Here's the thing: We are Breakfast Eaters, and we are drinkers, so the words "champagne brunch," once they enter our brain, tend to stay there, ping-ponging around and popping out anytime the old "what do you want to eat? I don't know, what do YOU want to eat?" conversation starts up (again). We swear, the one at Mandalay Bay is half the reason we go to Vegas so damn much (the other half being, of course, the roulette tables and the cold, cold Heinekens consumed at table's edge). We spied these magical words on a roadside sign for the Moss Beach Distillery many moons ago, and have not been able to get rid of them since. Two weeks ago Sunday, we finally managed to wheedle our dining companion into going there with us by offering to use our Christmas money from our grandparents (thanks, Nean & Kelly!) to underwrite its $27.50/person price tag. Rawk!

SFist Lydia, contributing