In late 2015 I visited Chicago on a scouting mission, to see if I might want to move there. My few friends in the area were quick to introduce me to their favorite restaurants and attractions, on the first evening of my visit one friend dragged me to a bar and ordered a shot of something he assured me was a local favorite. He watched my reaction with predatory anticipation, anxious to laugh and feel the sweet, sweet, satisfaction of revenge for so many past food pranks I had visited on him. He was quickly disappointed; I’d had worse.
This was my first exposure to Jeppson’s Malört and, since moving to Chicago, I have carried on the tradition of subjecting unwitting friends and co-workers to this local favorite. For those who have never tried it, the experience of drinking Malört is much like the emotional ride my friend went through while watching me; at first it seems sweet and your mind tricks you into thinking you’re about to enjoy what’s happening, then something goes horribly wrong and all you’re left with is savage disappointment. I can only compare it’s bitter flavor to regret or, perhaps, a ruined orgasm. Somehow, I find I actually like the stuff.
If it’s something you’re interested in trying for yourself, you can find it in most Chicagoland bars. In fact, if you’re in a Chicago bar and they don’t have Malört, leave and find a better bar.
I’m not kidding, if they don’t have Malört it had better be a wine bar (even then, I think you could find a wine bar with a sense of humor).
If you’re outside the Chicago area, look for bäsk, a Swedish liquor flavored with wormwood, and that’ll get you in same ballpark.
Despite the fact I usually use Malört as a weapon to attack my friends and make them hate me, I’m convinced it can be used to compliment a meal.