Guilty Pleasure, Not Guilty: The Sunday Mimosa

When I changed how I drink, I figured the hard part would be the nights out. It was and it wasn’t at the same time.

One of the things I actually missed was the Sunday mimosa. And I mean missed. I’m Québécois, so brunch isn’t a meal, it’s a religion! I lived in Toronto for five years and it was slowly becoming a thing there, but nothing like back home. Honestly, if it were up to me, I’d brunch every single Sunday of my life. Late start, the people I love around the table,  a glass that kept getting topped up while nobody was watching the clock...That’s my happy place. There’s no better way to close out one week and kick off the next. Very basic, I know. I loved it, and when I quit, it was the one drink I really, truly missed. In my head, brunch just came with a mimosa in my hand. One didn’t exist without the other.

It’s crazy how we attach emotions to things without even noticing. A drink becomes a feeling, a feeling becomes a habit, and before you know it they’re wired together. That’s the part nobody warns you about. Quitting the drink is one thing. Reprogramming the feeling is the hard part.

What I actually missed

Here’s the thing: a mimosa is mostly orange juice! It was never about the buzz. Not even close. What I missed was everything around it. The loud laughs, the second (ok, third) coffee, the plates nobody bothers to clear, the stories that get better every time someone retells them, that feeling that the whole afternoon belongs to you and nobody’s in a rush to leave. That was the magic.

But my brain had it all wired together. Brunch meant mimosa, mimosa meant brunch. So without really deciding to, I started quietly skipping brunch to skip the drink. Saying “maybe next time” a few too many times. Finding something “more productive” to do. Telling myself it was no big deal. It was a big deal. Worst trade I ever made. My Sundays got smaller, quieter, a little grey, and I didn’t even notice until I really, really missed them.

And here’s what I’d tell anyone going through the same thing: you’ll think you’re fine seeing people a little less. You’re not. Please don’t do that to yourself. We’re wired for connection. There’s a Harvard study that has followed people for over 80 years, and the biggest predictor of a happy life wasn’t money or success. It was relationships. The people around your table. So keep the brunch. Keep the crew. Keep the Sundays. Just change what’s in the glass. 

The swap

I tried all the usual replacements and, honestly, they were sad. Plain orange juice? Kids’ table. Soda water with a splash of OJ? Fine. And fine is the problem. Then one Sunday I showed up with a bottle of alcohol-free bubbly, topped it with orange juice, same flutes, same table, same people...and it was just brunch again. Same fizz, same clink, same “ok, one more.” I sat there grinning like an idiot, because I’d written this one off for good. 

***My go-to for mimosas is the Loxton Sparkling Brut: crisp, dry, and easy on the wallet. Feeling fancy? The Oddbird Blanc de Blanc is the one I’d pour for the first toast.

Here’s what I keep coming back to. Almost nothing I thought I was giving up was actually the drink. It was whatever the drink happened to be sitting next to, a moment I’d quietly handed over to it. Look closely and the alcohol is rarely the part you’d miss. It just showed up first and took all the credit. Take it out, and most of the time the moment is still right there, waiting for you.

I didn’t miss the mimosa. I missed the Sunday. And the Sunday was never the part I had to give up.

SP.

P.S. If you have 10 minutes this week, watch this TED talk by Robert Waldinger, the director of that Harvard study. It’s one of the most-watched TED talks ever, and honestly, it changed how I think about my Sundays. Watch it, then text someone to set up brunch. 🥂