Drink

Reinventing the Mimosa at CAV

Rise and booze with new versions of a classic cocktail

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With Mother’s Day upon us, the polarizing phenomena of brunch and its chief cocktail, the mimosa, loom large. Foes insist that both belong only to sorority girls, the menopausal set and/or dupes who pay triple markup for toast slapped with the word “artisanal.” Advocates, on the other hand either are members of those aforementioned groups – or they’re bon vivants who endorse anything indulgent. Those who shrug their shoulders with indifference are a small minority, because moderate opinions on food and drink are out of fashion nowadays. Haven’t you heard?

Admittedly, I’ve tended to be among the few fence-sitters. If I’m awake, I’m hungry, and I’ll probably want an adult beverage – details be damned. (Sure, I have opinions to spare, but they take until cocktail hour or so to fully sharpen.) So let’s say it’s late morning, and I’m offered lobster benedict with Dom, at a chi-chi spot in town. Yes, please! And if the offer’s simply toast with a High Life, done quick and dirty at a diner? That’s swell, too. And yet, Sylvia Moubayed of CAV Restaurant may have swayed me out of my whatever-goes mindset. Or, at least, she’s left me inclined to seek out a proper brunch and mimosa whenever possible.

Sylvia is perhaps the state’s most charming advocate against dispassion. She also happens to helm a restaurant that serves one of the most popular brunches in Providence, turning as many as 500 covers on Mother’s Day – which makes the former pub waitress in me want to lie down from exhaustion. And, she loves mimosas. “Come in!” she told me on the phone. “Let’s play.” Only fools with black, black hearts could resist such an invitation.

A mimosa primer is likely in order here. Nope, it’s not the invention of some Reagan-era, Connecticut-based country club, much as an origin story like that might ring true. Instead, its basic template surfaced in Paris in the ‘20s, at the Ritz Hotel, as an evening cocktail. Bartenders loved it for its ease, since “champagne + orange juice” is an equation that’s hard to muck up on even the busiest of nights. Variations soon developed: some people poured theirs with more bubbly than OJ, and others the reverse. Some dispensed with OJ altogether, choosing to define the mimosa as simply “bubbly plus... something”. At some point its affinity for breakfast-ish foods was discovered – and lo, brunch found itself a boozy mascot.

At CAV they’re poured three ways, ranging from the classic combination of bubbly and orange juice to a straight-up serving of Pêche Impériale, which is a French sparkling wine that’s steeped with peach before bottling. In between those two poles is a pink-tinged mimosa made with Alizé, a passion fruit-infused liqueur, instead of orange juice. To make it, Sylvia adds what she calls “a couple of fingers” of Alizé to a flute, and tops that with champagne. “Men don’t like the idea of a pink drink,” she notes with a laugh. But even though it’s a hit among those with double-x chromosomes, don’t mistake it for fluff. Alizé is vodka-based, after all. Even a well-flexed, manly liver might need a nap after a handful of bubbly cocktails laced with that. Sylvia’s favorite, though, is the Pêche Impériale. It’s straightforward but elegant, which befits her, and I’m inclined to follow her lead.

Stubborn mimosa-snubbers will be pleased to learn that CAV’s self-customizing Bloody Mary Bar will make a comeback this month, after a brief hiatus. But seriously, kids, give mimo- sas a chance. As a very bearded, very bourbon-preferring friend of mine commented while clutching one in his bear-paw-for-a-hand, “they make me smile.”

It’s just that simple. Joy is at the heart of the mimosa’s appeal, and it’s something that Sylvia knows a thing or two about. “I’m 77 but I feel like 17,” she tells me. Let’s have another round and toast to that.

CAV restaurant, mimosas in rhode island, mothers day brunch

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