Ernest Hemingway once wrote that "Paris is a moveable feast." I think he might have meant "transportable," because a moveable feast changes dates but not location, whereas a transportable feast goes wherever you do. But what do I know?Holidays, like Easter or Passover, that move around the calendar are known as "moveable feasts." But I would argue that any occasion that celebrates brunch season  the first sunny Sunday after months of rain, perhaps  is the ultimate moveable feast. And brunch is really just a fancy way of saying, "I want an alcoholic drink with my breakfast." (We are not here to judge!) So with that idea in mind, we're offering up the trinity of brunch cocktails  the Bloody Mary, the Mimosa and the Ramos Fizz  all localized and elevated by the addition of one or two new-ish ingredients. It is spring after all, and spring is all about new beginnings and new things. Hemingway also wrote: "When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest." If that doesn't scream Northern California, I don't know what does. Jeff Burkhart is the author of "Twenty Years Behind Bars: The Spirited Adventures of a Real Bartender, Vol. I and II," the host of the Barfly Podcast on iTunes and an award-winning bartender. Contact him at jeffbarflyIJ@outlook.com A fizz for spring Ingredients 2 ounces Alamere Spirits London Dry Gin 2 ounces unsweetened organic coconut cream (not Coco Lopez)  ½ ounce Cointreau or other good-quality clear triple sec ½ ounce fresh-squeezed Meyer lemon juice 1 whole egg 1 orange zest Fresh grated nutmeg Directions Combine the gin, cream, Cointreau, lemon juice and whole egg in a shaker glass with ice. Shake until foamy. Strain into a chilled coupe glass, being sure to pile up foam on top. Garnish with orange zest and top with grated nutmeg. Note: Eggs are not a new idea (see Golden Fizz) but the richness of the yolk adds a great weight to this fluffy drink. Swapping out the milk cream for coconut cream also adds richness and eliminates any possible curdling, which can happen when combining citrus and milk. Orange flower water (another classic ingredient) is neither very tasty nor readily available. Triple sec, with its high sugar content, not only adds sweetness but also a delicate orangey flavor. A rosy mimosa Ingredients 4 ounces Schug Winery 2019 sparkling rosé 2 ounces fresh-squeezed tangerine juice ¼ ounce Hanson of Sonoma organic mandarin vodka 1 strip tangerine zest Directions Combine the first three ingredients in a mixing glass and stir once to combine. Allow foam to subside and transfer to a chilled champagne flute. Garnish with zest. By combining ingredients in a separate glass first, you can eliminate the explosive citrus juice foam that happens when you combine sparkling wine with fresh citrus juice. Note: Mimosas are named for the color of mimosa blossoms. Tangerine juice adds a wonderful tartness to this drink, and the mandarin vodka complements that nicely. This version does have a slightly different color, but its tart, fresh flavor more than makes up for the color variation. Umami snapper Ingredients 2 ounces Sausalito Liquor Co. Marin Coastal Gin 3 ounces organic tomato juice 1 dash Worcestershire sauce (about 1/8 teaspoon) 1 dash hoisin sauce 1 dash Sol Food Pique hot sauce 1 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper 1 dash good-quality Thai/Vietnamese fish sauce King Floyd's Black Lava salt for rimming Directions Partially rim a pint glass with the black lava salt by wetting the rim with the fleshy side of a piece of citrus and then dabbing the glass into salt before filling with ice. In a separate mixing glass, combine the first seven ingredients and stir. When thoroughly combined pour mixture into rimmed glass. Note: The Red Snapper is a later gin version of the Bloody Mary. The Bloody Caesar is a Bloody Mary made with Clamato juice. This Umami Snapper take combines the best elements of those two: the aromatics of the gin and the umami of the fish sauce (fish sauce doesn't actually taste like fish, just like Clamato doesn't actually taste like clam). The result is a testament to that elusive fifth taste: umami, which is really more of a sensation than a taste.