It's one thing to brandish a blackboard and call yourself a gastro-whatever. It's another to realize the true firepower of when chalk strikes slate. The menu board mounted next to the men's room at Peter's Inn always delivers a spectacle of white-trash attitude and quirky innkeeper's exotica, making it as much fun to follow as the hot dog races on the Jumbotron down at the Yard. Short on space; big with moxy, Peter's, with its galley-sized kitchen, no doubt draws from a bottomless pit of inspiration. You can get succulent braised pork belly one day and tuna nachos the next. Its little side—Tennessee grits—and its little asides—"add on avocado 50 cents, you're worth it"—crammed on the board all adds to the ruckus that makes the crazy ship that is Peters truly bona fide Baltimore.