Alcohol in the AM has a spotty reputation. Most consider the practice a cure for the common hangover. Those who have experimented in this capacity know how foolish this deal with the devil really is, offering a short-lived reprieve while the hurt reconnoiters for a grander assault in an hour’s time. The other misuse of the morning cocktail is its overindulgence: breakfast is not cocktail hour, and yet rarely a sunday brunch passes where I don’t witness a table of adults ordering mimosas by the dozen. One might be nice, but three?
Speaking of mimosas, here is an example of a classic that is better in theory than it is in practice. I have only respect for its components: orange juice is essential to my mornings and Champagne is of course a long-time favorite. Funny things happen when you mix them though. The latter loses all its nuance while somehow making the former taste like synthetic fruit punch. The result is cloying and too sweet and no matter how carefully poured unfailingly results in sticky stemware. Guests to my brunches receive what I have renamed the deconstructed mimosa: one small glass of fresh orange juice and a very much separate flute of nonvintage Champagne.

If the desire persists to actually mix something, try a Salty Dog. To begin, moisten the rims of several rocks glasses, dipping each into a mound of sea salt. Set aside to dry. When your thirsty guests arrive fill the salted glasses with ice, two ounces of gin and freshly squeezed grapefruit juice. The result is thrilling—almost too much so for the morning. Beware though, that many consider the use of gin incorrect, insisting a Salty Dog is just a salted Greyhound (grapefruit and vodka). They may be correct, but gin, with its botanical pungency, is obviously superior in this instance. Besides, vodka should be reserved for the grand-mammy of breakfast cocktails—the Bloody Mary—a recipe sadly open to an unflattering degree of interpretation

The main problem with most Bloody Mary mixes I’ve encountered is they ignore the essential tomato flavor that makes the cocktail so good. Some are fiery to the point of unpleasantness, some so sweet they make the teeth ache; others have foreign and unwelcome ingredients, like banana pepper and curry. These, in my opinion, all miss the point. A good Bloody, tastes, first and foremost, of fresh tomato and premium vodka. Seasonings should slightly enhance things, without obscuring either. The moment I can no longer detect the two ingredients that make this union holy, I know something has gone awry.

My preferred method for creating a gentler Bloody Mary—what I like to think of as a Bruised-But-Not-Bloodied-Mary—begins with a can of Italian whole Roma tomatoes. The juice in which these are packed has the brightest, freshest tomato flavor I can find, short, of course, of a similar preparation made from garden tomatoes plucked from their vine prior to cocktail time. If you wish to make the latter at the crack of dawn, by all means, go ahead; the rest of us will sleep another hour.

Bruised Mary

Large can of Italian Roma Tomatoes

Bottle of premium Russian Vodka

Bottle of Russian Imperial Stout

Freshly cracked black pepper

Cayenne pepper

Celery batons

Salt

Empty the can of tomatoes into a blender or food processor with 1 tablespoon of sea salt. Carefully pulse until loose. Strain the tomato mass over a stainless steel bowl for half an hour at room temperature, stirring occasionally (reserve the pulp for later use). Add several grinds of black pepper to bowl. Using the tip of a paring knife, add scant amounts of cayenne tasting as necessary. The goal is something with trace heat—not discernible fire. When satisfied, cover and set aside at room temperature. At time of service, fill highball glasses with ice and two ounces of vodka. Stir tomato mixture and top each glass. Float one tablespoon of stout in each glass, add clean celery batons and serve.

The Deconstructed Mimosa is a civilized start to the day.