‘Splitting the G’ - why everybody in the US is drinking Guinness

Now the fastest-growing imported beer in terms of sales, the pint of plain has been making up for lost ground since the pandemic

Patrons with pints of Guinness at the Dubliner in Boston. Photograph: The New York Times
Patrons with pints of Guinness at the Dubliner in Boston. Photograph: The New York Times

When Maxwell Quinn stepped out of the November chill into Clandestino, a bar in Manhattan’s Chinatown favoured by a young, fashionable crowd, he quickly passed over the sparkling wines, dirty martinis and Lagunitas IPA.

“Can I get a Guinness?” he said.

He wasted no time. Before the foam could settle, he raised the glass to his lips and tilted his head back. He began to chug.

Quinn (36) was “splitting the ‘G,’” an online trend in which drinkers gulp Guinness with the hopes that the horizon between the stout and the foam falls in the middle of the “G” on a branded pint glass. In some corners of the internet, it seems like everyone – the Jonas Brothers, John Cena, your cousin – is splitting the “G.”

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Guinness, once synonymous with old Irish pubs and old Irish men, is increasingly winning over younger, beer-bent Americans like Quinn. “It’s having a moment,” he said.

You can spot Guinness in some unexpected places across New York City, including Mexican restaurants, diners and natural wine bars. It is the fastest-growing imported beer in the country based on bar, restaurant and brewery sales over the last year, according to Nielsen. The Dublin-based brewer has been making up for ground lost in the United States since the pandemic.

But it is more than post-pandemic revenge spending. A motley of factors – an Irish pop cultural renaissance, viral drinking challenges and of course, marketing dollars – has helped endear one of the beer industry’s most misunderstood products to sceptics.

“The numbers are completely bananas right now,” said Oran McGonagle, an owner of the Dubliner, a two-year-old pub in Boston. In 2023, his bar sold more Guinness than any other bar or restaurant in the city. And this year, the Dubliner’s purchasing volume of the stout is up 63 per cent to meet rocketing demand.

Guinness’s stateside boom is a byproduct of a larger cultural moment, said McGonagle, who is from Co Donegal. In recent years, Irish cultural figures including actor Paul Mescal and author Sally Rooney have introduced Americans to a cooler version of Ireland. Guinness, which was hardly trendy when he lived there, is benefiting. “Irish culture is having a big resurgence,” he said. “We’re at the peak of where we’ve ever been.”

Sales have been strongest in cities with large populations of Irish Americans, said Joyce He, the US brand director for Guinness. The company’s top-performing markets are New York City; Chicago, where Guinness opened a brewery last year; Philadelphia; Washington, DC; Boston; and South Florida.

“During the pandemic, Guinness was disproportionately affected,” she said, as most of its sales occur at restaurants and bars because so much of the quality relies on the tedious pour from the keg’s tap. The recent uptick is partly the result of people missing a drinking experience they could only have in person, she said.

Pub owners said Guinness is shedding its reputation as a “meal in a glass” thanks in part to marketing campaigns aimed at dispelling the notion that the beer is heavy. The stout is 4.2 per cent alcohol by volume – about the strength of Bud Light – and 125 calories per 12 ounces, lighter than Modelo Especial.

That appeals to Americans wearied by craft beer’s dominance, said Mike O’Sullivan, an owner of New York pubs Hartley’s and Grace’s.

“Everyone is drinking Guinness,” he said. That was not the case in 2015, when he opened Hartley’s in the Clinton Hill neighbourhood of Brooklyn.

Guinness sales were strong from the start – the stout outsold the rest of the menu three-to-one – but it was mostly ordered by Irish men. “Americans preferred craft beers,” he said. That changed during the pandemic. “You would look up and down the bar and everyone was drinking Guinness,” he said. “Men, women, young and old.”

Around two years ago, he noticed non-Irish Americans posting videos of themselves “splitting the ‘G.’” He had first seen the trend around 2017 and watched it spread from London to Ireland and, eventually, to the chug-happy US.

O’Sullivan was quick to act. In 2022, he replaced his unbranded beer glasses with custom pints featuring Hartley’s logo so customers could “split the ‘H.’” The pay-off was immediate. Guinness now outsells the rest of the menu by a six-to-one margin, he said.

For anyone with an internet connection, splitting the “G” has become inescapable across platforms, with searches for the trend peaking in the US on Google Trends in mid-November. Singers Ed Sheeran and Niall Horan recently attempted the trend together. Actor Jason Momoa is a fan, too, and there is even a split the “G” app.

(The challenge is not without debate. Some argue the target isn’t the middle of the “G” – it is the narrow gap separating the Guinness name and the company’s harp logo.)

Guinness has not publicly endorsed the trend, although He, the brand director, said splitting the “G” has been a positive driver of sales in the US. “I love seeing people get creative about making Guinness their own and creating their new rituals with the brand,” she said. “As long as it’s done responsibly.”

While the Guinness sold in the US is still brewed in, and imported from, Ireland, the quality of pints poured at stateside bars has improved with demand.

“Guinness is our signature dish,” said Fergus Carey, an owner of Fergie’s Pub in Philadelphia. He pours his pints into 20-ounce imperial pint glasses, as is customary in Ireland, and takes several minutes to do so. “We take it very seriously,” he said.

Thirty years ago, when Carey first opened the pub, he poured Guinness into 16-ounce American pint glasses, which any Irishman will tell you is a mistake. Most of his customers did not care.

“A lot of Irish people, when they moved to the States, they would not drink Guinness because at most places, it was crap,” he said.

New York state of Pint, an Instagram account managed by three Irishmen, is dedicated to finding the best pints of Guinness in New York City. They consider a variety of factors, such as temperature, glassware and appearance. Even the time it takes for the nitrogen to settle in a pour can affect a Guinness’ rating.

“You would be amazed by the differences between pints,” said one reviewer, who requested anonymity to ensure their review process is not swayed by special treatment. Despite Guinness’ reach, their favourite is still at an Irish pub: Hartley’s, which they awarded an 8.5.

O’Sullivan, the New York pub owner, is looking for new ways to capitalise on his customers’ urge to split the “G.” He plans to lower the logo on his branded glasses at Grace’s in Manhattan by a few centimetres, to match the ones at Hartley’s.

“It’s for consistency,” he said. “But of course, it’s also for business.”

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.