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September 23, 2025

Centreville Spy

Nonpartisan and Education-based News for Centreville

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Mid-Shore Food: Hooper’s Island’s Old Salty Celebrates 40 Years as Community Pillar

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Old Salty’s restaurant, about to celebrate it’s 40th anniversary, has been a beloved Hoopers Island community anchor since opening in the early 1980s. But, long before being refurbished into a famed down home haven for crabcake lovers near and far, the structure originally served as a schoolhouse for the tightly knit community at Fishing Creek, on the first of the three Hoopers Islands. 

While more than ever a local favorite, 75 percent of customers coming through Old Salty’s doors are now actually newcomers, attracted to the area by growing media coverage for nearby attractions such as Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge and the Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad National Park. 

According to current owners Mike and Melinda Kerr Perry, one recent Old Salty’s first timer arrived via a word of mouth recommendation during a visit to New York City. Another hauling from the Netherlands spotted an Old Salty’s ad while in Washington, D.C., and decided to make the trip. 

It was under founding owners, JoAnn and Wayne Ashton, that the eatery first became an Island mainstay. (The sea captain on the sign is a picture of JoAnn’s dad, local waterman Ben Parks.)

It continued to thrive under second owner Jay Newcomb, former District One Dorchester County Councilman and President. 

That’s when the Perrys, then among the growing number of Island ‘weekenders’, became loyal customers. “From the day we walked in this place, we were basically in love with it,” Mike recalled. 

The couple would privately joke with Newcomb, that if he ever sold the place, it had better be to them. Two years ago, when Newcomb was ready to wind down his many varied responsibilities, he felt assured the Perrys would be the kind of devoted caretakers the restaurant deserved, and the deal was done, including the popular Old Salty’s recipes.

Though originally from rural Anne Arundel County and not Island natives, the couple are totally committed to keeping faith and doing their best by the place that’s become their adopted ‘home away from home.’ 

Melinda, 50, grew up in Hanover, what she calls “a little, tiny, tiny town just outside the airport loop,” without “MTV, or cable, or anything,” she laughs. But her parents lived in a house right next door to her grandparents on the same property. Her first job was as a restaurant dishwasher, then working her way through the kitchen. That was before becoming a jeweler for 28 years, holding down top management positions with Jared the Galleria.

Mike, 52, was raised five miles away in Severn, chopping tobacco and vegetables, on land his family has lived and worked on for 160 years. He, too, had early restaurant training, “cutting my teeth” cooking in an Elks Club kitchen during his teens. He’s gone on to own several businesses. 

As Baltimore’s urban commercial sprawl began spreading further out, things there started to change. But on Hoopers Island, they rediscovered the life they’d known and loved.

“That’s what we feel like we found here, living in a complete neighborhood of family, it’s what drew us here,” Mike added.

With extended family living on Hoopers Island in the 1970s, Mike was a frequent visitor. In 1986, he and his brothers bought their own property there. As he and Melinda became a couple, they began coming over, falling more and more in love with the area, eventually buying a house,  becoming Old Salty’s patrons, and now, owners, who want to give back to the community.

“This entire area has kept this place in business for 40 years, and that’s a heck of a feat,” Mike noted.

To that end, they decided to do something special to mark the milestone and return some of the longstanding love. 

After a year of planning, the Old Salty’s 40th Anniversary Bluegrass Festival gets underway Saturday, May 20 at 1 p.m. The free community event with no cover charge will be open to all. Artisans, vendors, and kids activities are on the menu, along with live music featuring Billy Harrison & The Haywire, Cooking with Fire, and Across the Track.

A 30 x 30 foot tent will be set up in the waterfront field behind the restaurant, and people are welcome to bring chairs and blankets. 

Food and drink options for purchase will include a limited Old Salty’s menu, including, of course, crab cake, from a mobile food trailer; Fat Truck Brewing of Centreville will also be on hand.

The festival represents an ongoing initiative of the Perrys to build on the restaurant’s solid reputation as a dining destination, while adding to it’s repertoire of events for locals and visitors alike.

