In Lagos, the smell of jollof rice means more than just food. It is a cultural memory that clings to weddings, naming ceremonies, and roadside bukas where flames lick the bottoms of battered pots. To Nigerians and much of West Africa, jollof rice is shorthand for celebration, identity, and resilience. It is also a source of rivalry: the so-called “jollof wars” with Ghana, a light-hearted but deeply felt competition over whose recipe reigns supreme.
So when Hilda Effiong Bassey, popularly known as Hilda Baci, set out in September 2025 to cook what Guinness World Records would certify as the largest serving of Nigerian-style jollof rice ever prepared, she was reaching for something larger than a record. She was putting Nigeria’s most beloved dish, and a corporate partner’s ambitions, under a microscope the size of a six-metre cooking pot.
Hilda Baci had made herself a household name in 2023 with her cookathon. This four-day culinary marathon was live-streamed across social media and eventually certified by Guinness at 93 hours, 11 minutes. Her poise under pressure and her ability to turn cooking into a national drama transformed her into a celebrity. She was not just a chef; she became a symbol of youthful aspiration and cultural pride.
However, the Guinness World Record that made her famous was eventually broken by another competitor. The crown had slipped, though her reputation did not. For Hilda, the jollof attempt was a chance at redemption and reinvention, proof that she could harness spectacle again, this time on behalf of a partner brand seeking to define its place in the Nigerian kitchen.
Gino, a product line under GBfoods Nigeria, is not an accidental player in this story. The brand has sold tomato pastes and seasonings, staples in Nigerian cooking, for years. But in 2024 and 2025, it began reimagining itself, introducing new products such as peppered chicken cubes explicitly designed for jollof and other tomato-based stews.
The appointment of Hilda as brand ambassador gave Gino credibility. Together, chef and sponsor aligned around a singular idea: stage an audacious attempt at Guinness glory, and make it a national festival rather than a closed kitchen exercise.
That choice of format mattered. In corporate marketing playbooks, record attempts often unfold behind closed doors, with only stewards and adjudicators in attendance. Gino and Hilda did the opposite. They opened the doors.
The project was christened the Gino World Jollof Festival, and it became a free-to-attend carnival of food, music, and celebrity culture. Bright Mgbemele’s LinkedIn post captured the atmosphere: the crowds, the influencers, the sense of a once-in-a-lifetime communal meal.
There was even a dramatic venue change at the last minute. Initially scheduled for Muri Okunola Park, the event shifted to Eko Hotel’s Car Park B to safely accommodate tens of thousands of attendees and the enormous pots and burners required.
Oreoluwa Atinmo, GBfoods Nigeria’s marketing director, framed the event not as a stunt but as a statement. “This is more than just a marketing initiative; it is a celebration of the resilient Nigerian spirit that never settles,” he wrote in a LinkedIn reflection.
For Atinmo, the brand was not only selling cubes and pastes. It was selling a story of perseverance, unity, and cultural pride, with jollof rice as the medium. It was a sophisticated act of brand building: by underwriting a world record, Gino positioned itself not as a follower but as a cultural patron.
Cooking at this scale required a feat of engineering as much as of gastronomy. The pot itself, fabricated over two months, stood six metres across and nearly as tall. It had to be reinforced to withstand heat and weight, since more than four tonnes of rice would eventually be stirred inside it.
Hilda had originally planned for 250 bags of rice, about 5,000 kilograms, but scaled down to 200 bags, about 4,000 kilograms, after safety tests. The ingredients read like a supply chain ledger: 600 kilograms of oil, hundreds more of onions and peppers, cartons of tomato paste, and Gino’s new seasoning cubes. Even the gas supply was monumental: about 1,200 kilograms of LPG.
The festival itself unfolded like a carefully scripted drama. In the morning, crews stabilised the pot, checked burners, and mapped crowd lanes. Then came the base, tomato paste, peppers, and onions, stirred by teams of cooks with shovels and paddles. Rice was staged in batches, washed, and tipped in waves to maintain absorption.
The crowd surged as the day wore on. Musicians played, influencers livestreamed, and ordinary Lagosians queued with coolers to carry home portions of history. The rice was ready by evening after nearly nine hours of heat and labour.
Spectacle was one thing, compliance another. Guinness rules demanded precise measurement and that no food be wasted. That requirement brought a lesser-known but critical partner: Food Health Systems Advisory (FHSA).
FHSA’s consultants oversaw hygiene protocols, temperature checks, and safe distribution. Hilda herself staged a symbolic act, scrubbing the giant pot with detergent and new mopsticks to underline her commitment to cleanliness. Critics worried about food safety were met with evidence: every portion was served or donated, and no health incidents were reported.
On September 15, 2025, Guinness World Records confirmed the result: 8,780 kilograms of Nigerian-style jollof rice, 19,356 pounds in total, achieved by Hilda Baci and Gino at Victoria Island.
Hilda summed it up in words that resonated widely: “Nine hours of fire, passion and teamwork… 1,200 kg of gas… 16,600 plates served with joy, love and community”.
The event drew an estimated 20,000 to 30,000 people. Some came for history, others simply for free food. News outlets from Channels TV to Premium Times amplified the moment.
Not everyone was convinced. A few attendees complained about taste or portion size, and social media critics raised the spectre of hygiene. Yet the absence of official health alerts and the FHSA’s visible presence helped blunt the criticism. The larger story held: Nigeria again placed itself on the Guinness map.
The government quickly endorsed the achievement. The Minister of Information, Mohammed Idris, called it “another demonstration of Nigeria’s global excellence” (TVC News report).
Officials framed it as proof of youthful innovation and resilience, encouraging others to channel their energy into similarly constructive ventures.
What unfolded at Eko Hotel was not merely about food. It was a case study in how nations and brands use spectacle to project identity. The Economist might call it culinary diplomacy; the Financial Times would note the marketing spend and logistics footprint.
Consider the numbers: months of planning, a fabricated pot, tonnes of ingredients, industrial gas supply, hundreds of staff and volunteers, and a festival infrastructure with music, security, and crowd management. It was as much a corporate campaign as a cultural celebration.
For Gino, the payoff was clear. By underwriting the event, the brand did not simply advertise products. It embedded itself in memory, national pride, and Nigeria’s food culture story.
Food is not just sustenance. It is symbolism. By scaling up jollof rice to Guinness dimensions, Hilda Baci and Gino made a statement about Nigeria’s place in global culture. They turned a dish into a spectacle, a festival into a record, and a marketing initiative into a moment of national pride.
The challenge now is what comes next. Guinness itself noted that the category of Ghanaian-style jollof rice remains open. The Jollof Wars are not over. They have been raised to a new, Guinness-certified altitude.
In the end, perhaps the record was not only about rice. It was about how food can carry the weight of identity, how a chef can become a cultural ambassador, and how a brand can transform itself into a patron of national pride.
As Oreoluwa Atinmo put it, “Passion, perseverance, and great food brought us together.”
As Lagosians carried their portions of smoky, peppery rice home that night, the message was clear: Jollof is more than food. It is Nigeria, plated.
