When my husband and I moved to Columbia, Maryland, in 1971, we were excited to be so close to Washington, D.C., anticipating exploring new restaurants, theater, music, museums and monuments. But after a couple of disastrous forays, we found that most often scarce parking, heavy traffic, high costs, snobby restaurants and long lines marred the experience. So, when we were offered free tickets to the Baltimore Symphony, we were willing to explore a different, albeit lesser, new city. We expected a small, working-class steel town. But our first trip to the heart of Baltimore turned out to be pure magic.

We had decided to have dinner before the concert in a neighborhood the locals called Little Italy, known for its small, family-run restaurants. We found ourselves on a tiny street barely wide

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