There's no question this is crab city

DUNDALK, Md. -- While it continues to struggle with the problems endemic to urban centers, Baltimore has done a terrific job in recent decades of shedding its image as a place you'd visit only because you were too tired to drive another hour south to Washington. Now, tourists think of Baltimore as an upscale destination, with its Inner Harbor development, Oriole Park at Camden Yards, and a growing array of expensive hotels and restaurants.

To the folks who grew up here, though, it's still Balmer (isn't a ``t'' supposed to be in there?) in the state of Merlin (like the magician). And, for all its new-found culinary finery, the city's best eating is still very traditional -- and messy.

We're talking tables covered with brown paper. We're talking knives and mallets. We're talking about foisting meat from shell to mouth with your fingers. We're talking beer by the pitcher.

We're talking crabs.

They're available year-round nowadays, flown in from the Gulf of Mexico or other regions, and served at just about any seafood restaurant in the area. And these monsters are mighty good, steamed and seasoned like only Marylanders do it.

But during the summer crab season, which means now, the blue crustaceans are pulled from the Chesapeake Bay. That's when the eating gets really good, and when small crab houses and seasonal restaurants pop up all over the place.

It's no secret that Baltimore is Crab City, of course, and tourists gobble them up. They tend to go to just a handful of the most famous restaurants, however, like Obryki's Crab House on East Pratt Street and Bo Brooks Crab House out Belair Road.

While those establishments deserve their reputations as terrific crab houses, locals know that there's equally fine, less crowded, and often less expensive shell-breaking to be done elsewhere. In this case, much of ``elsewhere'' is a half-hour's drive from downtown, in the working-class communities on and near Eastern Avenue northeast of the city.

To name just a few, there's Ross' Crab House on Merritt Boulevard here in Dundalk, the Crab Quarters on Eastern Boulevard in neighboring Essex, and Costa's Inn on Northpoint Boulevard just inside the city limits.

Most of the traditional crab houses, like Bill's Terrace Inn on Eastern Avenue in Dundalk, serve their crabs with just a blend of Old Bay Seafood Seasoning (the base for almost all the locals). But many jazz up the mix, to very good effect.

At Jimmy's Famous Seafood, across from the General Motors plant on Holabird Avenue in Dundalk, the crusty layer encasing their crabs consists of rock salt and Old Bay. The taste sensation is unique, intensely spicey, and marvelous.

The dining room at Jimmy's is charmingly old-fashioned. The tables, surprisingly, are covered with white cloths, but those are quickly replaced by brown sheets of paper when you order your crabs.

A dozen medium critters go for $25, and large for $35; if you call ahead and you're lucky, you might be able to snag 12 jumbos for $45. Those prices have about doubled over the last decade or so, but you can still feed a good-sized group for a pretty reasonable price since they go a long way.

Some other items on the menu aren't a hit: The crab soup is too corn-starchy, and the ``home-made'' onion rings taste like they recently left a grocer's freezer. But the only necessary accompaniments for a crab dinner -- cole slaw and french fries -- are just right, and the crabs alone are worth the trip.

They arrive, bright red under their tawny spices, on a huge tray, and are dumped unceremoniously in the center of the table. Just like they're supposed to be.

``Crabs are still a big part of what makes Baltimore, Baltimore,'' said Carl Krepp, one of the restaurant's managers, as a batch of satisfied customers licked their fingers.

Or did he say Balmer?