TABLE OF CONTENTS
When I still lived close to home and my mom was still alive, holidays meant mimosas. We aren’t talking anything fancy here — whatever orange juice was in the fridge for dad and a trusty bottle of André Brut that at the time I think cost a whopping $3. Despite the meager ingredients, these felt special. The sound of the cork as it popped, the bubbles tickling your nose. Mom didn’t have champagne glasses, instead she broke out her hand-me-down Brandy snifters that were used for everything from Old Fashions to dessert cups.
Through the years as I married, we moved for careers, and sadly my mom passed unexpectedly, I held on to that tradition. Slowly mimosas started making their way into other occasions. When living in Iowa I made friends with a group of ladies, many of whom were 20 to 40 years my senior, and they had a monthly champagne brunch. Each lady would bring a bottle of champagne and hors d’oeuvre to share. The rule was no one could leave until all the champagne was gone. During the colder winter months, it was easy to keep chilled; stick it in the snow that had accumulated on the deck. Needless to say, laughter flowed as freely as the champagne, and I cherish those memories.
It’s been 14 years since we lost my mom, and I continue to share the spirit of her mimosas. As we’ve traveled to new places and met new people, I began to broaden my mimosa repertoire.
Juices
Personally, I’m not a big orange juice fan, so I began exploring various other juices. From cranberry and pear to mango and grapefruit, there are so many options! And although I still use a bottle of André Brut at Thanksgiving and Christmas in true mom fashion, I have tried other champagnes and prosecco.
Garnishes
There’s so many ways to pretty-up a mimosa outside of glassware. Have you taken a walk down any of the baking or candy making aisles lately? They have the cutest silicone molds to fit any theme. You can have frozen peach flavored seashells, cranberry flavored roses — the possibilities are endless! And by using your favorite juices, you’re keeping your mimosa chilled without watering it down.
Frozen berries also make great additions to mimosas. Whether you buy and freeze fresh fruit or buy fruit that’s already frozen, plop them in and let them slowly marinate in your mimosa.
I’ve even seen cotton candy perched delicately atop a glass, slowly melting its way into mimosas.
Containers / Decanters
Want to let people choose their own mimosa adventures? Placing your chilled champagne with a selection of juices is a great way for people to explore new flavor combinations. And with the small amount of juice needed, having clunky full-size juice containers doesn’t make sense. From pretty, ridged glass decanters to miniature pitchers, there are so many fun options.
Don’t have a wine or champagne chiller? Grab a pretty plant pot, fill it with ice, and voila. Just make sure your pot doesn’t have a hole in the bottom or has its plug! You don’t want a slow flood to kill the party.
Signs
If you’re going to give your guests options, you need to make them clear. From simple to sophisticated, you may have just the thing already hanging out in your home. Have a pretty set of napkin rings? Lay them down and have your slips of paper labels tucked inside. Mini easels, picture frames, photo stands or clips — so many possibilities.
Trays
If you’re rockin’ a small space, you may not have a nice area to dedicate to your mimosa bar. Bring it all together with a nice base. Use a decorative tray to build from and command a presence. Don’t have a tray? How about a fun scarf you can meander through your display. Have a frame or mirror collecting dust? Remove the glass or mirror (if you’re worried about weight) and use the empty frame to outline your components.
Glassware
As I mentioned earlier, my mom didn’t have champagne flutes, she used her trusty Brandy snifters. At the time I hadn’t put thought into it; I didn’t understand how glassware effects the aroma, the taste, or the experience. Champagne flutes have been the go-to, letting the bubbles dance to the top and tickle your nose. I never questioned it … until now. Let’s take a closer look, shall we?
I found a great read on the Riedel Wine Glass Company website, a producer of high-quality glassware for more than 270 years. If anyone understands glassware, it’s them. I’ll hit the highlights, but definitely give the full story a read.
I had no idea the Coupe had a place in champagne history; a glass I haven’t seen much outside of craft cocktail bars. This short, saucy stemmed glass, although giving style, gave away too much of the aroma and bubbles and had a short-lived relationship with champagne. Next up, the flute, with a slightly scandalous start. Apparently champagne had a time when it was significantly cheaper, and therefore more accessible. Producers were scrambling, and with masterful marketing repositioned champagne as something more special, to be saved only for certain occasions, with a price tag to match. Step aside Coupe, here comes the flute, allowing a hostess to stretch her champagne rations. The flute became an icon of celebrations everywhere, with bubbles tickling noses with every measured sip.
I’m gonna come clean. This girl definitely didn’t have the funds or the space in a 2-bedroom apartment with four girls (and occasionally someone’s boyfriend and a Degu, while he lasted) for champagne flutes. There may have been some mismatched wine glasses in a cupboard, and little did I know all those years ago I was on to something. Through sensory workshops back in 2013, Riedel came to the conclusion the best glass for drinking champagne is none other than, drum roll please … wine glasses! I was on to something back in the day and had no idea.
I’ll admit, I have not one but two sets of champagne glasses. One was a gift from my godmother, the other I bought after my mom passed to match a pretty set of margarita glasses she had given me. They’ve gotten plenty of use, but they scare me every time we use them. The tall, slender profile is an accident waiting to happen for someone like me who often talks with their hands and is naturally clumsy.
Conclusion
Some things haven’t changed; I still have a mismatched gaggle of wine glasses in my bar cabinet. Two left from the foursome my husband and I bought for our first home, with the other two being broken in moves through the years. Two left from a foursome I bought from a resin artist downtown at one of our local art fairs (two met their demise during laughter-fueled game nights). A pair that was a gift from some dear friends we’ve come to know, the only still complete set. And one of the two art deco style glasses I was gifted for my birthday; the other jumped off a wicker coaster and bit it on our carved wooden side table.
So, what are we to believe? To flute or not to flute, is that the question? No questions in my world — use the glass that brings you joy. They both have merit. Still unsure? Hop over to Riedel to draw your own conclusions.
