The Most Iconic Crab Houses in Maryland

SK US WHAT OUR LAST MEAL WOULD BE, and like many a Marylander, we’ll tell you the following: There will be crabs. Of course, in The Land of Pleasant Living, there are endless ways to eat them—fried into cakes, stacked into sandwiches, studded into soups, whipped into imperial—and even more places to do so—sports bars, steakhouses, market stalls, gas stations. (Not to mention a dip-covered hot dog at Camden Yards.)

But in our opinion, other than an all-you-can-pick feast in your own backyard, there is no more iconic means of indulging in our state crustacean—the fittingly named Callinectes sapidus, aka “beautiful, savory swimmer”—than at a true-blue crab house, be it on the streets of Baltimore City or edge of the Chesapeake Bay. And you’ll know one when you’ve found it.

The tables will be wrapped in brown paper, likely already armed with a roll of paper towels and bucket for discarded shells. The scent of seafood seasoning will hang ever-present in the air —and not Old Bay, but some house version of the saltier, still-local J.O. Spice. At one point, the walls might’ve been knotty pine—mounted with a taxidermied marlin—and fingers crossed that’s still the case. On tap? National Bohemian, or some equally affordable beer. For dessert? A slice of Smith Island cake, of course. The chalkboard menu? Scrawled with a list of steamed crabs by size and price. And the surefire giveaway? Free copies of PropTalk magazine and a Keno machine by the front door.

Though no two classic crab houses are exactly alike, each is no fuss or frills and always full of nostalgia, without being drowned in kitsch for kitsch’s sake—the kind of well-seasoned patina that can only be earned with age. In fact, many of these old-school establishments have been in the family for generations, their decadently down-home food made using taken-to-the-grave recipes adorned with little more than a dollop of cream, bed of lettuce, or pack of saltines.

And it’s because of this, in part, that they’re becoming somewhat of an endangered species, as owners and regulars age out and dining trends shift toward more modern and elevated eating, a la glitzy seafood towers to be served alongside Champagne. While tourists are commonplace, even catered to, they always leave room for locals, who keep coming—summer after summer, and through winter, too—for a taste of Maryland tradition.

And since none of us knows when we’ll kick the bucket, we should waste no time in planning a trip to one of “The Classics” that are featured below and culled from across the state.

May they carry on for the long haul, and continue to be a cut—or crack of a claw—above the rest.

Opening Spread: Clockwise from left, A pay phone and bucket of crabs at The Red Roost;
the market at Chic’s Seafood; a marlin on the wall at Courtney’s.

The dining rooms at The Red Roost.

Look around The Red Roost and try to guess how much money is on the walls. (We estimated at least four figures.) Located on the Wicomico River marsh, this circa-1974 Eastern Shore crab house is a bona-fide dollar-bill bar, the kind of off-the-beaten-path honky-tonk where patrons throw back beers, scribble their names on greenbacks, then tack them to the ceiling. To leave your mark, take a 20-minute detour off Route 50 outside of Salisbury on the way toward Ocean City. You’ll pass through the streetlight-studded whistle-stop of Quantico, and then push further still, until the road reaches a long, squat, cinderblock building that was once a Purdue chicken coop.

It’s a fitting venue for Royal Farms country, with the poultry industry rivaling that of seafood on this southern stretch of the Delmarva Peninsula. And you can, indeed, pair your luscious crab imperial, lump-topped deviled eggs, and all-you-can-eat hardshells with a fair share of fried chicken —though some simply come for the pickle-back shots and frozen beach-bar cocktails. As for us, we’re partially drawn by the décor: crab-basket chandeliers, sun-bleached Bay maps, waterfowl paintings, and creamsicle-colored booths, with a trash can at the end of every paper-lined table to imply that, yes, you are going to crack at least one claw. Bring the kids because there’s an arcade in the back. But don’t waste your quarters on the pay phone—it doesn’t work anymore.

BLAST FROM THE PAST: Route 50 is a treasure trove of second-hand stuff. On your way home, stop at Foxwell’s Antiques outside of Easton to search for vintage oyster tins and Natty Boh memorabilia. Or peruse the floor-to-ceiling shelves at Unicorn Books near Cambridge to find, with a little luck, dog-eared copies of James Michener’s Chesapeake or Mrs. Kitching’s Smith Island Cookbook.

