So, the day we taped the Malört episode was also our friend Ian’s birthday. So after a bunch of us got together for sushi and presents, we invited everyone back to our place to try the Malört. Misery loves company, right?
So this is how poor Ian spent his 25th birthday.
Our friend Randy was also less than impressed.
The general consensus was that it smelled that rubbing alcohol. Ian said it tasted exactly like pavement.
Then, I had a brilliant idea. I had a bunch of Miracle Berry Fruit Tablets kicking around, so Ian, Randy, Tory, and yours truly decided to see if popping a Miracle Berry tablet could help make the Malört more palatable. Sadly, it didn’t work. Nothing can stop the Malört.
Then, our friend Angela decided to try a sip. But rather than groan in agony, she just sort of shrugged it off. So we had her take another sip. Still, no response.
Angela is immune to Malört. Completely. She said that she only tasted dank, dusty basement. While we sat around the living room, groaning and bemoaning our poor judgement, Angela just sat there like some serene Buddha, completely unaffected.
Between all of us, we polished off about half the bottle. And truth be told, I think I might have another glass now. Malört is still the worst thing I’ve ever drank, but it has this strange allure. Maybe I’m just a masochist, but I plan to keep testing the supposed curative properties of Malört. The next time I have a cold or an upset stomach, I might reach for the Malört before I go digging through the medicine cabinet.