decades earlier. “As I was listening to the conversation, I started searching images on my phone.”

By afternoon—following a stop for spray paint at nearby Artist & Craftsman Supply—the muralist and longtime city arts teacher found himself in North Howard Street’s Graffiti Alley, putting the finishing touches on a large-scale, pop-up work of Morrison, who won a Pulitzer for her novel Beloved.

By evening, the soulful portrait had gone viral, and Shaw spent the next two days, including his 50th birthday, in the alley-turned-tourist-attraction doing interviews. “I’d found a photo when she was younger I liked initially, but I wanted something instantly recognizable—from the period when she became known to the world,” Shaw says. “I consider [her death] the acquiring of an ancestor. She earned that status. The portrait was my way of asking for permission to move forward.”

Situated behind Motor House—the arts venue where Shaw maintains a studio—Graffiti Alley, as one might anticipate, has a colorful history. Not visible from the street, the L-shaped alley had long been a receptacle for trash, used needles and condoms, and, occasionally, graffiti before artist Sherwin Mark bought the abandoned Lombard Office Furniture building and transformed it into the Load of Fun complex in 2005. (Burlesque star and then-tenant Trixie Little suggested the moniker, pointing out Mark only needed to remove some Lombard Office Furniture lettering.) Taking over in 2015, Motor House’s name pays homage to the city’s first Ford dealership, which predated the furniture store.

Immediately after Load of Fun opened, more graffiti writing began appearing in the alley. Mark appreciated the artwork; City officials did not. He was cited for refusing to cover over the graffiti and eventually a City crew took matters into their own hands with white primer. When racist slogans and gang symbols shot up on the suddenly stark canvas, Mark, with the support of local business owners, convinced officials to allow the graffiti writers to return.

Today, while the penalty in Maryland for graffiti can include a sentence of up to three years and a $2,500 fine, Graffiti Alley remains the one place in the state where the practice is tolerated. Attracting artists on a daily basis, the work in the alley remains almost constantly in flux. In recent years, the space has hosted a chamber music concert, an aerial arts festival, and too many weekend dance parties to count.

It’s by coincidence Shaw’s portrait of Morrison serves as an outdoor extension of his show inside Motor House—Testify! A Life’s Time of Emerging Blackness—which includes paintings of Baldwin, Nina Simone, and Thelonius Monk.

“I’m not used to spraying paint. When I do a mural it’s brushes and rollers, but I can practice here,” Shaw says, gesturing toward the Morrison wall, adding he’s picked up tips from accomplished Baltimore street artists Nether and Gaia.

He notes graffiti writers don’t typically appreciate the realistic portraiture work he does—particularly in a space like Graffiti Alley that they’ve claimed for themselves. “I did a Pablo Picasso that got covered right away,” he says. “Same with a blue-on-black John Coltrane portrait that was framed in a nice spot. Same with a [Grammy-winning jazz trumpeter] Roy Hargrove that I did after he died. That one meant a lot to me, because we were the same age and I’d followed his career. The next day, my signature was crossed out and someone had taken my Roy Hargrove portrait and put a different portrait on top of it.

“What can you do? You get used to it because you have to. Everything in life is changing all the time,” Shaw says, taking a long pause. “But yeah, truth is, I’ve been peeking out of my studio and checking every morning to see if the Toni Morrison portrait is still up.”

Ernest Shaw will host a guided tour of his solo exhibition —“Testify! A Life’s Time of Emerging Blackness”—at the Motor House, 120 W. North Ave., October 16, 6 p.m. to 8 p.m.

Citing a pledged $90 million in funding from Amtrak and public support from Rep. Elijah E. Cummings, developers with Beatty Development Group, Cross Street Partners, and Penn Station Partners presented their vision for transforming the area surrounding Penn Station and Station North at a public meeting Tuesday.

As the eighth busiest station in the Amtrak system, developers see the area as an increasingly vibrant one that deserves the type of amenities on par with the attention and foot traffic it’s getting. The pledge from Amtrak will be used to add new platforms for riders as well as retail and restaurant space. No tenants have been announced, but the hope is to keep things local. Another top priority is maintaining the integrity of the building and preserving its history, while also implementing long-clamored-for upgrades.

“When you think about adaptive reuse projects, you can really create a strong sense of place and ambience,” says John Renner, Cross Street Partners’ vice president of development. “That would be really cool.”

