Restaurants in Mays Chapel

Inspired by the seasons, executive chef Shawn McClure's menu features locally sourced dishes and changes weekly. Post up at the slate-blue oyster bar for an order of pan-seared scallops served with black seaweed salad and drizzled with carrot-ginger sauce ($11) or sushi-grade Ahi tuna tartare with a blood-orange glaze and jalapeno pesto ($11). Advance to the galley for dinner. The central seating area ushers in a faint breeze from the retractable street-level doors, inviting vibrant discussions and the freshest Burton Gilliam gossip. Try the restaurant's famed oysters (selection and availability varies daily), steamed mussels, clams, or shrimp with garlic-caper or roasted-tomato butter ($10–$18 per pound). Entrees include grilled salmon with leeks and roasted red-potato salad ($16), pan-sautéed crab cakes sided with sugar-snap peas and a tangy mustard-parsley sauce ($24), and fish and chips ($15).

Finger fare dominates the appetizer menu, including meaty chipotle-barbecue shrimp hugged in grilled bacon strips and kissed with cheddar grits ($12), local and New England artisanal cheeses served with fruit and blueberry honey ($14), and southwestern eggrolls ($8.95). Those in search of greener grub will appreciate the fresh nine salad offerings. The farm salad ($11) features chilled hunks of chicken tossed with crumbled goat cheese, sliced green apples, grape tomatoes, and dried cranberries. For lunch, grilled cheese grows up with Tavern's farm-fresh take on the classic ($8.25) in three different styles. Main dinner courses include aged-USDA-beef selections, such as the brandy-flamed New York strip tavern steak ($27), and jumbo day-boat scallops pan seared and coated in decadent lobster butter ($25). Vegetarians can take solace in the vegetarian sauté, a garden blend bedded atop wild-mushroom risotto ($20).

The recently renovated space boasts glossy cherry-wood floors, a new oak bar, and an upstairs lounge complete with hearth and high ceiling. Gastrominds Patrick Dahlgren and Joseph Flynn opened the eatery intending to create a place one step up from the basic corner bar. The minimal menu favors quality versus quantity, serving up a skull-splitting selection of starters, salads, and sandwiches. Tongue-puckering Granny Smith gazpacho crested with chive sour cream and crusty bread for dipping ($7), crispy bruschetta ($7.50), and smoked salmon studded with capers ($11) round out the appetizer options. Salads include a kicky tequila-lime Caesar ($8) and petite mixed greens ($4). Side suds with a heartier helping like the barbecue Buffalo-chicken panini ($11) or chicken salad with red grapes on a panini ($9). The seasonal menu is subject to change but will always feature standard bar grub.

Within a 272-year-old fieldstone building, the aroma of pan-seared seafood and glazed meat drifts through dining rooms as patrons clink together glasses of fine wines. The location didn't always have such a refined air; throughout its history it served as a rest area for travelers and a prestigious school for boys. It wasn't until 1947, when Ivan Drechsler purchased the location, that it was restored and established as a country inn.

Today, executive chef and owner Brian Boston, who was recently named 2011 Chef of the Year by the Restaurant Association of Maryland, crafts upscale American dishes in the Inn's bustling kitchen. Plates of artisan cheeses and steaming bowls of fresh Maryland crab soup travel to the dining room, warming up stomachs for later courses more efficiently than a series of lunges beside one's table. Entrees such as the 12-ounce grilled rib-eye steak and wild-mushroom-stuffed phyllo star in the inventive, upscale menu next to sides of grilled summer vegetables.

Nearly 200 handpicked red and white wines age gracefully in an underground wine cellar, which rests beneath colonial-style dining rooms illumined by tabletop candles and crackling flames from a rustic stone fireplace. The Milton Inn Restaurant requests that male guests don jackets, a prerequisite that arose after the short-lived “shirtless cummerbund” fad of the late 1980s. Diners that commute via four-wheeled steed can deposit their vehicles in the eatery's free parking lot.