The Prime Rib in Mount Vernon

There are plenty of restaurants in Mount Vernon, which is one of the benefits of this fabulous neighborhood. (Along with the boutiques, the park, the cultural institutions, the performing venues, etc.) And I love food. So I suspect that quite a few of my blogs will be about meals that I’ve had in and around Baltimore.

This past weekend I had the good fortune to go to a restaurant that is a staple of not only the Mount Vernon scene, but the entire city. Restaurants come and go, and it’s exciting when a new and interesting one pops onto the radar. But I confess that I am a sucker for tradition, and I greatly enjoy the establishments that have been a mainstay for many years.

So, on Saturday night I put on my Loehmanns find and some sparkly shoes and walked up Saint Paul St. I hooked a right on Chase, and walked a block and a half to the architectural monstrosity that is Horizon House. In such unprepossessing surroundings, it is always a surprise to find that in the basement of that building resides “The Prime Rib.”

When you step inside, the bland, cement block feeling inspired by Horizon House dissolves. You are greeted by a tuxedoed maitre d’, who is unfailingly attentive, but not stuffy. This is Baltimore, after all. The décor is dated, but purposefully so. The Prime Rib first opened its doors in 1965, but the décor is reminiscent of a 1940’s supper club. There is dark lacquered paneling with gold trim, comfy leather chairs, white starched tablecloths and napkins, and leopard print carpet. I would usually go out on a limb and say that wall-to-wall animal print is not a good design choice, but trust me, it works. The bar is on the left, and serves all of the classic cocktails. I couldn’t resist ordering a dirty Martini and watching as old Baltimore came in for their special occasions. I only eavesdropped for a short time, but there were at least two birthdays and an anniversary being celebrated. If my snooping capabilities were in doubt, the jazz trio cleared it up by playing tasteful renditions of “Happy Birthday” at the diners’ request. May I say that it was delightful to have live music throughout the evening. I know of no other restaurant in Charm City that has live music every night. If I had my way, every establishment would have a piano and a talented musician behind it adding atmosphere to the dining experience.

When we finished our cocktails and were shown to our seats, we were squashed in, cheek by jowl, between two other couples. Since we were also celebrating a birthday, we decided to ask for a change of table. It was a busy Saturday night, so I was skeptical that the maitre d’ would be able to accommodate our request. However, not two minutes later we were seated at a table that lent itself to a much more intimate evening. That kind of hospitality and attention to detail was consistent throughout the meal.

We decided, because it was a special occasion, to each have a starter and split them between us. Luckily for us, the chef made a mistake on the portions, so instead of half a portion of Lobster bisque, we both had a whole portion. And this bisque is not for the faint-hearted. I think it was the thickest I’ve ever had, but not lumpy in the slightest. The shrimp cocktail consisted of four enormous shrimp, and was good but unremarkable. For the main course, we had the New York Strip, done medium and in Pittsburgh style. It was superb, and I had enough to take home for the next day. And I only had the twelve ounce! The sides were creamed spinach and the stuffed baked potato, a Prime Rib specialty. When we inquired of our waiter with what it was stuffed, he responded that it was a mixture of seven cheeses, but he was unable to reveal the secret recipe. Our interested piqued, we ordered it and were glad we did. Finally, we finished off with the bourbon bread pudding, which was excellent.

If you are reading this thinking that I am an enormous glutton, you are correct, and I was very glad of a gentle walk home. However, in my defense, we arrived at the restaurant at 7:30, and did not depart until 11:30, taking the concept of a leisurely meal to heart. It was an added graciousness on the part of the staff that no one made us feel as if we needed to rush. It was a wonderful evening, and all within a few blocks of my home. There’s a reason The Prime Rib has been in Mount Vernon for over forty years – you just can’t get enough of a classic.

Singing in the rain at the Baltimore Book Festival

I must confess that I am new to the blogging arena, but I always say that the city of Baltimore, and particularly the neighborhood of Mount Vernon, should pay me a stipend for all of the compliments I give about it to skeptical listeners. I’ve never received a stipend, of course, but if I did, I’d want a raise because of this blog. This is not to say that there won’t ever be a negative word about Charm City or my fabulous neighborhood. I am a realist, people! But this will be my record of life as a city-dweller, an urbanite, an East-coaster, a transplanted Washingtonian, an adopted Baltimoron, and a rabid Mount Vermin. I suspect that it will be overwhelmingly positive. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if it became a chronicle of my love affair with Baltimore.

A great example of why I love this city occurred this past weekend in Mount Vernon. For those of you for whom the weekend is quickly receding into the murky, all too distant past, it rained. Copious amounts. Saturday and Sunday. For those of us whose work is more plentiful on weekends, this might not be that troublesome. For those of you who work for five days, planning your freedom for two precious days, a rainy weekend is not ideal. Especially in September, when the weather in our area is typically glorious. It doesn’t have the humidity of August, or the nip of October. It’s pristine, going-and-playing-outside weather. Great weather to go to the Baltimore Book Festival. Right?

This was the 13th annual Baltimore Book Festival, which is held every September in Mount Vernon. Last year, according to their website, www.baltimorebookfestival.com , they had over 60,000 people in attendance. Speaking as a resident of the neighborhood, it always feels like far more! Despite the lack of parking due to the festival, in a neighborhood that is always challenged by parking issues, I love this three day literary party. The main attraction is the books. Thousands of books, crammed into big tents and little tents and tents defying description. Cheap books: classics and pulp, revered and unknown, so new the binding is yet uncracked and so old that you can see the number of previous owners by the script on the flyleaf. If you are dragged to the Festival by a bibliophile whose obsession you do not share, you will not appreciate those wares or the many poetry and prose readings. However, there are exhibitor tents, live music, activities for the kids, walking tours, cooking demonstrations, and a veritable cornucopia of food and drink. (I think I shall devote another blog entirely to Baltimore food at events like the Festival – stay tuned.)

When it started raining on Saturday, I felt badly for the participants of the Festival: organizers, exhibitors, and patrons. But, “At least Friday was ok,” I thought, “and Sunday is sure to be better.” That was not the case. This was a rainy weekend. And while I am sure that attendance was down at the Festival because of the weather, it wasn’t a wash out. Pun intended. I must state for the record that I was unable to participate fully in the Book Festival this year. As a Realtor in a period of extreme economic uncertainty, I was delighted to be showing properties to clients on Saturday, (being drenched several times, of course) and have an Open House on Sunday. (Drenched again, whilst putting out “Open House – this way!” signs.) But as I live across from the park, I was a spectator as I came in and went out from my home. Despite the sodden conditions, I watched the Festival-goers arrive, ready for their yearly haul. And I watched them depart, heavy laden with their treasures, stashed in reusable bags, or plastic bags to protect them from the rain, or in carts with wheels in order to the get the books home without causing irrevocable harm to their backs and shoulders. I saw families with strollers, kids with ice-cream, adults with umbrellas. My fellow Baltimoreans braved the rain, with smiles (mostly) for a book fair. I know that we have some serious literacy issues in our city, and that the slogan “The City that Reads” was mocked off of the bus station benches, but in this past weekend, I believed that slogan was true.