Many restaurants in our nation's capital offer only a lone, orange juice mimosa option on their bottomless menu; only the Big Stick has the good sense to charge a mere $14 for it.

Value is again the main attraction here — a brunch compatriot paid only $13 for chicken and waffles and still needed a doggie bag — but we can at least say we've had cheese curds at brunch now.

Our waitress seemed slightly bemused by our presence, which is generally an appropriate reaction, but didn't let that stop her from delivering mimosas by the pitcher and indulging a few, likely annoying, "settle this debate for us" questions.

There are some downsides to brunching in a sports bar — for one, the toilet doesn't flush quite like it should, and two, if there aren't sports, no one's in the bar. And we'll leave it to you to judge where exactly this one falls, but it was a short path from that lack of a big game to the TV above our table airing what we'll generously term sheep-shearing.