THE ROOF DECK AT L.P. STEAMERS

WHEN AN OUT-OF-TOWNER asks us where to get crabs in Baltimore City, we send them to the east side of Fort Avenue. This corner rowhome restaurant’s name is a nod to its neighborhood, Locust Point. And in the not-too-distant past, this working-class community was rooted around the city’s industrial waterfront, just a stone’s throw from Fort McHenry and the iconic Domino Sugars sign. Now, new residents and businesses have moved in, but it’s that latter landmark that keeps this circa-1996, family-owned hangout such a destination, with those glowing gold letters visible from the tiny roof deck. Downstairs, we admittedly miss the old digs—brick-glass windows, cash-covered walls, bench-style seating—which were recently removed during renovations. But from up top, over a pitcher of Natty Boh, basket of hush puppies, and heaping pile of red, hot, Bay blues, this town truly feels like Charm City. They also serve the region’s legendary “crab fluff,” deep-fried like a funnel cake into county-fair food porn, plus mini bags of Old Bay-flavored Utz. Best of all, the Charm City Circulator gives free lifts from here to the Inner Harbor.

INSIDE SCOOP: For a local rite of summer, cool down with snowballs at the Black-owned Ice Queens on Andre Street, or further down, fetch soft-serve cones from Miss Twist, Baltimore’s beloved ice cream truck turned brick-and-mortar near Hull Street.

SCENES from COURTNEY’S

Arriving at Courtney’s is like a daydream. After the slow ride to the southernmost tip of Maryland’s Western Shore, the land gets flatter, wider, and wilder until farm fields and pine forest sink into the Potomac River. At certain tides, the parking lot might actually be flooded, but it’s worth braving for one of the dinette tables at this country restaurant—the red letters on its whitewashed cinder-block façade fading into the perfect shade of peach and the menu heralding “Free Wi-Fi at the end of the Earth.”

Namesake waterman Tom Courtney still owns the place, as he has since 1979, while his daughter, Cathy, handles the front-of-house, and his wife, Julie, runs the kitchen. Even with touches from her native Filipino cuisine, this is quintessential Chesapeake home cooking, folks. Open at 9 a.m. seven days a week, you can certainly come for a scrapple-filled breakfast, but then you’d miss the lumpia egg rolls, fried rockfish bites, and soft-crab “slammer,” which deserves a spot in our personal sandwich Hall of Fame. As the name implies, it’s an out-of-the-park combination, featuring one fat crustacean, finely dredged, flashed in oil, then crisply plopped onto a fluffy roll with bacon, lettuce, tomato, and tartar. By the salad bar, the Maryland crab soup is quasi-self-serve, with as many saltine crackers as you could want.

BREAK FOR HISTORY: Historic attractions abound down here in St. Mary’s County, from St. Mary’s City, the state’s first capital, to Point Lookout State Park, where you can hitch a boat ride to Smith Island. If you’re not too full, take part in another long-held tradition and swing out to W.J. Dent & Sons in Tall Timbers for a slice of Southern Maryland’s hyper-local and hallowed “stuffed ham.”

THE MASCOT AND MENU AT CHIC’S

We know what you’re thinking: Crabs? In Western Maryland? We, too, have historically been skeptical of eating fish this far from the Bay. But that was until a tip took us on Route 70 west to Washington County, where, in the cool mountain air of working-class Hagerstown, a big red crustacean on the roof of this circa-1982 restaurant lured us inside. The once dimly lit dining room, with its captain’s chairs and leather booths, has recently been renovated with more modern features, but it’s still the spot for locals and, frankly, anyone searching for legit seafood this side of the state.

Second-generation owner Ernest Schuhly cut his teeth at a Catonsville seafood market before moving to Appalachia, and it shows. Our fresh-steamed crabs were some of the best we’ve had (noticeably not reheated, as has become common practice in our neck of the woods to meet the extreme demand). But as the menu warns, most dishes come fried in these parts. And that’s a good thing: Their decadent soft-shells are divinely spiced and their hand-cut fries will transport you straight to Ocean City.

IN-THE-KNOW DESSERT: Save room for dessert at Krumpe’s Do-Nuts, a 90- year-old bakery that sells hot-out-of-the-fryer doughnuts nightly from 7-11 p.m. You might even catch your waitress there after her shift.

CRABS, PRICES, AND MALLETS AT CANTLER’S

For first-timers, it’s not always easy to find Cantler’s, located down a sinewy string of residential backroads often beleaguered by Bay Bridge traffic in the outskirts of Annapolis. And yet, one of the last times we went, there was a literal tour bus in the busy parking lot, its passengers all waiting for a table, and we can’t say we blame them. They, like us, will travel for first-class crabs—which is the only rating we’d give to this real-deal fixture, situated down on sleepy Mill Creek near the Severn River.

