Introduction

Blessed by big hair and broad smokestacks, Baltimore doesn’t put on airs to impress the swells. Which is exactly why I love it. Snobbery and bullshit are frowned upon in Charm City. Locals go their own way, content to pound Natty Bo beer at the corner bar (but still pissed that the once-local brewery skipped town) and decry the state of the O’s (damn you, Angelos!).

This ain’t no slackertown though. B’more is proud of its work ethic and heritage, a world away from standard corporate windbagging. Its industrial heyday passed decades back, but Baltimore reinvented itself by transforming industrial detritus into workable public spaces, pioneering smart growth by reviving the city’s soul: its waterfront.

It trades on its funkiness too, turning low brow into high art; cases in point, town’s favorite son, filmmaker John Waters (Hairspray, Pink Flamingos), who amped Bawlmor kitsch to cult status, and the what-the-hell?-worthy American Visionary Art Museum, where art-cars bump against junk sculptures crafted by the best creatives of all: everyday freaks. If real is the new cool, Baltimore is where it’s at.

See & Do

Unlike so many American cities whose revitalization projects wind up sucking out whatever life was left in the regions they’ve ‘redeveloped,’ Baltimore’s waterfront did it right. I get my B’more sea legs each visit on the Baltimore Water Taxi, the old wooden bobbers that shuttle smart travelers to all the docks, from Fort McHenry, birthplace of the Star-Spangled Banner, to Fells Point, the weekend hotspot for barhopping.

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The waterfront’s flagship, the National Aquarium in Baltimore, is a stunner. But cut to the chase: the shark tank is the star of the show. One fishy caveat: that $22 admission? What-ever. Sharks in suits behind that one.

Maybe the aquarium will learn from the city’s two main art museums—the spectacular Baltimore Museum of Art and the stuffier Walters Art Museum, both of which – get this – dropped their admission fees in 2006. How cool is that? Free – my favorite price. Equally sweet is the BMA’s killer collection, with 30+ Calders, a full Matisse suite, and the world’s second-largest Warhol holding. View ‘em in fine style on First Thursdays, when extended evening hours and a cash bar draw a flirty crowd.

Crowds descend on Fells Point each weekend to pack the bars and restaurants inside converted 18th-Century-era shipbuilders’ haunts. Past the waterfront shops and restaurants, centuries-old wooden and brick row houses comprise the Fells Point National Historic District, where vintage street lamps illuminate brick-lined squares and streets, and seabirds dive bomb on unsuspecting lunchers. Look closely and you can still see the old market stall numbers etched into the stone along Broadway Square. The Fells Point Visitors Center can point you where to go. On weekend evenings, expect crowds of roving frat boys.

Just because tourists flock to Fort McHenry, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. Now a national park at the harbor’s mouth, Fort McHenry got shellacked by the Brits during the War of 1812, but Old Glory kept flying, inspiring Francis Scott Key (Key Bridge, get it?) to pen our National Anthem. Visit by water taxi to take in the arriving Brits’ vantage point. While weekend battle reenactments get kind of hokey, it’s nothing but cool if you’re one of the dozen-odd visitors chosen to fold the fort’s flag at day’s end.

Tourism officials want you to linger at the waterfront, which ain’t a half-bad place to be, but to get under the city’s skin, ditch the tourists and head into the neighborhoods. Federal Hill has cobblestoned history and B’more’s best photo op spot, Federal Hill Park; Charles Village sports old mansions and supports Johns Hopkins University life; Canton, with its mod loft developments and increasingly hedonistic nightlife has grabbed some of Fells Points’ former mojo. Little Italy has gotten press since favorite daughter Nancy Pelosi assumed the House gavel; if she’s still a bona fide local, she gets cannoli and tiramisu at Vaccaro’s Pastry on Albemarle.

Some neighborhoods cash in on B’more’s kitschiness—for better or worse. Witness social Darwinism in gentrified Hampden, an old-school enclave that the too-cool set swarmed in the 1990s. The neighborhood denizens love sporting their cat-eye glasses, bowling frames of duckpin (think smaller, holeless balls) at Patterson Bowling Center, and browsing the shelves at the indie Atomic Books. For the full-on treatment, come for HonFest, a celebration of Baltimore’s 1950s culture. Alas, Hampden, a victim of its own popularity, now faces Starbucks’ armies at their gates.

One common nabe topic? The Orioles. Come spring, you’ll inevitably hear: ‘Oh, they’ll be better this year. Miggy’s happier, they’ve rebuilt the bullpen, blah blah blah.’ Uh, the Orioles? Face it, fans—so long as owner Peter Angelos continues to run the club like Lindsay Lohan on a bender, this once-proud franchise is a train wreck smoldering at the back of the AL East.

But their ballpark kicks ass. Oriole Park at Camden Yards pioneered the retro-stadium look in 1992, and remains a great place to hang out on game days. Don’t wear pinstripes. Tickets are easy to come by, or you can troll the promenade by Eutaw Street and spot golden baseballs in the walkway memorializing homers past. B’more native Babe Ruth knocked some dingers in his day (as a Yankee), which baseball fiends can gawk over at the Babe Ruth Birthplace and Museum, three blocks from the park (follow the yellow baseball road.)

The NFL’s Ravens had their shot with QB Steve McNair. (The window sure closed on that one fast, eh?) If you like hockey played with rubber balls and nets on sticks, shoot for the
Lacrosse Museum and National Hall of Fame.