Live music is now on the menu each weekend, both at the Salty Hooker Tiki Bar, added out back last March, and indoors at the Back Creek Bar. 

On May 5-6, Old Salty’s also hosted it’s first annual fishing tournament, The Salty Hooker Throwdown. 

The venue’s large indoor hall, the former school auditorium, has recently offered some decidedly nontraditional special event fundraisers, carefully billed as adults only programs, such as January’s Bingo with the Boyz and April’s Drag Bingo Brunch. Both drew big crowds and raised sizable sums in support of  Patriot Point, the Veteran Refuge on Taylor’s Island.

“Having something as important as Patriot Point in our backyard, and being able to support it, is truly amazing,” Mike added, noting that both he and Melinda have military members in their families.

Another point of pride for the Perrys is providing fresh, seasonal local seafood and produce. “A customer came in last week and asked for oysters on the half shell; I had to tell him, sorry, that’s over,” Mike mentioned with a smile. 

They’re grateful for ongoing support from the Dorchester County Chamber of Commerce, which is holding a ribbon cutting ceremony Friday, May 19 at noon to kick off the 40th Anniversary, including all three Old Salty’s owners to thank the community together. 

For more information, visit Old Salty’s Facebook Page.

Debra Messick is a retired Dorchester County Public Library associate and lifelong freelance writer. A transplanted native Philadelphian, she has enjoyed residing in Cambridge MD since 1995.

 

 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Some of Talbot Mentors’ Young Scholars take a Look at Washington College

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Students from the Talbot Mentors Scholars Program, accompanied by one mentee and a guest student, recently embarked on a day-long tour of Washington College. The purpose of the tour was to provide them with a glimpse of academic and campus life beyond high school.

This tour was organized as part of an ongoing partnership between Talbot Mentors and Washington College, aimed at exposing young scholars to various academic pathways. Another component of the partnership is a tutoring program wherein Washington College students provide academic support to Talbot Mentor students in the areas of language arts and math.

The tour was led by Pat Nugent, the Director of Civic Engagement at Washington College, along with Kentavius Jones, the Director of the Talbot Mentor Program, and Dr. Allyson DeMaagd, the College Success Manager. The students had the opportunity to explore different academic centers, including The Writing Center, O’Neill Literary House and Press, as well as the dormitories and other campus facilities. The day concluded with lunch at the college dining hall.

For the past 25 years, Talbot Mentors has been committed to addressing barriers to success for Talbot County students through nurturing mentoring relationships. In 2020, they introduced the Scholars Program (formerly known as Mid-Shore Scholars) as a key initiative. This program holds significant importance within the organization, with the ultimate goal of ensuring that 100% of their scholars gain admission to college, remain enrolled, and successfully graduate.

The meeting took place at the Rose O’Neill Literary House, where author and Assistant Director Roy Kesey introduced the students to “the writers’ life” and explained why the Lit House cultural hub was a valuable experience for aspiring writers and artists.

Next, the group had a meeting with Rachel Rodriguez, the Director of the Writing Center, who explained how college students could benefit from the assistance of peer writing consultants for any writing project they undertake.

The Spy interviewed Dr. Allyson DeMaagd, attended part of Rachel Rodriguez’s introduction to the Writing Center, and interviewed scholar Jose Norris.

This video is approximately five minutes in length. To find out more about Talbot Mentors, go here.

 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

The Motherlode of Grace by Laura J. Oliver

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I don’t remember the last time I saw my mother cry, but I remember the first occasion. 

My mother and father were downstairs, the door of their room closed. I was upstairs in my blue bedroom with the circus animal-print curtains edged in ball fringe, trying to stay off the radar. Hot and bored, I gave up and headed downstairs, taking the last three steps in one giant jump wishing someone had seen me.                        

