Onion Rings

Briana CaBell didn't need a physician to tell her she had to do something about her diet. An admitted carb-fats-salt junkie who's been overweight as long as she can remember, CaBell has known for years that she needed to mend her food ways, to stop thinking of salty, deep-fried onion rings as a vegetable staple and, especially, curb her fast-food intake. The 30-year-old single Laurel resident said the time constraints of working two jobs, plus sharing a small catering business with her mother, squeezing in college courses and maintaining a schedule of church activities keep her on the run from before dawn to late in the evening.

I think I could feel my heart actually shudder for a moment as the cook at Nick's Submarines scooped out a blob of butter and plopped it onto some onions beginning to heat up on the grill. Next to the pile of onions simmered a big pile of thinly sliced beef, which she battered into submission with an 18-inch-long chopper. Before long she layered on the cheese - the bright yellow kind, not the familiar provolone - and, finally, yet another heart-stopping cheese steak had come to life from Nick's grill.

We all need to take a drive to Pleasantville Road every once in a while. At the end of the trip is a restaurant where the clock has stopped, where no one has ever heard of calories or cholesterol and where the list of appetizers includes both hot apple fritters and snails in garlic butter.And something as trendy as tiramisu would never, never be on the dessert menu. (OK, it has sneaked onto the pastry tray, but it's not official. A nice, old-fashioned apple strudel with ice cream is official.

It may have an ordinary rowhouse exterior, but inside, Kisling's is a noisy, friendly bar attracting crowds of hungry and thirsty patrons. The place successfully bridges the gap between the old Southeast Baltimore and the new, hipper Canton. At the intersection of Aliceanna, Boston and Chester streets, it's even geographically on the cusp. On our visits, we had the chance to meet some fixed-to-the-bar old-timers as well as a 3-year-old who happily announced what he was having (mussels)

WHENEVER I FIND myself feeling nostalgic, I alter my commute to work. Instead of using U.S. 1 to drive the 25 miles from Bel Air to Baltimore, I take the more scenic approach down Harford Road. Once within the city limits, it's just a short hop to the site once occupied by the Hot Shoppe Restaurant. There, my head immediately shifts into rewind. Memories spin out of control: hoop skirts, bobby sox, saddle shoes, white bucks, penny loafers, crew cuts, pony tails, khaki pants with a buckle in the back, V-neck sweaters, corduroy jackets in school colors, souped-up jalopies with glass-packed mufflers, hamburgers, french fries, milkshakes and onion rings.

Heavy Seas Alehouse is scheduled to open officially on Wednesday, taking over the Tack Factory space formerly occupied by Tsunami and Diablita. The key word is "officially. " The new restaurant, the first to carry the name of the popular Baltimore-based beer brand, opened its doors quietly on Feb. 7, a week ahead of its announced opening. But word got out. A day after its stealth opening, the restaurant was nicely filled. The bar was fully occupied, as were many of the bar area's tables, which include two long, community-style high tables.

LAST WEEK, I came home with a pair of pantyhose given to me by another woman, and my wife didn't hit me with a frying pan. It happened the day the Vidalia Onion Lady came to town. Mary Louise Lever is that lady. A resident of Rome, Ga., she travels to various cities passing out pantyhose, recipes and wisdom about Vidalia onions. Vidalia onions are like Southern belles -- they are exceptionally sweet but bruise easily. The crop, which by law can be labeled Vidalia only if it was grown in one of 20 southeast Georgia counties, should begin arriving in Baltimore-area markets by next week, Lever said.

If you're inviting company over for the premiere of the HBO Beyonce documentary on Saturday night -- isn't everybody? -- here's a sandwich for you to make your guests, courtesy of Hooplaha.com - Life With a Smile. You can find the recipe and photos here . There's even a step-by-step video. The Beyonce sandwich stacks Popeyes fried chicken, three strips of bacon, hot sauce, blue cheese crumbles and jelly on Texas toast. There's some logic at play. Texas Toast celebrates the Houston native's home state.

A certain desultory approach to service at Pacific Seafood in Baltimore's Mount Vernon neighborhood did not bode well for dinner on a recent Monday night. Nor did the fact that the soft-shell crab dinner listed on the menu was no longer offered, as the bored cashier informed us. But we forged ahead and ordered an eclectic range of food, from crab cakes and fries to pizza and cheesecake. For the most part, we had a satisfying meal. Pacific is a straightforward place with no seats for waiting.

Sidney "Sid" Mandell, the gregarious former owner of a large, New York-style Woodmoor kosher delicatessen that for decades served up juicy, hot pastrami and corned beef sandwiches and was known for its famous "Mandell's Four by Four," died Tuesday in his sleep at his son's Stevenson home. He was 93. Mr. Mandell, the son of immigrant parents from Austria and Russia, was raised on Bond Street in East Baltimore. "They were difficult times and the family, as most immigrants, lived in cramped quarters with bare necessities," said his son, Steve Mandell.