Baltimore Restaurants & Bars: Our Favorites

What’s fresh and local sets the menu at The Bicycle ($$$$), a tiny, noisy bistro in Federal Hill. That means seafood, usually with an Asian or Caribbean kick, like the corn soup with blue crab and pepper salsa (spicy!), or the pan-fried oysters with hot-and-sour cucumbers. Check out the day’s choices at the open-air kitchen before squeezing into a booth along the wall. Space is tight. Plan to order several small plates and share.

A warm, upscale Mexican place in the old McHenry Theater near Federal Hill, the Blue Agave ($$$–$$$$) manages to be hip, but not pretentious. The dishes are less-than-typical (no chimichangas here!), and portions are soul-satisfyingly enormous: a buddy and I feasted for two days on leftover juicy pork from our carnitas platter. Other entrees include chili-rubbed grilled meats drowned in a lovely mole sauce. Oh, and their margaritas could knock out a horse.

Natty Bo won’t make the cut at Brewer’s Art ($$$–$$$$), the upscale beer bistro that owns Baltimore’s craft-beer market. What sets it apart (besides the thumping Resurrection Ale) is its menus—not the usual pub-grub here, instead expect duck confit, or figs tossed with goat cheese. Vino-heads note: they pop $12 bottles on Sundays and Mondays; normally they cost twice that.

For crab cakes, Faidley Seafood has the pedigree, and their meaty suckers nail it—huge, honking clumps of lumpy crab meat mixed with mayo, dijon, hot sauce, worcestshire, saltines and eggs. Faidley’s been prepping and dishing the goods from the same booth at Lexington Market ($) for 120 years. Skip Obryicki’s.

Never mind that Nacho Mama’s is the best-named bar ever, or that it’s in the heart of Canton, Baltimore’s weekend heart of hedonistic darkness. Appreciate the Natty Bo beer and Orioles posters. Accept the occasional frat boys and the women who love them, the overindulgence in the church of Elvis. All of it is merely prelude to the main event: A hubcap full of margarita, fortified with 13 shots of tequila—for ten bucks. ‘Nuff said.

Sometimes you want to chat up the people you meet in Club Charles. Other times, you wanna punch ‘em. Self-obsessed skinny jeans–vintage t-shirters flock here, but I have to confess, they all look smokin’ hot, especially against the backdrop of one of Maryland’s best-decorated bars: red, red, and more red, with a heaven-and-hell motif that elicits the inner sinner and sexes up the saints. If you don’t look deadly cool under the Charles’ lights, I am sorry my friend: You are lame.

Baltimore Hotels

Baltimore has loads of big-box hotels catering to business travelers, which is great for weekend visitors who can score cut-rate deals around town. Chains cluster in the City Center and around Inner Harbor, great base camps for exploring the city. Rates vary wildly, depending on occupancy.

The Baltimore Hampton Inn ($$$) distinguishes itself with superior service, thick walls, and Sleep Number beds (for reals). A block from Camden Yards, the Baltimore Marriott Inner Harbor ($$$) is a hit among baseball fans, though nearby construction is impeding their cherished views of Camden Yards.

Baltimore’s bed and breakfasts offer good value too. In Mount Vernon, Abacrombie Fine Food and Dining ($–$$$) occupies a cute, four-floor 19th-Century walkup (read: no elevators), across the street from Meyerhoff Symphony Hall. Its inviting, yet casual atmosphere (no pressed suits here) and tidy, if slightly worn rooms (corner ones are bigger) might not meet high-end needs, but the price is right, and the restaurant rocks: the pork tenderloin with cinnamon and star anise and rutabaga puree scored four forks apiece in a recent Bon Appétit review.

Book early to get intoCelie’s Waterfront Inn ($$$–$$$$) in Fells Point, where the early American homey (cum hokey) decor is handily offset by the sweet rooftop deck and its stellar views.

On the waterfront, the Pier 5 Hotel ($$$$) drips purple-and-beige-infused hipness and spoons up yummy dip during ‘Crabby Hour,’ (yes, you read that right), when guests congregate beneath the beveled glass atrium and get cooking demos while they drink. The lobby’s metallic grey chaises and postmodern murals set a loungey mood; sleek headboards, rounded mirrors and oversized floorlamps lend a high-end-Ikea look to the rooms.

Decked out with understatedly mod furnishings and local artwork, there’s no sign that the Inn at 2920 ($$$–$$$$) was once a bordello. Earth tones dominate the color palette, but green is the watchword: the inn throws around its sustainability cred like a Michelin star. Breakfasts are righteous, with pastries whipped up by proprietor and former pro-chef David Schwartz. The Canton addresses lends added cool. This is one of our faves.

Rumor has it the Royal Saudi family kept a wing of rooms on retainer at the Harbor Court Hotel, ($$$$) an arrangement that may have changed since the hotel transitioned to an Intercontinental imprint. I haven’t checked back in since then, but Intercons are generally high-end business class, not first. Still, the lobby’s mad spiral staircase remains, as do the usual high-end amenities like twice-daily housekeeping service. Other than that, can’t say. Will keep you posted. Management companies aside, the worldly cool Explorer’s Lounge remains my favorite spot for Scotch and cigars.

Once the top boutique hotel in town, the Admiral Fell Inn has fallen—at least its service standards have. But if you want to whoop it up at Fells Point, then stumble home without having to drive, the Admiral Fell may be your best bet. NB: Thin walls make ear plugs a necessity.

Vacation Rentals

Vacation rentals can be tricky to navigate, but the payoff is huge. Whether you’re a budget traveler who can’t afford the double-whammy cost of hotels and restaurants, or a luxury traveler who wants seclusion and over-the-top grandeur, you’ll get more space and privacy for your money by booking a rental property. And you’ll have a kitchen too. Read our vacation rentals how-to guide to find our how, and where, to rent.