We Went to Break a Malört World Record. Turns Out the Record Was Made Up. We Loved It Anyway.

More than a thousand Chicagoans packed Recess to simultaneously make the worst face of their lives for charity. JB Pritzker poured shots. Pope Giardiniera blessed the congregation. The Mandalörtian brought Grogu. Chad the Bird showed up. And somewhere along the way, F’nAround discovered there wasn’t actually a Guinness World Record to break.

There are certain sentences that can only be written about Chicago.

“Governor JB Pritzker showed up to personally hand people shots of Malört” is one of them.

So is:

“Pope Giardiniera blessed more than a thousand people before they drank wormwood liquor alongside a Mandalorian carrying Baby Yoda.”

Welcome to Chicago.

On Sunday, August 30, F’nAround headed to Recess for Jeppson’s Malört’s “Bad Decisions for Good Cause” event, billed as an attempt to assemble the largest group of people ever to simultaneously take a shot of Chicago’s favorite beverage that tastes vaguely like someone dissolved a parking ticket in grapefruit juice.

The event had sold out well in advance. Listings reported 2,500 tickets claimed, while organizers expected more than 1,000 people to participate in the simultaneous shot.

And there was an actual good reason for all this epic awesomeness.

Malört pledged to donate $10 for every ticket sold to Ravenswood Community Services, which provides groceries, meals and other assistance to Chicagoans facing hunger and homelessness.

So technically these were bad decisions for a good cause.

Which may also be the most accurate description of Chicago ever written.

Then the Governor Showed Up

At some point, Q101’s Lauren O’Neil informed the crowd that the festivities were being delayed because they were waiting for a special guest.

The crowd booed.

Because nobody standing around waiting to drink Malört has ever become more patient with time.

Then people when the crowd figured out who the guest was.

JB.

The boos turned into chants:

“JB! JB! JB!”

And out came Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker.

Apparently all is forgiven when the person holding up your Malört shot is the governor of Illinois.

Pritzker didn’t merely make an appearance. He got behind the operation and started handing out free shots to the crowd.

There is something wonderfully Chicago about watching the governor personally distribute Malört to his constituents.

No ribbon cutting.

No podium.

No economic-development announcement.

Here. Drink this.

Government finally delivering services efficiently.

We Had a Pope, Too

Naturally, if the governor is attending your Malört ceremony, you’re going to need clergy.

Enter Timmy Carroll, better known around Chicago as the Pope of the South Side, who appeared Sunday as Pope Giardiniera I and delivered a blessing to the assembled Malört faithful.

NBC Chicago apparently enjoyed him enough that by Monday morning, Googling his name and Malört was already returning their coverage.

And somehow none of this was even the strangest thing happening.

There was also the Mandalörtian essentially what happens when Star Wars travels through Chicago long enough to acquire an Old Style and develop strong opinions about giardiniera.

Grogu was there.

Because obviously Grogu was there.

This is the way.

F’nMike Found the Malört Glory Hole

There are moments in journalism when you have to ask difficult questions.

There are moments when you have to hold powerful institutions accountable.

And then there are moments when F’nMike sticks his face through a Malört glory hole.

We don’t choose the stories.

The stories choose us.

Malört’s infamous advertising and imagery celebrating the contorted “Malört face” was well represented, giving Mike, the Mandalörtian and company plenty of opportunities to document exactly why we had apparently been invited.

At least that’s what we’re telling ourselves.

Between that, performers, circus acts, dancers and burlesque, the whole thing felt less like a promotional event and more like someone gave Chicago a liquor license and told it to entertain itself.

And Then F’nDoctor Started Asking Questions

Here is where things became particularly F’nAround.

Our resident F’nDoctor Joe doesn’t drink these days not because of alcoholism, but as a personal health choice.

But this presented a legitimate philosophical crisis.

If you’re standing among more than a thousand Chicagoans preparing to simultaneously drink Malört for a world record, do you temporarily come out of retirement?

It’s history.

Your name or at least your horrible facial expression becomes part of the record books.

So Joe started debating it.

And because apparently we are physically incapable of attending anything without eventually asking somebody a question, we went looking for the Guinness World Records adjudicator.

We wanted a sound bite.

Where were they standing?

How would they verify the count?

What happens if somebody prematurely Malörts?

We asked Malört staff.

And that’s when we learned something beautiful:

There wasn’t one.

According to staff we spoke with at the event, Guinness wasn’t there.

In fact, we were told the whole “world record” concept was essentially created as part of the fun.

We subsequently checked.

They were right.

Guinness World Records specifically says it “no longer considers applications for records involving the rapid consumption of alcohol.”

Even better, reporting before the event had already noted that the Malört gathering was not an official Guinness World Record attempt.

Which means F’nDoctor nearly broke his sobriety…

to participate in a world record Guinness doesn’t recognize.

That may be the most Malört thing that happened all night.

But Here’s the Thing: Who Gives a Shit?

Seriously.

Once we learned that, did it make the event worse?

Not even slightly.

If anything, it made the whole thing better.

Because somewhere along the way, we realized the “record” wasn’t really the point.

More than a thousand strangers packed into one place.

A governor handed out shots.

A South Side Pope blessed everyone.

A Mandalorian wandered around with Grogu.

People willingly drank something whose entire brand identity is essentially “you’re going to hate this.”

And they raised money for a Chicago nonprofit while doing it.

That is the record.

Malört CEO Tremaine Atkinson described the idea beforehand as an attempt to do something “patently ridiculous” while doing serious good for Chicago. That’s basically exactly what happened.

Malört Isn’t Really a Drink

That’s the part that becomes difficult to explain to somebody who isn’t from Chicago.

Malört is technically a beverage.

But that’s not really what people are buying.

They’re buying the experience.

You give it to somebody who has never had it.

Then you watch their face.

They give it to the next person.

Eventually somebody from another state asks why the hell Chicago keeps drinking this stuff.

And now they’re part of it too.

Malört has become one of those bizarre cultural objects that transcends the product itself. It’s an inside joke with millions of participants.

It’s Chicago shorthand.

It’s misery as hospitality.

“Welcome to our city. Drink this horrible thing. We love you.”

And somehow it works.

Malört dates its Chicago history to the 1930s, and after decades of production moving elsewhere, CH Distillery acquired the brand in 2018 and returned production to Chicago.

Since then, what was once a peculiar local liquor has increasingly become a piece of Chicago pop culture.

It has gone global.

It has been consumed by celebrities.

It has been turned into memes, merchandise, cocktails and rituals.

Hell, even the Pope has reportedly tasted Malört.

At this point, it’s less a liquor than a Chicago initiation ceremony.

Soldier Field Next?

The organizers teased the possibility of going substantially bigger next year potentially even taking the insanity to Soldier Field.

We sincerely hope they do.

Don’t even bother pretending Guinness is involved.

Call it the Malört World Record That Guinness Refuses to Recognize.

Fill Soldier Field.