Every Fourth of July, our family picnicked down by the river at dusk. We’d gather driftwood for a bonfire, roast hotdogs until they blistered and dripped onto the sputtering flames, and watch the fireworks shot from the yacht club across the channel. My father would strum his guitar singing “Kingston Town,” and my mother would harmonize on “Moon River,” but alert to nuance, as all children are, I knew there was no harmony here. I decided my role was to protect us from danger. My contribution to the evening would be a first aid kit. 

I chose my Madras purse as the container and began to look for items to fill it. In the downstairs bathroom, I balanced on the edge of the green porcelain tub to reach the medicine cabinet and selected a crimped, almost-empty tube of Bacitracin. Behind the toothpaste, I discovered a red-brown bottle of mercurochrome, and after opening it to admire the tiny glass wand attached to the cap, I twisted it closed and dropped the bottle in as well. I added tweezers in case someone barefoot got a splinter on the pier and syrup of ipecac in case someone was poisoned.

I wandered into the living room where the picture window framed the river, but today it was flat and featureless, held in custody by the summer sun. 

As my parents’ voices rose from their bedroom, I added a sewing needle and thread in case someone were to tear her shorts. As their voices grew more urgent, I slipped into the kitchen, where I added two Popsicle sticks for a finger splint, and baking soda for bee stings. The more items I added, the better I felt. 

My parents’ bedroom door opened abruptly, and my mother walked past me barefoot, a hint of Chanel No. 5 in the air as she passed. In the kitchen, she returned to making brownies, thrusting a wooden spoon through the dough like she was furious with it. She stopped yanking the spoon in half-circles to tap two brown eggs against the rim of the bowl. Dropping the yolks in the batter, she tossed the whites into the sink. I stood on my toes to peer over the edge. The egg whites looked like two jellyfish.

“What are you up to?” my mother asked, but she did not even look at me, so I placed my Madras purse on the counter so close to the brownie bowl that they were touching and told her about the first aid kit.

“Is someone planning to get hurt?” she asked, and I said what I knew to be true.

“You never know.” 

After spooning the thick chocolate batter into a greased pan, she thrust the brownies into the oven and turned, cupping my small cheeks in her cool palms.

“Stop scowling. Your face could freeze that way.” I thought I was wearing my regular face, so I held the look and walked over to the hall mirror. I moved as if balancing a book on my head—as though my expression might fall off if suddenly jarred. I saw serious blue-green eyes beneath straight brows. More freckles on my nose in July than there had been in June. I wouldn’t have called my expression a scowl, but I did look worried, so I forced a big smile, which, with my frowning eyes, now looked a bit deranged. Without moving my head, I slowly turned my entire body to show my mother.

There was a crash behind me and a shout. A glass milk jug had been knocked to the floor, and my mother had instinctively tried to break its fall with her bare foot. The thick glass jar lay unbroken on the linoleum, milk chugging out its mouth and running beneath the cabinets, but my mother had crumpled to the floor, where she rocked back and forth, grasping her ankle. I ran to her, righted the milk jug, then tried to tug her hands away.

“Mommy?” I said, crouching down, “Let me see.” But she continued to rock, forehead pressed to her raised kneecap. 

“Move your hands,” I commanded, but she continued to sway, so I softened my voice and laid my hand on her back. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay now.” I sang the words softly as if she were the child. My first aid kit, I noted, had fallen from the counter as well, its useless contents in the path of the seeping milk.

I patted her now as she gave voice to her pain, sobbing softly. When she finally raised her face to me, I was more afraid than sympathetic. I had never seen my mother cry, and my heart had never broken for someone else. It pounded against the small wall of my chest like a felt mallet on the surface of a drum, and we both looked down at her slim ankle as she finally lifted her hands. 

There was no cut or bruise other than that caused by her own grip. I stood up, abruptly backing away. “You’re not that hurt,” I said as if she had tricked or betrayed me. “That’s too many tears,” I claimed in a loud, authoritative voice as if there were rules for such things. Finally, I shouted, “Get up!” I sounded angry, but I couldn’t breathe. 

This was a moment in my childhood after which nothing was ever the same. And that is where all stories start. And some end. But not this one.