Developers gave an update on their progress since the first public information session last year used to gather community input. Plans announced include a new connection from Lanvale Street to the south of the station, concourses, and additional buildings located on surrounding parking lots that have been neglected. If things go as planned, this type of growth could stimulate new residential and office space as the area becomes more attractive and frequented.

They cautioned, though, that there is still an estimated $400 to $600 million of funding that will be needed to fulfill this vision. That will be achieved through grants, Opportunity Zone Funding, and tax credits. Bill Struever of Cross Street Partners noted that a project like this will require a local, state, and federal effort. “We want to maximize opportunities in Station North,” Struever says.

Throughout the presentation, speakers used Denver’s Union Station as an example. It underwent a massive transformation itself, turning into a food hall and a gathering hub for those in the city—buttressed by $500 million at the city, state, and federal levels. However, Baltimore runs far more trains. In fact, the impetus for the Amtrak money is an increase in train service throughout the northeast corridor. Essentially, where the focus in Denver was less centered on the transportation aspect by nature, plans in Baltimore are more holistic.

“Station North is full of activity,” Struever says. “It just doesn’t have a lot of places yet. We want to really take advantage and build the ecosystem here.”

There is obvious interest from Batlimoreans when it comes to what the finished product will end up looking like—should this vision be fulfilled. The meeting was at full capacity, and attendees were encouraged to leave notes with suggestions for things they’d like to see that would keep them coming back.

“Right now the streetscape is not very inviting,” says Ryan McAlpine, a transportation planner and Remington resident who’s lived in Baltimore for 11 years. “It doesn’t really lend itself to people wanting to spend time there. There are things that could be done to reverse that.”

McAlpine says he is encouraged by what was discussed Tuesday, but that there is still a lot of work to do. This is not a project that will be fully realized next year or the year after—rather, this meeting, and a subsequent one set to be held in late fall, will establish just how and when concrete action can begin to move forward.

“This is going to be huge for this city,” Struever says. “There’s all this great stuff happening around us and we’re really there to help knit it together, build, and make it great.”

For decades, Ernest Shaw’s large-scale murals and mixed media portraits have been integral landmarks in Baltimore City. In 2017, Shaw was awarded the Ruby’s Artist Grant for Visual Art. The artist used those earnings to curate a series of community dialogs that interrogated stereotypes and presumptions about black masculinity.

Those conversations informed two large bodies of work: a series of mixed media works on canvas of historic African American cultural and political figures, and a collection of graphite works on paper that feature portraits of women who have experienced abuse or sexual violence. Selections from both of those series will be on view in the exhibition TESTIFY! A Life’s Time of Emerging Blackness, which debuts July 11 and runs at the Motor House gallery in Station North through September.

Inspired by Carvaggio’s use of light and shadow, as well as Dunbar and DuBois’ theories about the duality of black identity, Shaw immortalizes prominent thought leaders, creatives, and historic figures. Among them are James Baldwin, Nina Simone, Wole Soyinka, Thelonius Monk, George Stinney Jr., and Okwui Enwezor—along with others whose work and walk have indelibly transformed the world.

“The history of this country should be illustrated not just told.” Shaw shared during our studio visit. “I want people to ask questions. I want people to experience the work and to be activated by whatever they bring to the work.”

Shaw’s style is unmistakable. The portraits he renders employ rhythmic gestural marks and stand as polyphonic mixed media compositions that are as free and eloquent as jazz itself. His portraits riff on realist and surreal adaptations of mythic figures—outliers whose likenesses have been reproduced countless times. Sometimes, a reproduction can flatten rather than elevate a legacy.

Some artists crumble under the pressure to visualize lifelike depictions of cultural giants. How do you capture Monk’s moody-blue brilliance or realize the celestial countenance of Sun Ra in a two-dimensional painting? How can you encompass the cutting wit of Baldwin’s scholarship or the brooding radicality of Simone’s timeless anthems in a singular portrait? Shaw culls a history of transformative black creative genius to found new monuments that declaratively refuse to be forgotten.

The iconography that Shaw incorporates in his portraits draw from traditional African Diasporic spiritual systems that have been invoked to heal, transmute, and transcend our corporeal forms. Loosely sketched and realistically detailed renderings of Yoruba masquerades, Dogon symbols, and Guinea Monkey Masks, hover like protective apparitions behind and around his subjects. The masks serve as a tether that binds the 19th, 20th, and 21st century figures to precolonial African narratives.

