Meet Me at Madison’s

What kind of galaxy-brained bullshit led to naming this place? Trying to get into this person’s head is probably not worthwhile, but the presumed cleverness of adding the “meet me at” part just feels like someone went with their hedge right before filling out the LLC paperwork. Meet me at Meet Me at Madison’s has all the nonsensical absurdity of naming your single “My Single is Dropping.” So you can make the 30 Rock joke: “My Single Is Dropping” is dropping. I just want a damn omelette, don’t make me eye roll. But, I suppose once you get past the dumb name, things get considerably better in this upscale diner in the heart of Montclair’s Watchung Plaza area.

But, yeah, I’m not ready to let the name go. Not the flabbiness of it, but the feeling it gives. I assumed walking in that the decor here would have all the charm of a rest home. Flowery and stuffy. Something not only about the name, but the logo and what I had in my head about the clientele. That’s on me. Because I was actually pleasantly surprised to be greeted by a bright, modern space. Cool wavy ceiling, light wood and marble. There’s a glass case and counter where you can pick up pastries and whatnot, and an overall look and feel of one of those nicer, updated houses you see in every higher-end flip show. All nice and clean and put together. Though, I must say that all the hard surfaces renders the decibel level just below ear-splitting. Especially, with the cadre of children at brunch on a Sunday. Here’s an aside for parents: nobody wants to hear your kid’s iPad playing some Boobah shit out lout. Nobody. If you’re bad enough parents to alllow this to happen, you don’t deserve to have kids. Either learn to talk to your children, buy them some headphones, or stay home. There, I said it. I don’t fault the restaurant, of course. That’s on the European parenting model. It’s a thing; read up.

At some juncture the families packed up and moved on and the volume dropped to a manageable level. Or maybe it was just my brain focusing on a brunch menu that, frankly, had too many good-sounding options. I walked in 100% thinking omelet, but was left with a conundrum. I mean, sure they have omelets, but they also have a bunch of Latin inspired items too. Which is not something I inferred by the name of the joint, nor by anything else having to do with anything. That was definitely out of left field. I did definitely consider the bananas foster pancakes and the brisket sandwich, but quickly decided I could get that anywhere. So, I moved on to a choice between the shakshuka eggs (baked eggs in mixture of cumin, garlic, onion, red pepper, homemade tomato sauce and harissa), the huevos a la divorciada (two eggs, two tortillas, two salsas) and the eventual winner — because it’s the thing you almost never find on menus — the Latin tribute tamale, which is roasted chicken mole, Oaxaca cheese and two fried eggs served with spicy salsa verde. I mean, c’mon. And while I would have liked a little more chicken and a little more mole in the tamale itself, it was overall a delicious plate of food. Way more flavorful and punchy than what you’d typically find at brunch. But still felt appropriately brunch-ish.

It’s not often that I’m surprised and pleased with an experience. I’m that kind of person. But this one definitely kind of side-swiped me. Even more surprising are the prices, which really aren’t a whole lot more than your average Jersey diner, with the majority of the dishes being in the $18 range (with some a couple dollars more and a couple dollars less). Honestly, I will just call this place “Madison’s” when asking Ms. Hipster to book a repeat visit, but I definitely plan to go back to get some more spicy eggs to shove in my face. Muy bueno.

121 Watchung Ave. – Montclair
973/604-2221
meetmeatmadisons.com