Founded by its namesake waterman in 1974, the restaurant has become a local mainstay and its waterfront pier remains a stop for white workboats to off-load their daily harvests, which then get cooked on the spot for loads of locals, too. The elevated deck is an ideal position to watch soft-shells get snatched from their dockside shedding tanks for your sandwiches or platters. But dining inside is its own experience. Devoted fans belly up to the bar for O's, Ravens, or Navy games, and the dark wood-paneled dining room is fit for both decade-spanning families and dive-loving salty dogs. Everywhere you look are portraits of past governors, chalkboard menus of daily specials, and extra-large rolls of brown paper at the ready for their constant flurry of finger-pricking feasts.

Crack open an ice-cold can of local craft beer, then dig into the rambling menu rooted in family recipes. We’re suckers for their spicy Maryland crab soup, plus the buckets of fresh-steamed littleneck clams with drawn butter and baskets of clam strips—an essential order on every visit. Fresh-cut, hand-breaded, and fried to crispy, crunchy perfection, they might be the best of their kind in the entire state. Remember them with a souvenir matchbook on your way out the door. Not that you’ll forget.

TIDAL TUNES: After a seafood-rich supper, help yourself digest by boogying the night away to live music at Stan & Joe’s Saloon, a busy watering hole beloved by sailors and city slickers alike on West Street in downtown Annapolis.

CRABS AT MAY’S

The first time we went to May's, we’d just wrapped a chilly weekend of camping in the nearby Catoctin Mountains, and their cream of crab soup was so simple and comforting—chock-full of sweet meat with a dash of sherry and spice—it tasted like our mom made it. Which was not surprising, given that, from the friendly waitresses and shabby-chic knickknacks to the outside sign reminiscent of a grandmother’s handwriting, this locally owned, circa-1992 seafood house is the town’s de facto family dining room.

Here, with country music on the stereo and rolls of paper towels on every table, couples split buckets of beer, friends clink claw-garnished bloody Marys, and all walks of Frederick gather for birthdays, retirements, sports celebrations, and sheer fun until May’s closes for the season on Christmas Eve. Located past the car dealerships and tattoo-piercing parlors on Urbana Pike, the massive menu has something for everybody, ranging from Margaritaville-worthy appetizers like “bang bang” shrimp to broiled rockfish dinner platters and all-you-can-eat specials, offered seven days a week. During warm weather, we’re partial to the back patio, a few feet from giant kettles that cook bushels of blue crabs to order. When it’s on offer, order the smoked chicken from Papa O’s BBQ, also made on-site.

SOLID SIPS: It was a sad day when Frederick’s Flying Dog Brewery relocated to New York last year, but a 20-minute dogleg off I-70 will take you to Old Westminster Winery, a family-run vineyard that turns out some of the best bottles in the state.

THE FAMOUS MOUNTED MARLIN AND EXTERIOR AT SCHULTZ'S

When it comes to listing all the reasons to love this grand-dame dining establishment, where do we even begin? The mounted marlin. The knotty pine walls. The red pleather banquettes and silver-rimmed linoleum. The lone pool table, constant Keno, and copies of PropTalk and SpinSheet by the front door. The list could go on and on—and it lengthens every time we head out of the city and over to Old Eastern Avenue until we reach this fat brick building on a quiet corner in Essex, its bright yellow sign heralding “SEAFOOD & STEAKS,” only a hook’s cast from Middle River.

This family-owned, nautically themed, circa-1969 chophouse never changes, and thank goodness for that, as it has become a surf-and-turf institution, known for platters of fresh-steamed crabs, lump-topped porterhouses, and ole Bawlmer standbys like sour beef and dumplings. In 2017, the James Beard Foundation named it a coveted “America’s Classic,” but we already knew that. Beneath the fading red awning, amid the diamond-shaped windowpanes, order a to-the-brim martini for only five bucks and sip it slowly while eating a dozen hard-shells, hauled in from local watermen and lavished in a proprietary blend of spices and salt. Just don’t leave without a to-go quart of their half-and-half soup. We put ours in the freezer to pull out as sustenance through the depths of winter.

BRIGHT LIGHTS: Around the corner, find another Americana icon at Bengies Drive-In. Throughout the summer, come for just-released blockbusters and cinematic masterpieces like Grease and Jaws. Pick up popcorn from the snack bar and revel in the fleeting days of summer beneath the Baltimore County stars.

SHORE SIGHTS AT THE CRAB CLAW

We’re not sure if there’s any crab house on this estuary more iconic than The Crab Claw, parked like a steamboat on the Eastern Shore’s Miles River, waiting on its revolving door of “come heres” and “from heres” who both scuttle in for nostalgic seafood that hasn’t changed much since the first service in 1965. Though we adore all the details, we rarely dine inside, with its red-and-white checkerboard tablecloths, taxidermied waterfowl, and autographed headshots of guests like Orioles Hall of Famer Rick Dempsey and former President George W. Bush. Instead, the outdoor deck is our preferred perch for its umbrellaed picnic tables and paper placemats that detail the 4-1-1 of dissecting our storied shellfish, which are brought in by local watermen and steamed right there on the restaurant’s dock.