In George Stinney Jr., (2019), a charcoal work on paper, Shaw renders a realist profile and front facing mugshot of fourteen-year-old George Stinney Jr., the youngest person in American history to be executed by electric chair. Stinney was accused of murdering two white girls in Alcolu, South Carolina in 1944. Though Stinney was convicted in just ten minutes, evidence erected seventy years after his execution exonerated his death and acknowledged his wrongful conviction.

American history is rife with these kinds of horrific injustices. Black children are regularly prosecuted as adults. Biases in the criminal justice systems presume the criminality rather than the innocence of black men and women. Shaw’s inclusion of Stinney among portraits of entertainers and scholars is telling.

“I want folks to look at the portrait and learn more about the story of George Stinney,” Shaw noted. “I want them to become more aware about the works of someone like James Baldwin or Nina Simone.”

The portrait is tinged gray and blue. The expression on the boy’s face is solemn and haunting. Stinney is Freddie Gray and Tamir Rice, and the countless others who have been killed before technology could be leveraged to enforce accountability. Despite our advances, Stinney’s portrait stands as a troubling testament about a legacy of perpetual systemic violence and disregard for black life.

In contrast, St. James on the Cross (2019), a golden hued acrylic portrait of James Baldwin on canvas shows the regality, power and tenacity of black identity. Baldwin is draped in a long ivory tunic highlighted with indigo and light blue patterns. He stands affirmed and unabashedly confident against a bright yellow background. His eyes directly confront our gaze. His poise demands our respect. A wooden sculpture hovers in profile over his left shoulder. A dripping sun rises above his right. Baldwin’s portrait is a stunning testament to a long tradition of creative genius.

The power of the images Shaw produces resides in the narratives he encourages us to consider. I asked him what he hoped viewers of the exhibition would walk away with. His answer was precise and direct, “Black folks are human.”

TESTIFY!, not only acknowledges an awe inspiring cadre of dynamic lives, it also emboldens us, the viewers, to reflect on the influence and impact of our collective history.

“If you can’t see the humanity in George Stinney’s life, Baldwins words, or Simone’s songs, then there are some things you need to work on,” Shaw says. “My engagement with the audience is to exhibit the humanity of melanated people. To hold up the mirror to other melanated people to say ‘I am beautiful, I have a story, a history, a culture, a language, a psychology, a cosmology, I am a part of that, I have all of that.’”

The corner of North Charles and Eager streets just ain’t what it used to be. Sure, rainbow flags still fly outside of Grand Central Club, but it’s on borrowed time. Across the street, where Club Hippo once hosted epic bingo nights, show tunes karaoke, and hip-hop parties, is now the standard bat signal of gentrification—a CVS.

With gay bars closing in Baltimore, it brings up the inevitable questions: Can we explain this? Are these spaces still necessary? And what comes next?

“Years ago, gay bars were safe zones when gays were in fear of being beat up,” says Don Davis, who owned Grand Central for nearly 30 years until new owners took over earlier this year. “Once people started meeting online, we lost a lot of business.”

Beyond matchmaking websites and LGBTQ-friendly dating apps, the movement to legalize same-sex marriage in 2015 also played a part in curtailing gay-bar business. “Our community was able to get married and start a family, and the necessity to go out and meet people just wasn’t there,” says Chris Jennings, who runs events and marketing for the newly reopened Baltimore Eagle. “Plus, you need to move with trends. The way a space feels safe for us now is different from when I was in my 20s.”

Making sure there is a seat for everyone at the table—whether that’s the clientele or the business owners themselves—is an important part of keeping the inclusive scene alive here in Baltimore. “Most of the owners of these businesses were older, white gay men that entered into their golden years,” says Shelese Greene of the Pride Center of Maryland. “We now need investors who are also interested in supporting the black and brown LGBTQ community.”

Another theory for the closings is that bars in general have arguably become more accepting. “It’s taken a lot of years to feel more comfortable,” Davis says. “I’m not saying there’s no more gay-bashing, but certainly people are more decent now than they were.”

Even so, having a place that is 100-percent accepting is a priority for the community. “It’s a different kind of feeling when you go into a space and can vogue down the hallway and not be looked at like you’re crazy,” Greene explains. “It’s about tolerance and safety.”

