I met Eric Madonna on the last night of this year’s Tales of the Cocktail when Grey Goose took over the bar at the Four Seasons in New Orleans. There were Mignonette Martinis garnished with olives and Gibson onions. Caviar bumps were slurped alongside vodka shots served in glasses made entirely of ice. Steak frites and chopped cheese provided proper nourishment underneath the lobby bar’s glittering chandelier.
That night in July, Eric and I chatted about the Knicks’ recent championship win and Williamsburg, Brooklyn, where his establishment, Bar Madonna, is located. I told him that one week prior, after gambling in the basement of Shrine Church of Our Lady of Mount Carmel during the Feast of the Giglio, I tried, foolishly, to get into Bar Madonna on a Friday night without a res. Rookie mistake, I know, but a girl’s gotta try. I mean, who can resist the allure of a Puttanesca Martini (gin, olive, tomato, capers and anchovy) paired with a meatball parm sandwich in that beautiful room under those high ceilings?
But the room’s appeal goes beyond its good looks. The name “Bar Madonna” actually comes from a painting by Eric’s longtime friend, the artist and KidSuper founder Colm Dillane. The two decided to name the restaurant after whatever Dillane called the piece, and that artwork went on to inspire the space, from its interiors to the plates. The painting now hangs overlooking the bar in its namesake space. It’s a fitting reflection of Eric’s own creative orbit, which has moved between hospitality, music, fashion and art.
I recently caught up with the New Yorker to talk about his favorite Midtown restaurant, his regular Brooklyn haunt and the joys of sitting at the bar.
Amanda Gabriele: What was the last restaurant you ate at? What did you order? Details, please!
Eric Madonna: Claud. I ordered the scallop skewer with lardo and the Dover sole with Chartreuse and lemon. The scallop was the thing I kept thinking about afterward. It had that clean sweetness you want from a scallop, while the lardo softened into it and gave the dish richness without making it feel heavy.
What’s your ideal seat in a restaurant?
The bar, always. A restaurant reveals a lot about itself from the bar. You can watch the handoffs between the kitchen, bartenders, servers and guests, and all the small decisions and movements that create the experience without most people ever noticing them.
A good bar seat also gives you this perfect balance of privacy and participation. You can have your own evening, but there is always the possibility of talking to the person next to you, getting an unexpected recommendation or letting the bartender shape part or all of the experience. There is a spontaneity to it that I love.
Where are you a regular?
Rude Mouth in Williamsburg. It is a wine bar directly next door to Bar Madonna, so proximity might feel like the obvious, but I keep going because they have built something genuinely great. Their program is thoughtful, the staff is amazing and the room feels very comfortable without feeling overly casual.
Our teams know each another, so there is always a familiar face and a natural sense of connection between the two places. I’ve also had the opportunity to watch Rude Mouth develop and become part of the neighborhood’s rhythm at the same time as us. That is one of the best things a restaurant or bar can do: become somewhere people do not have to make an occasion out of visiting because they simply know it is there for them.
What’s one restaurant you’ll never stop recommending?
Mimi’s on 52nd and Second Ave. It’s a Midtown Italian piano bar and restaurant that, in the best possible way, feels like it has always been there. My mom used to go there when she was living in Manhattan in the ‘80s, and it’s the first place she took me when I started working in the city at 18. It’s not trying to be perfect, but it is authentic without needing to announce its authenticity, and familiar without being boring.
There is something increasingly rare about a restaurant that does not need to reinvent itself every six months to remain relevant. Mimi’s represents a very particular version of New York — slightly theatrical, a little chaotic, deeply sincere. It is the kind of place you never want to see disappear. Go for the chicken parm, stay for the piano and the guests singing their three-Martini hearts out.
Morning person or night owl?
By profession, I am a night owl. In my imagination, I am a morning person. Hospitality has a funny way of making midnight feel like the beginning of the evening and breakfast feel like something you eat before going to bed.
I am trying to hold on to both ends of the day. I love having a few quiet hours in the morning, before the messages and decisions begin, when I can feel productive and present. But I also love the energy of a restaurant late at night, when the room has settled into itself and everyone is fully in the experience. The real goal is balance: enough of a morning to feel like a person while still being able to show up for guests until 2 a.m.
What’s the first thing you do when you land somewhere new?
Find somewhere small and local to eat. I am rarely trying to have the city’s most famous meal on the first night. I want to find the mom-and-pop restaurant, neighborhood bar or little place I might have walked past if I was following an itinerary.
You can learn a lot about a city by sitting in a room on an ordinary Tuesday night, full of people who actually live there. You notice what they order, how they use the space, how long they stay and how the staff speaks to the regulars. I like understanding how a place eats and drinks before deciding what else I need to see. It is usually the fastest way to understand a city and, more often than not, where I end up having the meal I remember most.
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