More neighborhoods need a cozy McCabe's

By Elizabeth Large | Sun Restaurant Critic

March 23, 2008

Every once in a while after I've reviewed a string of fine-dining, high-flying and/or muy trendy restaurants, I have a yearning to eat at a place like McCabe's -- which, if not a Baltimore institution, has certainly been around long enough to be considered a Hampden institution.

I hadn't been to McCabe's since I last reviewed it in 1995, partly because the dollhouse-size dining room was so open to the bar there was no way to get away from the smokers. I was curious to see how this more-than-a-bar, less-than-a-restaurant (because it only has 12 tables) has been doing since the smoking ban.

It seems to be doing fine. It's still a matter of getting there early or late, even on a weeknight, or you'll have to wait for a table. Those tables, nicely set with white and green linens, are so jammed together you can sneak one of your neighbor's french fries when he isn't looking. You can either consider the dining room warm and cozy or claustrophobic, depending on your mood. I tend to think of it as cozy because the staff and the other customers are so good-natured.

McCabe's is a real neighborhood place, the kind that you want to have in your neighborhood when you don't feel like cooking. There are freshly made soups, and the desserts are all made in-house.

It's best known around town for its hamburger, crab cakes and steaks; but the kitchen will occasionally venture into more uncharted territory, like the tilapia with seafood gumbo sauce that was a special the night we were there. This was a success, with flaky fresh fish and a sauce that resembled seafood gumbo soup (one of the choices that night). It worked as a sauce, if not a particularly attractive one.

But McCabe's strength is bar food, like the crisp gold rings of fried calamari with a "spicy remoulade" that tasted like a spiced-up red sweet pepper mayonnaise. The McCabe cheeseburger is the right size: thick and juicy but not overwhelmingly big, so you have room for the crunchy seasoned french fries that come with it.

Steaks, such as the 12-ounce New York strip, are very respectable, with a good baked potato and a salad made with leaf lettuce instead of iceberg and a balsamic vinaigrette.

But sometimes things go awry. The beer-battered shrimp appetizer, a special that night, was fine once you slipped off the heavy, soft coating of beer batter and just ate the shrimp.

What was even more serious was that I had issues with McCabe's signature crab cakes, which were market-priced at $29.99. They do contain some jumbo lumps; but my advice is that, unless a crab cake is all jumbo lump, get them fried, not broiled. Otherwise you don't have a nice golden crust to counteract the mushiness.

Back to the kitchen's successes. The soups are definitely one of them; you have to admit that offering five of them is impressive. They taste made from scratch, aren't oversalted and come to the table very hot.

I wouldn't turn down the recipe for the chicken and orzo, but it was the baked potato soup that really wowed us. It was smooth, flavorful and pretty, decorated with a few green onions and a sprinkling of cheddar.

At the other end of the meal, the fruit pies have superior crusts, the bread pudding is boozy with Grand Marnier and you won't be able to resist the hot-fudge sundae once you see that the table next to you has one.

As you can tell from the tilapia and the balsamic vinaigrette, McCabe's hasn't stayed mired in the past, although for the most part the menu is very traditional American food. The problem is that its prices haven't stayed mired in the past, either.

Now I can't blame any restaurant for upping its prices these days; we all know what's happening to food costs. But Baltimoreans may turn to more inventive cuisines if they're paying what they see as fine-dining prices for what they consider to be glorified bar food -- especially younger customers. That's not good news for McCabe's in the long run.

elizabeth.large@baltsun.com