Dining for $25 or less: Suburban House

By Karen Nitkin | Special to The Sun

February 28, 2008

In Yiddish, a "fresser" is a glutton. At Suburban House, a fresser is a valued customer.

This Jewish coffee shop devotes a section of the menu to what it calls the Fresser's Club, offering sandwiches overstuffed with just about any salted, garlicky meat imaginable, including pastrami, turkey, tongue and brisket.

But even entrees not in the "fresser" section are larger than life. The matzo balls, for example, are baseball-sized and take up almost an entire bowl. Order the soup, and you'll get one bowl with matzo balls and another with golden-yellow chicken broth and soft noodles.

Once combined, the result is a warming and satisfying treat sure to banish any sniffle or sneeze. Like so much at Suburban House, which has been dishing out Jewish food for more than 20 years, the matzo balls are made the old-fashioned way. The schmaltz (otherwise known as chicken fat) that holds these circles of matzo meal together imparts a subtle chicken flavor and a feather-light texture.

Other entrees are just as large but not quite as excellent. A chicken salad sandwich ($7.89), so tall that biting into it is a physical impossibility, starts with a good idea. The white meat had been cleaved into large chunks, and then dressed with little more than a light coating of mayonnaise. But the chicken was a bit dry, and the end result lacked pizazz. Toasting the rye bread it was served on would have helped, at least adding some crunch. The saving grace here was a tart and fresh-tasting mayo-free cole slaw and a crunchy, satisfying half-sour pickle.

The fish in a fried fish platter ($8.99) was fresh-tasting and mild, but it was encased in batter that was a touch too greasy. Accompanied by unexceptional french fries, this meal seemed to meet the standard of an office cafeteria. Only the cole slaw and pickle saved it.

A cheese steak ($8.99) is about as unkosher as you can get, and the version at Suburban House was simply workmanlike, filled with beef that was not particularly juicy or flavorful.

Desserts at Suburban House are mostly made on the premises, and include a changing roster of pies, cakes and other goodies, all served in ridiculously large slices. Lemon meringue pie boasts a nice light topping, but a faint hint of chemical taste in the lemon base.

Better was the Pimlico pie, a towering concoction of yellow cake with custard layers and a rich spackling of fudge icing on top. Suburban House is also one of the few places in the Baltimore region that serves egg creams. These are made with neither eggs nor cream, but are instead a kind of chocolate soda made with milk, chocolate syrup and seltzer. My version was more sweet than bubbly, but satisfying anyway.

The restaurant looks as though it hasn't changed much since owner Joseph Stowe took over 22 years ago. Mirrors make the booth-filled dining room look larger than it is, but also evoke the interior design of an 1980s-era Miami condo. To get to the dining room, you have to walk past the mouthwatering deli counter, which looks more like a throwback to 1940s New York. Giant slabs of rainbow cake, good garlicky pickles, and enormous briskets and turkey breasts all vie for attention here.

Though Suburban House isn't kosher, it celebrates its Jewishness with an endearing enthusiasm. The paper place mats on the tables provide a "basic Yiddish dictionary," listing real definitions like mispochen (troublemaker) and kreplach (a kind of ravioli) as well as jokey ones, like goy (someone who pays retail).

Though it's not perfect, Suburban House is a tradition that deserves its affectionate following. Pikesville without Suburban House would be like a corned-beef sandwich without the rye bread.