Sunday brunch is that magical part of the weekend when those lucky enough to not be working/at church/recovering alcoholics can tie on a socially acceptable buzz. Clearly, the preferred methods of obtaining a brunch buzz are Bloody Marys or Mimosas. We’ve established that there are plenty of places to lay lips on a quality BM, but what about the Mimosa? More often than not, Philly restaurants’ ratio of bubbly-to-OJ is way, way off. It’s disappointing in more ways than just feeling booze-gipped; it’s one of those little things that says a lot about an establishment, like how cheap the proprietor is, or whether they really care about their product. But here’s the thing: We know how much a magnum of J. Roget costs. It’s like $10. Most people don’t mind covering half of the cost of a bottle in one drink, but when it tastes like slightly fizzy orange juice, it’s more like ordering a flute of FU. What do mimosas look like when you mix them at home? A glass of champagne with a splash of OJ. Now, your Bartender’s Bible may tell you otherwise — Wikipedia says 3 parts champagne, 2 parts OJ — but even by that yardstick, the lion’s share of a Mimosa should be… champagne. And that’s exactly what we expect when we order a freakin’ Mimosa.

Wow, now that that is off of our chest, let’s get educational. The history of the Mimosa is clouded by legend, so we’ll tell you the origin with the most intrigue, be it factual or not. Supposedly, the drink was first mixed in 1921 in England and called the “Buck’s Fizz”, after the bar in which it was first served. The recipe (if you want to call it that) was then stolen by a wily barmaid and taken across borders to France where it was adopted by the Paris Ritz and named the Mimosa.

That being said, there’s a lot of shiesty history surrounding the Mimosa; let’s put an end to it by simply tipping the bubbly for an extra few moments. (Or maybe even throwing a lil’ Gran Marnier into the mix.)