This is The Land of Pleasant Living at its finest, folks—at the water’s edge, listening to osprey overhead, watching a bevy of boats roll (with the restaurant providing slips for patrons, should you decide to BYOB). Begin with a fresh-squeezed orange crush or locally brewed house ale, then forgo the tourist’s snow crab (shudder) for our state’s local delights. The Bay’s blues come every which way here, including as a fried hard crab, which gets stuffed with a crab cake, battered, then blitzed into an over-the-top, old-school delicacy. If you go for the feast, act like certain Eastern Shoremen and add the side of pickles and cheese.

LUNCH ‘N’ LEARN: Right next door, the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum is a treasure trove of estuary history, with a historic lighthouse, scenic cruises, and an impressive working shipyard.

ALL THE DETAILS AT CAPTAIN BILLY’S

Once you get past the Capital Beltway, it’s a seamless drive down south to this circa-1947 stalwart, located a mere five minutes off the fast-flying Route 301. But tucked into a calm cove off the Potomac River, Captain Billy’s is a world away from its surrounding suburban sprawl— a last slice of tidewater life not yet swallowed up by D.C. For many Marylanders, it’s not a hole-in- the-wall shack but this sort of timeworn seafood palace—plopped on a prime piece of waterfront real estate with the kind of homey service where waitresses Sharpie their names on your brown-papered table—that makes the ultimate crab house. “I don’t know why you even get menus!” one cracked to the old couple behind us, their eyes already set on the Yuengling-battered haddock.

Inside or out, the view is lovely, looking out over the tides toward the Virginia Line, but we have a soft spot for the dining-room booths, with their baskets of saltines and paper placemats featuring ads for local marinas and Amish furniture. This way, too, we can watch the bar scene, where potent tiki drinks get poured beneath a tiny life-ring buoy that reads “Cocktail Time.”

Crab covers most dishes, and we gravitate toward the jalapeño crab bombs with sweet chile sauce, the greasy spoon-style crab melt on a buttered English muffin, and the deviled crab dinner, with spicy cakes served in those retro tinfoil shells. Cap it all off with a slice of Smith Island cake, and if you have the chance, chat with Captain Billy’s daughter, Celine, who now runs the place, and is sometimes posted up by the penny candy sold at the front door.

NECK-DEEP NOSTALGIA: Near La Plata, a stretch of Charles County highway—dotted with old motor lodges, drive-thru liquor stores, and the rogue biker bar—feels like a Jack Kerouac-ian timewarp. The neon-lit, circa-1952 Bel Alton Motel is our favorite pit-stop by far.

NOTHING BUT NOSTALGIA AT Crisfield

Crisfield Seafood is not a crab house, per se. In fact, there’s not a hard-shell in the place, unless you count what they call “poppers”—about a dozen impeccably prepared claws, meant to be dunked in a spicy mustard sauce then scraped between your teeth like an artichoke petal at a circa-1945 cocktail party (the year this place opened). But we’re willing to bend the rules a bit for this D.C.-area institution that is, indeed, a travel back in time. Think tin ceilings, tiled floors, and teal walls decorated with fading photographs of the politicians (Parris Glendening) and pop stars (Jimmy Buffett) who have flocked here over the decades for a mid-century Mid-Atlantic menu that is profusely packed with crab.

Enter beneath its epic neon sign on Georgia Avenue, where the smell of Old Bay-style seasoning fills the city streets. Then grab a seat in the bustling side dining room or at the well-worn bar, at which regulars slurp down oysters, shucked right there on the mahogany.

Named for the Eastern Shore town once known as “the crab capital of the United States,” Crisfield tips its hat to both sides of the Chesapeake, all the way down to Norfolk, Virginia, where seafood preparations tend to swim in butter. Open for lunch and dinner, it’s a DMV mecca for throwback seafood salads, imperial-lacquered fish, and—our choice— creamy, dreamy crab cakes that arrive on dinner china with plain-and-simple sides like sliced tomatoes or baked potatoes wrapped in tinfoil. Though we’d be remiss to not mention the shoestring French fries, too, which give McDonald’s a run for their money.

HIDDEN-GEM HIKE: On your way there or back, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service’s Patuxent Research Refuge is a 10-minute trek off I-95 with 13,000 acres of protected wildlife habitat for walking off your meal between sunrise and sunset.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

A few more old faithfuls for good measure.