“We need to make sure our spaces are not only safe, but also progressive,” adds Jennings. “When there are preconceived notions, certain segments don’t feel welcome.”

Long known to many as a strictly leather bar, the Eagle is aiming for more inclusivity in its newest iteration, with a more diverse staff and event offerings. And, for their part, the new owners of Grand Central are taking feedback from the Mt. Vernon neighborhood for what exactly could populate the renovated, mixed-use building.

Plus, throughout the city, places like Points South Latin Kitchen, El Bufalo, and Minnow are providing consistent venues for drag performers. “We are an LGBTQ safe space, and we’re heavily involved in the scene,” says Points South owner Bryson Keens. “Everything seems to be disappearing, and we want to do our part to support it.” Along with drag queen Brooklyn Heights and city council members, Keens is in the very early stages of discussing a new space in Baltimore City that could host drag performances six days a week.

“Whether it was Grindr or gentrification that killed gay bars, it’s our job to explore new options,” Keens says. “And now we have politicians coming to us trying to attract these spaces to their district. If that’s not progress, I don’t know what is.”

On Monday, dozens of local artists were evicted from Bell Foundry—a community arts space in Station North that is home to theater, gallery space, and recording studios. The city sent in fire marshals to condemn and board up the building, concluding that there were “numerous safety violations as well as deplorable conditions.”

Though the announcement came just days after a fire in Oakland, California warehouse arts space that killed nearly 40 people, the city says the eviction is not related. Inspectors cite four building violations: no valid permit, unsafe conditions, use of flammables and combustibles, and unlawful removal of beams from the ceiling.

Still, residents of the Bell Foundry found themselves displaced earlier this week and we interviewed artists Qué Pequeño, Ava Pipitone, and Person Abide to hear about their experience and where they go from here.

In a way, the zig-zag-printed stage at the Windup Space is symbolic of the programming that the arts venue has become known for. One night you could be there to see a local band or comedy show, and the next you could be sketching live models or screening episodes of Twin Peaks in the dark.

This week, the haven for local creatives will celebrate 11 years of offering inclusive arts showcases in Station North. But, sadly, owner Russell De Ocampo recently announced that the space won’t be around for year 12.

“We’ve had the pleasure of sharing our love for the strange and beautiful things that Baltimore has to offer with our own special blend of programming,” De Ocampo said in a statement announcing a closing date of June 1. “We hope you found the things you were looking for and discovered some new things that you will never forget.”

Discovery was a huge aspect of the Windup ethos. Whether packed in shoulder to shoulder for a show or mingling freely at a gallery exhibition, regulars appreciated the versatility of the venue (which Baltimore named a “Best Bar” in 2010), and its ability to open their eyes to obscure art forms.

“Since Russell was so willing to bring in just about anything that people could get down to, we really leaned on the space for availability,” says Derek Vaughan Brown, a local singer and actor who performs at Windup monthly with the groups like the Baltimore Rock Opera Society and psychedelic punk trio Patterson Trash. “It wasn’t necessarily about monetizing for him, but about drawing all of those people in and letting them express themselves and use their voices.”

Veteran rapper Eze Jackson says that De Ocampo has been welcoming him “with open arms” for nearly a decade. Back when his band Soul Cannon was just starting out, Jackson struggled to find performance spaces in the area.

“At that time, it was hard for us to get booked and even harder for us to put together our own bills,” he says. “Other venues had trouble understanding us being on bills with punk bands or rock bands, and Russell was one of the first people to be open to any ideas that we thought were cool.”

In the years since, Jackson has appeared in front of the iconic red curtains countless times. Among the many Windup memories that stick out in his mind is a show that he curated with J. Pope and the late Derrick “OOH” Jones of hip-hop and reggae group Brown Fish in 2010.

Jackson has also performed there with the Baltimore Boom Bap Society, whose founders Wendel Patrick and Erik Spangler first met at one of the venue’s many free improv events. The duo later established a home for their live collaborative hip-hop showcases on the Windup stage.

“We just had one on Saturday and didn’t know that it was our last one,” Patrick says. “We’ve done individual shows at many places many times, but Windup has been our home for almost eight years and we’ve been proud to call it our home. I can’t really think of a space that I’ve been sad to see close like that.”