I don’t think I ever saw her cry again. Not in all the subsequent years of being a single mother, poet, therapist, grandmother, or friend. 

But in the year before she died, when she could no longer speak and there were no more memories over which to cry, I knew just what to say when I visited her.

I’d find her in the recreation room of her assisted living facility, seated in her wheelchair, listening to someone explain an art project for which she had no comprehension. I’d slip into the room, hug her close and whisper in her ear, “All is well, all is well, all is well.” Her shoulders would drop, and her countenance soften as if she’d just put a lifetime of worry down. And then I’d add, “You were the best mother in the whole wide world.” 

Whether or not she knew it was me, I don’t know, but she’d smile and lean into my arms, embraced for all time.

You had a mother. Your mother had a mother. As did hers, and hers, and hers. You, in fact, have had not one but a thousand mothers.

An infinity of love lands in you. 

Happy Mother’s Day.

Laura J. Oliver is an award-winning developmental book editor and writing coach, who has taught writing at the University of Maryland and St. John’s College. She is the author of The Story Within (Penguin Random House). Co-creator of The Writing Intensive at St. John’s College, she is the recipient of a Maryland State Arts Council Individual Artist Award in Fiction, an Anne Arundel County Arts Council Literary Arts Award winner, a two-time Glimmer Train Short Fiction finalist, and her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her website can be found here.

 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

To EV or Not to EV? By Craig Fuller

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This is a question for our time.

I decided the best way to find out what the world of electric vehicles (EV) was all about would be to dive into the pond.  Trading in a sports car that I’ve enjoyed for the past few years for a one-year-old state-of-the-art electric vehicle a few weeks ago has been great fun.  It’s also produced a considerable number of new insights and focused me on one of the fundamental issues everyone driving an EV of any kind must consider: range.

For every driving event, the question of having a sufficient battery charge to run the electric engines for the distance intended to travel is a consideration that receives, deservedly so, far more consideration than jumping into a combustion engine powered vehicle which passes by dozens of gas stations for just about any trip.

Let me say at the outset, I am extraordinarily pleased with the vehicle I now own. I should also say that this fundamental question of range is not new to me nor anyone else who has spent decades flying airplanes. The reason, every flight starts with a pre-flight calculation of how much fuel is onboard and whether or not that amount of fuel is sufficient to fly to the destination with a reserve onboard. It becomes second nature.

So, if you are prepared to think more like a pilot than all of us think as a driver of combustion powered vehicles, this experience should not produce the anxiety that some feel with EVs due to limitations around the number of modern charging facilities.

Back to the vehicles for a moment. The dealer I worked with made an interesting statement early in the process when he shared the thought that people no longer need to shop for just an EV; rather, they should search for the vehicle they wish to drive and then they can select one powered by electric engines.

Indeed, there are many EV choices from sports cars to pick-up trucks and everything in between. And, each of these comes with incredible technology and tools for successful travel between recharging.

Writer’s new EV

But, the recharging element of owning an EV is a big deal. In my vehicle and most models, you enter your destination and receive an estimate of exactly how much capacity your battery will have upon reaching the destination.  And, if you need to charge along the way, it will likely show you where charging stations along the route of your trip are located and even what type of charging is available.

Here is the breaking news: not all charging stations are created equal. It’s all about kW power.  Said another way, if most gas stations filled your gas tank at the rate of a gallon an hour, but some could fill the tank in 30 minutes, you would probably prefer the latter rather the former.  This is the reality with charging station technology.  There are charging stations all over, but only a few charge at high or ultra-high rates. The charging station technology has evolved, and the networks are expanding to provide rapid charging, but not all areas have that many of the modern charging stations.  And, here on the Eastern Shore, the high-rate charging stations are few and far between.

Yes, you can charge your vehicle at home. But you want to do it from a 240-volt source rather the 110-volt source, unless you have a day or two to fully charge your vehicle.

Here is what a map of charging station locations looks like in our region:

 

But, looking just at stations on a map charging at higher rates presents a different picture:

So, what should one consider when thinking about the question of entering the world of EVs? Well, I asked that question of an objective AI source. Here is what was offered.

