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On weekends, the line at the original Broken Egg Café in Mandeville is as robust as the free, while-you-wait coffee. Maybe it’s because of the charming, century-old frame house. Or the egg-centric menu, rife with scramblers, Benedicts and omelets well-stuffed. Maybe it’s the concept, somewhere between cheap greasy spoon and stuffy hotel brunch. Whatever the case, the formula has worked, so much so that for the past few years, the Broken Egg Café has cracked and poached its way to seven additional locations.

Broken Egg founder Ron Green conceived the idea after working in San Diego, where he discovered vibrant breakfast joints that pushed the envelope on the most important meal of the day. Green found nothing similar when he returned to the North Shore, so in a moment of “mid-life clarity,” he shifted careers and opened the first Broken Egg Café in old Mandeville in 1996.

It didn’t take long to expand and franchise, first along the Florida panhandle, and now in Baton Rouge and Lafayette. Locations in Atlanta and Birmingham will follow. The first of the Capital City’s two ABE’s opened this spring on O’Neal Lane in the spot once occupied by Maggio’s and The Village. The second, not open at press time, is in the old Chalet Brandt building on Old Hammond Highway, recently vacated by Mandina’s.

The Southwest scramble's blend of onions, green chiles, tomatoes, bits of chorizo, cheddar and Jack cheese contributed to a good overall flavor.

Another Broken Egg Café might have roots in Southern California’s sunny eclecticism, but its O’Neal Lane digs could hardly be more generic. It’s an incongruous vibe to the panache of brunch, a universally beloved meal that’s all about starting a fresh new day—or recovering from the night before. You won’t find funky, clapboard charm. It’s more like a tasteful reception hall or waiting room.

Straight-up lunch is available after 11 and includes belly-warmers like chicken pot pie, all manner of burgers, hefty sandwiches and salads served in dishes that resemble paella pans.

My first brunch visit, I took our chipper server up on her subtle prod to try the baked brie with French bread ($7.99). It wasn’t exactly what I wanted to precede eggs with hollandaise, but the signature appetizer sounded pretty good. A small wheel of warmed cheese was smothered in sautéed chopped pecans, apples and raisins tossed in butter sauce tinged with something nondescript. Grand Marnier, apparently. Not bad, but not remarkable. The brie had very little flavor.

Crabcakes cavallo were briny, hearty, not particularly delicate, but nicely seasoned.

We followed it with crabcakes cavallo, consisting of an English muffin topped with crabcakes, poached eggs and hollandaise sauce ($13.29). The eggs were cooked perfectly, but the dish wasn’t so hot. I mean that literally. It arrived at room temperature. The crabcakes were briny, hearty, not particularly delicate, but nicely seasoned. The English muffin was limp and under-toasted, but this came as no surprise since I can’t remember the last time a breakfast place got that right.

The Southwest scramble, a blend of onions, green chiles, tomatoes, tiny (really tiny) bits of chorizo, and scrambled eggs topped with cheddar and Jack had good overall flavor, but the accompanying guacamole was bland and the salsa, allegedly homemade, looked and tasted a lot like stuff from a jar ($10.29).

The signature blackberry grits comes with do-it-yourself sides of butter and blackberry compote.

The signature blackberry grits sounded interesting, but the dish was just a bowl of unadorned grits with do-it-yourself sides of butter and blackberry compote ($1.99). After the assembly, the resulting flavor was, well, slightly fruity grits.

A subsequent visit was better. This time, I shot past the server’s brie suggestion and went straight for eggs Sardou ($13.49). Plump poached eggs were nestled in artichoke bottoms and positioned on English muffin halves, toasted perfectly this time. The plush, spinach-studded hollandaise was tangy and sumptuous, and the electric green leaves of sautéed spinach were punchy and flavorful.

The stuffed brioche French toast, a stack of two thick slices of tender egg bread, was fragrant with cinnamon and lightly filled with delicate, creamy custard ($12.99). The plate was covered in fresh strawberries, blueberries and healthy squirts of rich whipped cream, all terrific enhancements.

The simple Big Rooster with Swiss and bacon proved to be exactly the kind of juicy, herby grilled chicken sandwich fans of this lunch staple go for ($7.49). But the pot roast, the most expensive item that day, was dry and skimpy. Its flavor came largely from the big puddle of compensatory gravy ($13.99).

Stuffed French toast brioche is a stack of two thick slices of egg bread, fragrant with cinnamon and lightly filled with delicate, creamy custard, enhanced by fresh berries and whipped cream.

The fluffy, delicately crispy biscuits here are lovely. The so-so country potatoes that accompany most dishes are small, uniform, greaseless chunks flavored with seasoning salt. They’ll please some and bore others. By the second visit, I missed crude-cut spuds with browned edges and onions.

On both occasions, the service was prompt and accommodating, and while the vibe might have been prosaic, it was comfortable.

Another Broken Egg Café’s extensive menu alone is reason to check it out. Even after two visits, I left dozens of brunch dishes still to be unearthed, including huevos rancheros, a multitude of fruit-studded pancakes and signature seafood omelets.

Things to look forward to.