Current Space Garden Bar — Restaurant in Baltimore

An outdoor bar. Kind people. All sorts of different things going on. Art, poetry, music, a bit of a variety show on the night that I went.

In a certain light the place almost reminds me of the piazza bars of my Roma, my home, in Italia, in Trastevere up the hill from the river where I spent my youth. No, we didn’t have much; we practically raised ourselves. Me, my fratelli Angelo and Michele, and my sisters Aurora, Liliana, and poor sweet Faviola. I'll say it right up front: the river took her—Favi—the Tevere: river of my youth, of life and death, river of empires, my confessore, amore mio, my monster.

The bar—you’ll have to go through the alley to find it, a fine place. I can’t imagine what it was before. A giant open pit next door—one should be careful not to go into such places after dark. As I was saying, though, she’s gone. Faviola, heaven, if I could see her now, she was as good as bread in all her days. It breaks me in half to know she must have thought it better to throw herself into the dam, and disappear into that black abyss that was the Tevere, that mythic serpent of a river bursting forth from the earthen font of Fumailo and dumping out at Ostia back to the sea. Better to end her short time on earth there than carry on with the sorry lot of us, but sweet Favi never made it to Ostia and the sea. They found her turning about, lifeless, amongst the bottles and debris of the dam beneath Ponte Cestia. Tourists spotted her, those plumpen hordes. Sure, they have their economic purpose, but for the most part they trampled our sacred shrines.

Regardless, the Current Space Garden Bar seems to bring it up in me. A fine place—nice music, etc. But Favi. It’s lucky she wasn’t wearing her mother’s jewelry that night, or the street people would have stripped her and maybe worse, sadly no different from our kind really but no, we weren’t thieves, or bandits—I know what you’re thinking. We always made our Lira performing: acrobatics, my brothers Angelo and Michele flying, those lithe leopards, some nights performing for no one, sometimes for the whole crowded piazza. Michele and Angelo operated the folding table which they made into a kind of trampoline in the midnight alleys off of the piazza Santa Maria or Campo de Fiori. Goodness they were strong, and supple too, my brothers. Like panthers. Not so much myself, you'll notice. My body aches like a rheumatic, it's true, simply from existing. From a sedentary, unremarkable life.

I think you’ll enjoy the Current. It’s a diverse place. Artists, musicians, some of them remind me of friends from home, of family, of my brothers. What jesters they were, my brothers. Michele would scold me when I’d flub a note on the trumpet during our performances. Trumpet, my instrument—my one and only role, though some say I was our leader, being the oldest. Though I did make my mistakes, as I was saying, and when I did he’d murmor, beneath his breath, “Umbi, pobrecito, hai la faccia di un pesce bollito (you have the face of a boiled fish).” No, I didn’t play cheap Hollywood themes, only songs from our father’s days, or ones that I’d improvise. That horn had magic. A subtle but important punctuation to the physical display and acts of daring staged upon the cobblestone of those nights brimming with terror and promise. I still have it—the trumpet—and would play it for not the sweet sad memories it brings of Favi and of the distance to my heart, Roma, and all her jewels—many of them trampled now, but still, you’ll admit, a magical, ageless place. And no, I haven’t gone back, if you’re wondering.

The Current Space Garden Bar. It’s a favorable bar in a passable town—no Roma, that’s for sure. A town that could use some love, most would admit. Occasionally you’ll chance upon someone who looks up from their boots in these forgotten streets.

All that aside, a nice bar, and welcoming people, the few of them I met. Anyway,...

This is the kind of place that every city, town, or community should want to have. An open-air, backyard vibe for community members to come together over artists both professional and amateur. The bar area is well designed and the connected art gallery is a great touch. I also biked here from Fed Hill and felt safe parking my bike just outside the gate and along the way. Come check...

If I could leave zero I would.. it gets worse and worse every week, the city won’t do anything about it. There are only apartments around this “establishment” and it disturbs what used to be a quiet neighborhood, and quiet block. No idea how this is allowed to operate, especially after hours. Blasting music after 11:30pm on weeknights is insane. Have...