So, all this boils down to some prudent analysis.  But there are lots of people who share their stories.  My favorite so far came from a couple I met at a charging station in Frederick, Maryland.  We had traveled there for lunch. We were pleased to discover that near a favorite Frederick restaurant was a charging station installed by a company called Electrify America.  With a 150-kW charge, we were fully charged in about 20 minutes.

While we waited, the couple we met asked where we had traveled from.  When they heard the Eastern Shore, they shared that they camped a lot with their vehicle and their favorite place to charge was in Vienna, Maryland, just south of Cambridge.  Not only did they report there is high powered charging station, but it is located adjacent to a pie shop with the best Key Lime pie they’d ever tasted.

Vienna Charging Station

Of course, I could not help myself and made the short trip to check on the station and the pie.  Both were “as advertised.” Remarkably, the small town of Vienna, Maryland had installed these state-of-the-art charging stations which proved very attractive to the pie shop and the town of just a couple hundred residents.

So, I conclude with a plea to organizations here on the Eastern Shore: we do not have many of these modern, high powered charging stations; but they are both needed and increasingly attractive to the growing number of travelers who will plan trips to destinations where their vehicles are rejuvenated rapidly while they enjoy a meal or visit one of our many great destinations. Having been slow to add charging stations in the region could be an advantage as governments and other organizations can now leapfrog ahead to offer what is currently available to those of us who have gone all EV.

Craig Fuller served four years in the White House as assistant to President Reagan for Cabinet Affairs, followed by four years as chief of staff to Vice President George H.W. Bush. Having been engaged in five presidential campaigns and run public affairs firms and associations in Washington, D.C., he now resides on the Eastern Shore.

 To view an article about EV Purchasing Factors CLICK HERE

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Food Friday: Tomato Tart

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I am jumping the garden gun. A few weeks ago we planted a dozen slender tomato seedlings in the 8 foot by 4 foot raised garden bed in the back yard. They are now slope-shouldered adolescents and about a foot tall, with a few of the more mature plants sprouting little yellow flowers. These are burgeoning tomatoes, our future summer meals; these are Big Boy tomatoes.

I can see a sunny summer ahead, with lotsa tomato sandwiches, and BLTs and cool Caprese salads with garden-warm tomatoes and cool creamy buffalo mozzarella, with exquisitely scented home-grown basil leaves gently wafting down onto the artfully poured olive oil and balsamic vinegar puddles. I will give David Lebovitz’s massively popular Tomato Tart a try, and maybe it will become part of our summertime roster of meals. I saw the first fireflies in the back yard a few nights ago. Can cocktail hour on the back porch be far off?

Tomato Tart: https://www.davidlebovitz.com/french-tomato-tart-recipe/

I love having lots of nibbles for the cocktail hour, when we might have a fancy French 75 or a non-alcoholic beer as the shadows lengthen and Luke the wonder dog has calmed down enough to rest his head on the top step of the stairs, watching the Marx Brother squirrel team tearing through the trees, way up high, too far away for Luke to reach. The birds are coming home, and singing their jubilant three-part harmonies, and we watch the golden light moving lower on the trees, as the sun goes down.

I have improvised a salsa, usually based on what is left over from Taco Tuesday night’s dinner: some jalepeno pepper, a chunk of Vidalia onion, the leftover ear of corn, half a red pepper, and this summer we will add our own garden fresh Big Boy tomato or two. First I slice the corn from cob, then I chop everything up roughly, throw it on a baking sheet and drizzle with oil. The gas grill scares me, so I stick the sheet under the broiler, stirring and shaking it every few minutes with what what I hope looks like a practiced eye, until there is a nice amount of black char, just before everything self-immolates. Then I whirr it up in a food processor for a couple of seconds.

