I VISITED THE refurbished Lexington Market last week. It felt much like the old Lexington Market that I had frequented over the years, and that was good. It was brighter and a little cleaner than it was a few years ago, before the $4.2 million worth of renovations.
With the change in appearance comes a change in tone. Alcohol does not flow as freely in the market as it did in recent years. Among the new restrictions now is a two-beer-per-customer limit at the handful of market businesses that sell suds. The small, pocket-size bottles of liquor are no longer sold in the market's liquor stores.
Even after its makeover, Lexington Market will never, thank goodness, be mistaken for a food court. The two buildings at Paca and Lexington streets in West Baltimore house a collection of stands selling prepared foods, produce, meats and seafood.
The market is a place with quirky narrow aisles and some sawdust on the floor; it's a colorful, loud bustling space that operates with a jostling efficiency. It conveys a sense of place and history. It teems with the Baltimore belief that it is best to buy from people you know, and that old (the market has been around for more than 200 years) means trustworthy.
As I was reminded last week, the market is still a prime spot for good eats. The fresh ham sandwich on rye with mustard that I got at Mary Mervis Delicatessen was moist and savory, delivering that essence of pig for a mere $2.65.
Moreover, as I waited in line with the cluster of customers at the front of the deli, there were the added delights of eyeing the tempting forms of the freshly made potato chips in a nearby stand, and then getting "honned" by one of the deli clerks.
The freshly ground horseradish that I bought from a young woman wearing a Penn State sweatshirt who worked at the Coney Island stand tasted better than homemade. I know, because I have tried and failed to grind my own horseradish.
I missed sniffing the aroma of roasted peanuts that usually wafts from the roaster set up on Eutaw Street by the Konstant candies crew. The peanut-roasting area is one of the sections of the market that is still being renovated and is slated to reopen within two weeks, I was told. Even without the enticing aroma, I bought a bag and polished off the peanuts in short order.
You shop with your eyes in the market, and the inviting display set up at Dave Green Poultry, one of the many stands in the market now operated by Korean families, convinced me to buy a whole duck there and carry it home and cook it.
But first I stopped for a bowl of oyster stew, Maryland oysters swimming in creamy broth, at Faidley's Seafood. It was a soothing antidote to the raw winter weather. As happens at Faidley's this time of year, several of the customers there were out-of-towners who were chowing down on fresh seafood before heading back home. I bumped into one fellow from Nashville, Tenn., and a couple from Ontario, Canada.
As I sipped my oyster stew, I was joined by Bill Devine who, along with and his wife Nancy, presides over the business. When I asked Devine about the market renovations, he said, "They have given the old girl a face lift." He pointed to new doors, bigger windows and neon signs.
He told me that the market's public restrooms, which in prior years had sometimes served as a lounge for unsavory types, now are manned by attendants equipped with radios to summon security if needed.
Devine, who sells beer and wine at Faidley's raw bar, spoke in favor of the limits on alcohol sales. It was a way to accommodate folks who want to enjoy alcohol with their food, he said, while maintaining a pleasant atmosphere for all market customers.
Lou Herling, who operates a grocery store and liquor dispensary in the market, said he also backs the new restrictions even though they cost him money. "Nobody got hurt more than me as far as lost liquor and beer sales go," Herling told me in a telephone interview.
Eliminating the sales of small bottles of liquor and restricting beer sales to six-packs cut his liquor and beer revenue by about 50 percent, Herling said. Yet the restrictions improved the atmosphere and clientele of his business, he said.
"It helped get the thugs out of the market," Herling said. "I am seeing new faces in the store, and I am confident that business is going to grow."
His confidence is based, he said, on two factors. One is that as development plans for the west side of town come to fruition, neighborhoods near the market will fill up with residents needing a downtown grocery store. The other factor, Herling said, is his confidence in the market's new general manager, Casper Genco Jr., who took over his summer. "He is a good communicator with good ideas," Herling said of Genco.
Not all of the Lexington Market merchants are so sure that the recent change is good. One who said he is doubtful is Paul Devine, who operates the Crab Pot stand. Paul Devine is the nephew of Faidley's Bill Devine.
The double whammy of construction work that temporarily closed off a Eutaw Street entrance near his stand and the restrictions on his once-vigorous beer sales have caused his sales at the Crab Pot to plummet, Devine told me.
While Paul Devine said he understands the long-term goal of the recent changes is to draw a "higher clientele" to the market, he is "skeptical" that it is going to happen.
He recalled that a few years ago when the Orioles and Ravens opened new downtown stadiums, there was hope that the crowds attending the games would patronize the market. But, as Devine said, "I haven't seen that."
While he and other market merchants are waiting for new customers to appear, they still have to pay the rent, he said. "I try to see both sides," Devine said. "I don't say the changes are bad, but for me, they are hard medicine."
On my way to my car parked in the market's garage, I stopped first to admire the new neon signs lining the Paca Street side of the East Market. Then I crossed Paca Street and went into the West Market to admire the mural of a Baltimore boy who was a big eater, Babe Ruth.
It had been a satisfying afternoon at the market and as often happens when you visit an old friend, you are reminded that you ought to do it more often.