Brunch

Regular readers of my cocktail column probably get the formula by now: I give a short history of the drink in question, probably with an anecdote about my time in bartending, then provide a classic recipe, following by various flavor and format variations. But the Bloody Mary doesn’t fit neatly into that structure. For one thing, the drink’s origin has never been firmly established — given that it started as a spiked tomato juice, how could there be? Do we really care who invented the vodka-cranberry? The Bloody Mary is the same way. It probably came around during the 1920s, gaining popularity in the 1930s. By 1939, you see the first real mentions of it in print.

In the old days (2019), mimosas and Bloody Marys were really the only the socially acceptable forms of alcohol that could cross your lips before 12 p.m. To drink earlier would be a worrying indicator that you’re an alcoholic, or worse, a professional writer.  That benighted era is safely in our rearview.  Of all of the widespread cultural habits that have emerged post-Covid — obsessive hand-washing, a prickling fear of close-talkers, a desire to squeeze every morsel of conviviality possible out of even the dullest social exchanges — by far the best is the wholesale rejection of A.M.-drinks policing. And the biggest winner is the breakfast wine.