Review: Amedeo's in Little Italy
After a long, self-imposed hiatus, Midnight Sun contributor Owl Meat is back with Tipsy Tuesdays.
Psst ... I found an oasis among the dining hubbub of Little Italy. Don't tell anyone.
Osteria da Amedeo popped up on my radar a few months ago. It's referred to as a wine bar, but it isn't really. it's an osteria, an Italian tavern that serves simple food and wine.
So much of Amedeo's charm is about what it is not. Not an oenophile snobfest. No oo'ing, cooing, or gurgling over Chateau Loutre Songeuse. If you wanna get your Jäger on with your brahs, go someplace else.
Wanna troll the skankosphere? Not here. Wanna slip into an appletini-induced coma? Nope. It's a normal bar that feels complementary to the LI scene, one where there are no gimmicks, forced vibe, or cliché decorations.
When fellow Little Italians recommended it, I asked, "that place where Pepino's was?" That was the last osteria in the neighborhood. I put it off because I couldn't see how they could do much with that dive bar.
But I dropped by and was blown away by the transformation. Then I did something selfish - I kept it to myself. For a while.
What? Did you think Owl Meat was gone? Nah, he was just on a brief hiatus, doing his Owly thing. He's back now -- and slicker than ever. 
Here is Owl Meat with a Midnight Sun report on hops, gruit and the history of beer ingredients:
This post doesn't even need an intro. Here's Owl Meat Gravy with another hilarious installment:
Years ago, we 
A personal confession: One time after a nasty breakup in college, I played "It Makes No Difference" by the Band on loops, hundreds of times. That song's a gut-wrencher. Today, Owl Meat tackles breakup songs in all their guilt, rage and glory:
After 
We don't cover food that much on Midnight Sun (it's usually Dining@Large territory), but today, I'd like to make an exception. 
And here I just thought some people got embarrassed when they drank. In this week's guest column, Owl Meat examines the red-faced drinking phenomenon. Just like in poker, having a flush can work to one's advantage. Owl Meat? Are you there? Ah, here he is:
In today's column, guest poster Owl Meat lashes out against the V-Day industry. Give in to your anger, Owl Meat:
In today's column, Owl Meat draws a clever comparison between a classic TV show and the classic, tragic art of hitting on the server. 
I've never actually ended a relationship in a public place. I hate the idea of sitting down at a table and going through the motions with someone while all the time I know I want to call it off. In today's column, Owl Meat meditates on the idea of breaking up at a restaurant or bar.
I hope, for the sake of the people involved, that the conversation near the end of Owl Meat's column didn't actually happen. But knowing this city, I have a feeling it did. Which makes it pretty freaking awesome. Read on, Midnight Sunners: 
Back when I worked at the college newspaper, we would have occasional parties after the work was finished for the night. We'd sneak a keg into the office, set up some beer pong and such. I always kept my head down at work and didn't goof off. But I went all-out for these parties. 
After a two-week vacation, Owl Meat is back in business, with this post about music in bars. Bring it on, OMG: 
If I had to guess, I'd say I'm a regular at a couple South Baltimore bars, just because I live in the neighborhood. I'm not a fixture -- I'm a firefly, as Owl Meat would put it. 
Owl Meat Gravy has come up with a great bar discussion topic. Personally, I'd love to have a beer with George Martin or David Bowie. Take it away, Owlie:
This week, Owl Meat has somehow stumbled upon a particularly wacky group of people called Furries (it takes one to know one, Owly). Here, OMG exposes the underbelly of this hairy subset:
Oh man. Owl Meat's guest column brings back some rather nasty memories of bad tequila circa freshman year of college. I was soured on it for years. Here's Owl Meat: 
What happens after last call? Owl Meat has a few ideas. Here he is:
I couldn't help but chuckle at some of the delicious- and repulsive-sounding meals that Owl Meat came up with for this week's Tipsy Tuesdays. Football + grilled mascot = awesome. 
My, my, I've certainly regretted breaking the seal too early. Take it away, Owl Meat: 
I've played (and won, of course) my fair share of drinking games. But I've never heard of Pukes and Staggers. That's probably a good thing. Owl Meat has all the details: 
This week, Owl Meat Gravy tackles one of the saddest (but truest) parts of Baltimore's nightlife scene: the service. I'm actually not surprised that most of these examples are based on real life experiences. Take it away, OMG:
Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like you to give a warm round of applause to Owl Meat Gravy, who, for the forseeable future, will be writing a weekly column called Tipsy Tuesdays. 
Take it away, guest poster Owl Meat: 
I had to read this guest post from Owl Meat Gravy twice, I was so shocked this even exists: 
Here is Owl Meat Gravy with a rather spooky guest post: 
And now, dear readers, Owl Meat wonders just what's in the gullets of those Somali pirates we all know and hate: 
From the fingertips of Midnight Sun guest poster Owl Meat Gravy comes the first in a series of off-kilter bar and drink observations.
Erik Maza is a features reporter at the Baltimore Sun. He writes for several sections of the Sun paper and contributes weekly columns on music and nightlife. He also writes and edits the Midnight Sun blog. He often covers entertainment, business, and the business of entertainment. Occasionally, he writes about Four Loko, The Block, the liquor board, and those who practice "
