There simply isn't enough room here for the philosophical discussion necessary to suss out when, in the process of garnishment, a bloody mary ceases to be a bloody mary. At what point does it become something else entirely? Perhaps the mixologist (chef?) who concocted "Fuck Brunch" can better answer this question. All you need to know is that when you order this "bloody mary" for Sunday brunch, you need not order anything else. Its "garnishes" include a bacon-and-cheddar slider, an artisanal cheese, some meat (maybe a Slim Jim, maybe not), asparagus, green beans, a pickle, shrimp, Brussels sprouts ... truly, the list goes on and is subject to Anvil's whims. But it will all, somehow, fit inside a big-ass mason jar. Yes, Fuck Brunch.

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