At Lagos’ Gino World Jollof Festival, the celebrity chef set a Guinness World Record with 8,780 kilograms of steaming jollof, feeding tens of thousands and stirring national pride.
By David Oladimeji
In the heart of Victoria Island, Lagos, something magical bubbled in a giant pot this past weekend—steam, spices, and dreams mixed to produce what is now a Guinness World Record. Celebrity Chef Hilda Baci has once again made history, this time cooking the largest serving of Nigerian-style jollof rice—to the tune of 8,780 kilograms (19,356 pounds 9 ounces).
The stage was set at Eko Hotels & Suites, Lagos, during the much-anticipated Gino World Jollof Festival. Thousands gathered, music filled the air, and the tantalising aroma of tomato, spice, and smoke wrapped itself around expectant mouths. This was no ordinary cooking event—it was a celebration.
For Hilda Baci, born Hilda Effiong Bassey in Akwa Ibom, this was more than a record attempt—it was a statement: about culture, community, and culinary pride. She has built a reputation for daring challenges. In 2023, her cook-a-thon of 93 hours 11 minutes earned global attention.
The technical demands were immense. A custom-made steel pot six metres wide and equally imposing in height was fabricated for the event. Its capacity: 22,619 litres. The plan was to cook 250 bags of basmati rice, but pre-event weighing issues forced the scale back to 200 bags—still enough for a monumental achievement.
To preserve the integrity of jollof’s flavor while cooking on such an industrial scale, precision of ingredients was vital. Hilda and her team used 4,000 kg of washed basmati rice, met ingredient percentage rules (rice had to be at least 80% of total weight), added 164 kg of goat meat, 220 kg of Gino Asun & