According to Wikipedia:
From the label of Jeppson's Malört:
"Most first-time drinkers of Jeppson Malort reject our liquor. Its strong, sharp taste is not for everyone. Our liquor is rugged and unrelenting (even brutal) to the palate. During almost 60 years of American distribution, we found only 1 out of 49 men will drink Jeppson Malort. During the lifetime of our founder, Carl Jeppson was apt to say, 'My Malort is produced for that unique group of drinkers who disdain light flavor or neutral spirits.' The only distributor of Malört in the United States is the Carl Jeppson company of Chicago, named after a Swedish immigrant who popularized and sold the liquor in Chicago. Made in Chicago until the 1970's, Malört is currently produced in Florida exclusively for Jeppson's. Jeppson's Malört is a staple of Chicago area taverns, but not well known elsewhere in the United States. According to CocktailDB.com, "it has been adopted enthusiastically by bikers and is a mainstay at biker bars." Malört is often known as "Northern Discomfort" in Chicago area bars, this name is a play on Southern Comfort, and may be abbreviated as such (i.e. 'SoCo' is the abbreviated, hence 'NoCo', 'NoDis', 'NorDis', or 'NoDisco'.) In June of 2011, Malört won "The World's Worst Liquor" contest on NPR's podcast, How To Do Everything.
I can't say that I wasn't a little intimidated by this - I detest Jagermeister, and I was getting the impression that Malört would fall into the same category. I am also not a fan of "let's do a shot!" It goes against the principle belief of a traveling elixir fixer who mixes elixirs that tantalize your taste buds via the well-balanced cocktail. Don't get me wrong, I don't have issues with simple libations such as a Cubra Libra (rum/coke/lime), the classic highball, or a nicely balanced gin and tonic, and I take much delight in sipping on fine cognac, bourbon, rye, or an occasional Highland Scotch. My problem with what is known as a shot is that it usually leads to bad behavior. I know this from personal experience and after over 15 years in the bar industry. I was willing to bend this rule because I was curious, and if curiosity killed the cat, I was prepared to die after a shot of this digestif-style liqueur. Plus, I just had to stop at The Squirrel Cage for my Malört-tasting experience.
Another year passed before I was FINALLY able to experience The Squirrel Cage in person. I had crossed paths with some friends a few weeks before, and we had decided to meet on a Tuesday evening for my inaugural visit. I pulled into the parking lot with only one other car present. Okay, this could be very interesting. I opened the door to be greeted by Steve, the bartender. Two patrons at the bar were quietly enjoying PBRs. The bar was three-sided and had probably been around since the early 70's or even the 60's. Small tables were sprinkled throughout the main bar area along the walls, which were covered with 1950's paneling and decorated with equally-aged beer signs. I felt like a kid in a candy store! We sat down, I ordered drink, and we waited for the rest of our party to arrive.
I am always one to inquire about the history of an establishment, and I was thrilled to find out that The Squirrel Cage has been in Steve's family since 1951. His grandmother used to live upstairs, and she would come downstairs to work at the bar. Originally, the tavern was quite the happening little supper club and banquet hall in Lisle during the 1950's. Some of that energy still lingers in the paneled walls - this was a step back in time, to an era when Pink Squirrels, Golden Cadillacs, Manhattans and a few Rob Roys were probably served on a regular basis. The photograph above was taken during the Squirrel Cage's 1950's heyday. Steve showed me where the original dance floor was in the building, and I could almost hear Glen Miller playing in the background. A very old-school 1950's candy store counter now stands in one corner where the dance floor used to be. Brewiana memorabilia that has been collected at the tavern over the years fills the glass case. Many people would probably look at this counter in disgust. I, on the other hand, see antiquarian history that has been left over the years at The Squirrel Cage, now housed in a glass time capsule for all to see and enjoy.
The tavern began to fill up with thirsty guests who were looking for cheap, cold draft beer. They were in the right place. The Squirrel Cage is known for its dive bar charm and cheap beer - it is not known as a place high on the list for culinary charm. If you are expecting silverware and a server presenting you a daily menu filled with seasonally-fresh, locally sourced ingredients, then have dinner somewhere else and visit the tavern afterward for a drink. The only food served at this establishment is frozen pizza and a few bags of chips. This was not a big deal in my book, since I had learned this fact in a Yelp! review, and it was hot coming right out of the small table-top pizza oven, what can I say? It paired beautifully with the Pabst Blue Ribbon on tap and was a perfect nibble while throwing back a cold one. That's what you do at The Squirrel Cage - a local, family-owned tavern located in Lisle for over 60 years - throw back a cold one, laugh with a few friends, absorb the energy of yesteryear's patrons, and listen to a few tunes from the jukebox, or, if your visit falls on a Tuesday, enjoy a little trivia with fellow guests. My vote for the best trivia team name goes to Clara's Italian Restaurant employees who called themselves "Chocolate Jones and the Temple of Funk." With that kind of sense of humor, I may have to patronize Clara's very soon - and I will definitely stop back at The Squirrel Cage, my newly adopted local clandestine tavern. Cheers!