Brown sees the closure as yet another hit to the DIY arts scene, especially after the loss of The Bell Foundry, whose tenants were evicted in 2016, and Single Carrot Theatre—which recently vacated its Remington home.

“Those experiences are starting to vanish a little bit,” he says. “Something that Russell was always keen to support was this idea that you don’t need to figure out how to make money off of a project, as long as you’re not spending money to make it. For art kids in Baltimore, that’s perfect. There is something really beautiful about a small theater performing something in an inexpensive space.”

Now faced with the impending closure at the end of the month, regulars are beginning to contemplate what the local landscape will look like without the North Avenue gathering spot.

“There will never be another Windup Space,” Jackson says. “After you’ve been on the scene for so many years, you start to realize that’s the reality. Venues come and go, but I hope whoever gets that space understands its history and at least tries to keep up what it brought to the scene.”

De Ocampo’s Station North neighbor and close friend Sarah Werner, who owns Metro Gallery around the corner, took to Facebook to share her thoughts on the void that Windup will leave behind: “I can’t really imagine Station North without Russell,” she said. “Every bit of the Windup Space was an outpouring of his love for the artists and people of Baltimore.”

Even still, artists remain hopeful that Windup has paved the way for other spaces throughout the city to welcome works of all genres.

“I’d obviously love for other places and venues to maybe try to follow suit, but I don’t think it’s really a model that one would necessarily follow—it was just Russell,” Patrick says. “He had this place that he really wanted and he’s just such a caring and thoughtful individual. It really came out in the space.”

To give the club a proper send off, the next two weeks will be jam-packed with the diverse entertainment that Windup has become known for. Specifically, the final 4 Hours of Funk will happen this Friday, the Baltimore Record Bazaar is scheduled for May 19, one last “Whose Roll Is It Anyway” performance will happen on May 26, and Brown’s band Patterson Trash will host a “Living Wake” (complete with blacklight table tennis) on May 29. Locals are making plans to stop by in the coming weeks to have one last drink and honor the community that the Windup Space has built.

“I grew up watching Cheers,” Jackson shares. “And when Windup first opened, I actually lived right around the corner on Maryland and LaFayette, so I used to joke and say that Windup was my Cheers. I was Norm, and I would be over there every night. I’m sad to see it go.”

Following the comings and goings of restaurants in Baltimore can sometimes feel like a game of musical chairs. In one of the most recent rounds, Adrien Aeschliman’s Colette closed after a short stint in Station North, his other restaurant Bottega moved in briefly (after relocating from around the block), and then, when the chef-owner decided to leave town, he contacted his friend Elan Kotz and asked him if he’d be interested in occupying the spot a few doors down from The Charles Theatre. By late January, Orto was open and the very same cabaret chairs were still warm from Bottega patrons.

Got that? No matter. All you need to know is that, while Bottega was beloved for its inventive plates of Tuscan cuisine, Orto, in the words of its chef Stefano Porcile “is finishing what Adrien started.” Bottega was a sleeper hit, and Orto, which means vegetable garden in Italian, is derived from a similar DNA with high-quality ingredients and flavor combinations that wow—not surprising given that the talented Porcile worked as a cook there. At Orto, Porcile forges a new identity, something that’s a bit more grown up than Bottega, but with the same emphasis on fresh ingredients and exciting flavor combinations.

Orto is instantly appealing from the minute you step past the candlelit bar area and into the snug dining area with its plaster walls and mix of old-world still-life paintings and contemporary artwork. Everything about the space works in harmony. And that extends far beyond the décor. Orto strikes a perfect balance on all fronts, from its size (not too large with 78 seats and a handful of small plates, pastas, and entrees) to its ambiance (not overly formal, but still special) to its dishes that are simple yet showstopping. The menu is composed of house-made pastas, salads, steaks, seafood, and poultry, as well as dishes that heavily highlight seasonal vegetables and classic Italian ingredients.

Porcile, who describes his menu as “classic Italian with contemporary sensibilities,” has worked in many kitchens around town. Way back when he was pursuing his passion for cooking, he visited the illustrious Culinary Institute of America. After touring, he came to the conclusion that he “didn’t want to do the same shit that everyone else was doing.” So, he drove home to work at Woodberry Kitchen and Fork & Wrench and learned by doing how to compose plates full of flavor with nuanced ingredients and sophistication.