Sometimes I have let it process too long, and everything blends together and starts to look like gazpacho, or baby food: chunks are more attractive, because we are going to dip warm, crisp and salty corn chips into the salsa and try to balance them while we juggle a wet glass and a napkin, too. Try to remember to get some fresh cilantro. The scent of a scattering of chartreuse cilantro leaves is an invitation to dig in to the bowl of fresh salsa. (Don’t forget to heat up some chips in the oven after you have turned off the broiler. Warm chips, which get gobbled faster, are so much more delicious than cold chips. Show you care!) If you are not afraid of the gas grill, here is a recipe with measurements:

Grilled Salsa: https://minimalistbaker.com/perfect-grilled-corn-salsa/

Are there tomatoes in your garden this summer? Let the Spy Test Kitchens know how your garden grows, and what you are planning on making with your future harvest. I have to get some bamboo stakes this weekend; those plants of ours are enjoying the rain and have been growing by leaps and bounds.

Other tomato ideas: https://www.epicurious.com/ingredients/the-best-ways-to-use-cherry-tomatoes-gallery

“I let Annabel show me how to do it, and together we planted the tomatoes. Once I’d done one or two, I discovered that I liked it, and that furthermore tomato plants smelled good. Not a pretty smell, but an interesting one, peppery and green. I could smell it on my hands, and in the sunny air.”
― Abbi Waxman

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Spy Profile: Queen Anne’s Conservation Association’s Chris Pupke

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The  Spy sat down with Eastern Shore conservationist Chris Pupke, President of Queen Anne’s Conservation Association. In the eight minute video interview Pupke tells his vision of sustainable growth in QAC that also recognizes the need for planned economic development.

Pupke spoke about finding the balance between advocating for  smart zoning and encouraging sustainable economic development–he cited the communities of Northbrook and Symphony Villages as projects  QACA supported.

“[These are] appropriate places to grow,” he said. 

Pupke has been critical of a prevailing “economic development concept” in Queen Anne’s County to build housing developments in corn fields.

Here Pupke clarifies QACA’s stance on growth and development in Queen Anne’s County. 

Excerpts from the interview

Pupke plays overlapping roles with two other organizations,  Biophilia and the Chesapeake Bay Wildlife Heritage, where as a grant coordinator he promotes wildlife diversity through habitat restoration on private property.

“It’s important for conservationists not to lose sight that there is a need for economic development, and that the other side is not always agitating for self interest,” Pupke said. “We want to be careful that we don’t make development decisions solely based on the economic self interest of a few individuals, but we need to look at the economic benefits to the entire county and the region.”

Compared to farms, sprawl developments  provide less in taxes than they consume in public services, Pupke said.

“Development in farm fields has a very negative impact on our county budget,” Pupke said. Conversely, farms “provide more income in taxes than they use in county services.”

Pupke said sprawl can be cured by good legislation that allows the commissioners to measure the tax revenue benefit of a proposed development against the costs of county services to maintain the influx of new residents. Commissioners can then levy financial responsibility on the developer to subsidize the costs of an expanding population on the school system and roads. The developer of Northbrook followed a similar paradigm for the installation of a traffic light.

The Adequate Public Facilities Ordinance is just that kind of legislation. But in Pupke’s opinion, the APFO currently in place in Queen Anne’s County could be doing a lot more.

“What they have done in Queen Anne’s County recently is taken an excellent APFO ordinance and kind of dumbed it down a little bit, at the cost of increasing school crowding, which has a detrimental effect on our children’s education, which has a negative impact on making Queen Anne’s County such a great place to live,” Pupke said. “It will permit increased traffic on our dangerous roads [and make them] even more dangerous. And it will do so by allowing the taxpayers to subsidize the folks who are speculating on the real estate and trying to build more homes in the area.”

QACA hopes to work with the local PTA to reform the current iteration of APFO and enact concrete zoning laws for Queen Anne’s County.

Pupke grew up in Long Island and attended New Jersey’s Drew University. His ties to the Eastern Shore are through his mother’s family, which has roots in the area. Prior to his work with QACA, Pupke worked as the outdoor education coordinator for the Pickering Creek Audubon Center near Easton.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.