A Bloody Mary was the first real mixed drink I ever consumed. I don't count my indulgences at college parties in the 1970s, which had a standard formula: soda plus large dose of alcohol. Those were things such as ginger ale and bourbon, cola and rum and an ill-fated mix of Fresca and gin that put me off both ingredients to this day. Had I known the contents, I would have declined; but being a good Southerner, I drank what my hostess handed me. Also, it was dark.

I came to appreciate Bloody Marys at a conference in Washington, D.C., which included several Bloody Mary breakfasts, with my college chapter of a journalists' group. My description of the revels led my husband to consider Bloody Marys the beverage of journalists for years.

Bloody Marys have such a pleasing air of healthfulness. Vitamin C from the tomato juice, vegetables from the celery stick. Practically breakfast on its own.

I used to order it all the time, even at night, which friends told me was a cocktail faux pas. Besides my fondness for Bloody Marys, part of the problem was that I didn't know any other cocktails, except pina coladas, which would drive most of my friends from the room.

Funny thing about cocktails. People can so easily make assumptions based on what's in your glass. Right after college, I visited a high school friend in New York (who berated me for ordering my signature Bloody Mary at 9 p.m.).

He took me to meet his significant other at the time, who greeted us at the door by saying, "Hi. Want a banana daiquiri?" Not "something to drink," but specifically a banana daiquiri, and asked the question with such enthusiasm, it was as if he'd been waiting to make the offer for days.

After we left, my friend explained that some of his college buddies had visited the previous week. Everywhere they went, the buddies ordered banana daiquiris, leading to his S.O.'s assumption that Southerners drank only banana daiquiris.

As years passed, I still had a place in my heart for a good Bloody Mary, but it seemed she didn't like me as much. The tomato juice or mixer blends tasted too salty or the plethora of ingredients made the flavor too muddy. Most bars or restaurants didn't seem to take a lot of care with the drink, other than the occasional addition of pepper-infused vodka.

But it has remained a standard, along with sausage balls for flinging at bad calls, for my annual brunches to watch the finals of the Atlantic Coast Conference Basketball Tournament. I've always used a classic recipe, which was a gift from a friend who now lives in Seattle.

Now that we're about a week and a half away from the start of the tournament, I decided to see if I could update the old girl. Especially since the Bloody Mary finally is benefitting from the resurgence of the cocktail nationwide.

When my husband and I visited New York right after Christmas, we had a delicious Bloody Mary at Nobu that contained wasabi and ginger, giving a fresh flavor to the mixer, which the restaurant's publicist told me was Tabasco Bloody Mary Mix.

Many bars and restaurants are making their own fresh tomato juice for the drink. In "Aquavit and the New Scandinavian Cuisine," the cookbook from the New York restaurant, there's a recipe for a Bloody Mary using fresh juice from yellow tomatoes. Two Los Angeles restaurants offer menus of different Bloody Marys, all made with fresh tomato juice, at brunch. Bartenders are throwing in curry and coriander instead of the typical horseradish and black pepper. Some even use gin, tequila or sake instead of vodka.

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