The self-service negates our usual commentary on champagne levels -- this freedom's appreciated, moments of embarrassment for poor pourers aside. The flavor choices are among the best you'll encounter; take the week off from orange and enjoy blackberry, strawberry, or whatever special syrup's on offer.

There's a nice variety of brunch staples and all-day entree options; the fried chicken biscuit's to die for, dangerously close to literally.

The two-hour limit's apparently negotiable if you ask nicely, and they were extremely chill about our group's early-arrivers occupying a table for half an hour without ordering anything while waiting for our full party.

If you can nab an outdoor table, Pennsylvania Avenue's a bustling backdrop, but even the inside offers a snug feel befitting the whiskey-inspired name.