[malort tasting clips]
GABBY SHELL: Can you guess the shot behind that sound?
If you’re a regular in the Chicago bar scene, you might recognize the wormwood-tinged coughs and sputters — that’s right, it’s Malort. With what people describe as tastes of grapefruit rind, tree bark and even pencil eraser, Malort has earned a reputation as the world’s most disgusting liquor — so bad even the company that makes it knows:
[“I Malorted” TikTok clip]
YUMI TALLUD: So how did this undrinkable drink make its way to the bottom shelf of every dive bar in Chicago, and into the hearts of tourists, transplants and natives alike?
SHELL: Like most of Chicago’s best stories, it all goes back to Prohibition — when mobsters like Al Capone dominated the days and the sweet sounds of jazz ruled the night.
[“When the Saints Go Marching In” by Louis Armstrong]
TALLUD: It was the early 1930s, and speakeasy culture was in full swing. Swedish bootlegger Carl Jeppsen traveled the Red Line up and down the North Side, selling his home-brewed liquor to everyone he could, from recent immigrants to mafiosos.
SHELL: Rumor has it the taste was so bad authorities couldn’t believe the stuff was anything but medicinal. But when 1933 rolled around, and the end of Prohibition with it, many of Chicago’s northside speakeasies-turned-bars still kept a bottle — or 10 — lying around.
TALLUD: I went to one of Chicago’s most iconic former speakeasies — The Green Mill, which is over 100 years old. The jazz club, which is just steps away from the Red Line, was Al Capone’s old stomping grounds and an inspiration for Frank Sinatra.
[NatSnd: “This is Argyle”]
And now, where I’m hoping to find what made Malort and The Green Mill such iconic parts of Chicago culture.
SHELL: Many of its Prohibition-era peers — like Club DeLisa and the 226 Club — shut their doors over the coming decades. But The Green Mill weathered the years: the Depression-era decline, the drug addictions that plagued Uptown in the ‘70s and ‘80s, and finally, to the jazz renaissance that kicked off the bar’s revival.
TALLUD: Tom Johnson has worked as a bartender at The Green Mill for 11 years. On any given night, he sees:
TOM JOHNSON: “Tourists, locals, kids, people bringing their grandkids, their grandparents — the other way around. All kinds.”
SHELL: The weathered neon green sign pointing to the entrance alerts bargoers exactly what they’re in for: a no-frills jazz club that hasn’t changed in philosophy, ambience or appearance in more than a hundred years. The illicit atmosphere — straight out of the 20th century — makes it a draw for people around Chicagoland — like Northwestern senior Helena Young.
HELENA YOUNG: “It felt more like a speakeasy. It felt a little more upscale, it felt like people were there to enjoy music and be around each other rather than just being drunk.”
SHELL: Young found The Green Mill after searching for a classic speakeasy for her friend’s birthday party. She says The Green Mill’s down-to-earth vibe and long history elevate it above your run-of-the-mill bar or club.
YOUNG: “It did feel like a Chicago thing to do, and not just like I could be in a bar anywhere. It did feel like a community place.”
TALLUD: The community spirit and strong Chicago ties apply to Malort too. For decades after Jeppsen’s North Side tours, the drink found a following with one specific group: bartenders. Malort has a pretty low alcohol percentage — 35% — so it’s easy to down a few shots over the course of a shift. Johnson says that these days, it’s his drink of choice.
JOHNSON: “It’s just easy to shoot. Bartender’s dream. Nice little shot, and bitter, just like the cold, it warms you up.”
TALLUD: It only took one dedicated bartender to turn Malort from a niche drink only served to those in the know to a Chicago staple.
SHELL: Sam Mechling first tried Malort on a dare in the early 2000s — one shot and he was hooked. He spread the bitter liquor gospel to friends and family before taking it online, launching a guerilla marketing campaign. His unaffiliated social media posts and stand-up routines satirized the off-putting taste of the drink — and its unique tie to the city.
TALLUD: Soon, shooting Malort became a rite of passage for any Chicagoan worth their salt. Johnson says the drink is much more popular now.
JOHNSON: “People ask for handshakes often enough — I mean, a shot and beer combo. Nobody really does the cocktail thing though. But totally, people ask for it every day.”
SHELL: Most people take Malort for a bet, or to show off to their friends — not for any particular love of the liquor. Still, there’s something appealing about the idea that a drink could prove your Chicago mettle. We were curious to see if one shot would show whether the years of harsh winds and freezing winters had made us into tougher stuff.
[gabby and yumi try malort clink clip]
TALLUD: And?
[gabby and yumi try malort it’s not that bad clip]
SHELL: After all, there is a reason Chicago’s called the Windy City — and no, it’s not the brutal lake chills. This is a city of wind bags and myths — so take a grain or two of salt with that Malort shot, kick your feet back and just enjoy the ride.
For WNUR News, I’m Gabby Shell.
TALLUD: And I’m Yumi Tallud.
[“When the Saints Go Marching In” by Louis Armstrong]