Service at Orto only enhances the experience. On our first visit, we were tended to by the former general manager at Woodberry. “What catches your eye?” she asked. She was so good at expounding on the menu that we just couldn’t decide. Pretty much everything vied for our attention, but after two outings, we were practically pros. Begin with a glass of Peroni and some “conservas” appe-teasers as you peruse the menu (olives marinated in fennel and citrus peel filled the void), then move on to whichever pasta you’re lucky enough to find. They’re all stellar, but pray for the butternut agnolotti splashed with Madeira and tossed with brown butter and sage.

On our first visit, the chef himself arrived at our table to deliver the ravioli stuffed with ricotta cheese, Sicilian tomatoes, chive, basil, and butter, as well as instructions. “Do me a favor,” he said. “Bite into everything at once.” As I bit into the delicate and delicious house-made noodle, the sweetness and acid of the tomatoes played perfectly with the floral notes of the basil. Basil was also used to great effect in the ricotta cavatelli, with hazelnuts standing in for the more traditional pine nuts. They added a pleasing sweetness, especially when paired with a luscious dollop of whipped burrata. I was far from alone in my dish bliss. As I watched the same plate of pasta land at another table, I overheard another patron utter the words, “Oh my god,” after her first bite.

Before ordering your pasta, you’ll also want to try a shareable salad such as the charred radicchio with shaved Brussels and a touch of balsamic grapes or the arugula salad with just a hint of pecorino, fennel, pear, and walnuts. Even something seemingly ordinary, like, say, a small plate of crispy Brussels sprouts tossed with Calabrian chili honey, chive oil, and torn basil, provided a master class in sweet-heat. You’ll also want to share some of the more sizeable “principales,” like an irresistible buttermilk-soaked fried chicken Milanese paired with a little gem Caesar, an ideal matchup of crispy and creamy.

Orto feels like the kind of place that you could wander into without reservations to get a glass of wine and a quick plate of pasta at the bar before a movie. But don’t make that mistake. The restaurant has definitely gotten an early bump from Bottega loyalists, but diners are fast learning that it’s well worthy of a visit in its own right. Even as it was opening, prime time tables were hard to come by, and, on one Saturday night, every table was filled. If you’re not able to snag a spot, no worries. Come back—Orto is going to stick around for the foreseeable future.

ORTO 1709 Charles St. 443-759-7200. HOURS: Sun.-Sat. 5-10 p.m. PRICES: Small plates: $11-17; medium plates: $14-18; entrees: $21-30. AMBIANCE: Romantic.

With the news of Grand Central closing, not long after we said goodbye to The Hippo across the street, the fate of Baltimore’s gay bars has been in jeopardy. But, this Easter weekend, the LGBTQ community will have something to celebrate as the Baltimore Eagle will reopen under new operators.

After closing last July due to a dispute between the landlord and former tenant, the Baltimore Eagle LLC is owned by Beth Cooper. The Station North building is still owned by Lorraine’s husband, Ian Parrish, and his father, Charles Parrish. Known around town as a leather bar, the new iteration aims to be more inclusive to the community at large.

And what better time to celebrate a resurrection than Easter weekend?

“When the bar closed, some of the former patrons had a full funeral for the bar at the Windup Space,” says photographer Chris Jennings, who is heading up events and marketing for the Eagle. “They put the logo in a casket and everything. When we were coming up with the date to reopen, I was like we have to do it on Easter. We are bringing a bar back that people deemed dead.”

The Eagle has had a long and storied past within the Baltimore LGBTQ community, originally open in 1991 until it closed for the first time in 2012. Charles Parrish says he was one of the first patrons of the Eagle when it debuted, and his mother, Emma, was a well-known burlesque performer who used to sing with Billie Holiday at the Gaiety. Over the years, the bar has hosted many parties and benefits for HIV/AIDS awareness and other charities.

This legacy and lineage are why many people are happy to see it once again open its doors on North Charles Street.

The three-part reopening weekend will start off with a massive drag show on Friday, April 19, featuring Tatianna from RuPaul’s Drag Race and hosted by Baltimore’s own Brooklyn Heights. On Saturday, the bar will host a 4:20-themed party where speakers from local dispensaries will come in to provide information and advocacy related to the medical marijuana industry. On Easter, there will be five DJs from a vast spectrum of the community, including DJ Tezrah, DJ Sidekick, DJ Swank, and one of the Eagle’s bar backs, Brandon Michaels.

