The chicken at M&J's comes out of a pressure fryer rather than an open one, and that single choice is the whole difference. Broasting seals the seasoning under a skin that stays crackling-crisp while the meat underneath keeps its juice, and the result is specific enough that it gave the place its other name — Broasted Foods. The menu around it runs long, from breakfast plates to Greek souvlaki to a fried seafood platter, the kind of spread a family restaurant accumulates over decades. But on the Garrison Road corridor in Fort Erie, the rest of it arranges itself around the chicken.
Start with the Broasted Chicken Box, the six-piece order that built the reputation and still reads as the clearest version of the kitchen. Pressure-frying is what sets it apart: the method cooks faster and hotter than an open fryer, sealing in moisture so the chicken arrives crisp outside and loose with juice within. The natural partner is Broasted Potatoes, run through the same process until the skin shatters over a soft centre — a side that carries the chicken's logic rather than sitting beside it. Order the two together and the meal makes immediate sense; it is the combination the restaurant is built to send out the door, hot, for a table or for takeout.
Past the chicken, the menu fans into comfort-food standards, each with its own following. Poutine arrives under house gravy and curds. A Western omelette comes heavy with ham, onion, and peppers, part of an all-day breakfast that never clocks out. There is fish and chips, a fried seafood platter, a stacked club-house dinner, and a fresh garden salad for the table that wants something lighter. Threaded through all of it is the Greek souvlaki, the Stroumboulis family's own mark on an otherwise Canadian board. And on the drink list sits a Loganberry — the sweet, tart soda carried over the river from Buffalo — a small regional cue that places M&J's in border country rather than at a generic diner counter.
What the breadth tells you is a kitchen built for utility more than occasion. The all-day breakfast covers the morning, the chicken and the diner plates cover lunch and dinner, and the broasted format stays fast enough that much of Fort Erie orders it by phone and carries it home. The plates are sized for value and built to be familiar. For a group, the move is to build around the chicken — a box, a tray of broasted potatoes, a poutine, and a garden salad — rather than chasing separate dinner plates, which keeps the order simple and still feeds the whole table.
The continuity behind all of it is the Stroumboulis family, who have run M&J's since 1960 — better than sixty years on the same stretch of Garrison Road. By the family's account, Toula and Evangelos have kept the restaurant in the comfort-food lane it started in, and the menu still carries the evidence. The Loganberry and the broasted chicken are both holdovers from the M&J's Drive-In that came before the dining room, back when a roadside window and a regional soda were most of the draw. The souvlaki is the newer layer, the family's own cooking folded into a Niagara diner format.
What keeps M&J's specific is not range but a short list it has never let go: the pressure fryer it built its name on, a border-town soda most menus dropped decades ago, and a family that has stood behind it the entire way. The chicken still comes out crisp and the portions still run generous. For a first visit, the order nearly writes itself — call ahead for the Broasted Chicken Box, add the potatoes, and let the long menu keep for the visits after.