“I want people to walk in the door and know this space is for them,” Jennings says. “Everyone should come in this door and feel affirmed in their body. Every type of person you can think of works here. I’m a black, non-binary person. Our owner is a queer, white woman. We want people to take a deep breath and know there’s somewhere for them to go to feel free from judgement.”

After Easter weekend, the Eagle will operate in Station North seven days a week from 4 p.m.-2 a.m. with regular drink specials, performances, and DJ nights. A renovated bar and stage is complemented by new photography, taken by Jennings, that displays a vast spectrum of people in the community. The more inclusive direction for the bar makes reopening during a religious weekend all the more apropos.

“Our spaces are like our churches—it’s where we find community and learn about ourselves,” Jennings says. “Baltimore really needs a progressive space, especially in Station North. This is the place to be kooky and artsy. I think that, as a city, we’re craving it.”

Over the past few years, I’ve been practicing yoga. Sure, it’s been a thrill seeing my body change and challenging myself into more intricate postures, but never would I imagine pulling off acro-yoga. Aside from the idea of acrobatics meshed with yoga seeming beyond my reach, I was slightly intimidated by the idea of doing a more intimate practice with a group of people I did not know.

I entered AsanaRoots and was immediately greeted by the instructors. The small studio space was brightly lit, and the artwork on the walls was mesmerizing. While my first impression was welcoming, my intimidation only grew as I began to stretch among others who were well more advanced than me and had already known each other well.

Yet, as the class went on, I become more comfortable and excited. I was lifted into the air, accomplishing physical challenges I never knew I was capable of, all the while being supported by a generous team. I left the the yoga class with an endorphin-induced high and a new-found sense of acro-accomplishment.

Afterwards, I sat down with my instructors Eric Sipes and Kelly Marburger to chat about the practice, its benefits, and why we should all step out of our comfort zone.

How did you discover acro-yoga and why did you choose to become an instructor?

Kelly Marburger: I started teaching because I was one of only a small handful of people in Baltimore who knew the practice, so I had to teach. I actually saw a circus performance here in Baltimore, and at the time a teacher who was working at Charm City Movement Arts was performing, and I thought it was so cool and that I had to try it out.

Eric Sipes: I was introduced to it by a guy I was slack-lining with, and he was like, “Hey, you do want to see something?” I was like, “Sure,” and he threw me upside down and I thought, “This is the best thing ever!” From there, I looked around in Baltimore for it, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I finally found the Charm City Movement Arts, which is no longer in business. I met Kelly and the rest of our crew through Charm City Movement arts, got a yoga teacher certification from Baltimore Yoga Village, and then we all went to Mexico to get our acro-yoga international certifications.

Are there philosophies or principles that acro-yoga is built upon?

KM: Yoga is a little different as it’s very introspective. You can maybe explore relationships in it, but mostly you’re doing an individual practice whereas acro-yoga really expands the practice to make it more community-based, which I sometimes feel like yoga is lacking a little. I love being able to bring that because sometimes in our culture you’re expected to sit in a cubicle all day, not interacting with people, and then you go to a yoga class, and you’re doing something also introspective. It can be great, but this is a great way to bring it all together and be community-oriented.

What do participants want to take away from your class?

ES: Joy. If what you’re doing doesn’t feel good, you should do something else. And if it feels good, then you’re doing it right.

KM: I’d say fun. We want people to come into class and forget about the crazy day they had, have fun, be challenged, and enjoy themselves.

ES: By connecting through physical touch, we release neurotransmitters that make us feel good. And I think a lot of some the issues that people have: depression, anxiety, these things can actually be alleviated through the practice of acro and being in physical contact with people with good intentions.

As a partner-based practice, what would you tell people who are shy or who want to fly solo?

KM: Please come! We try to encourage people as much as we possibly can to come. We mix up the partners, it’s never like you’re going to get stuck in a group that’s not working well.

ES: It does push people out of their comfort zone sometimes. It’s really good to go out and do things that make you a little bit uncomfortable to grow as a person.

Why should someone come to AsanaRoots for acro-yoga?

KM: I’d say it’s just really freakin’ fun, while still challenging yourself.

ES: I think if you come in with an open mind, you will leave with a smile on your face.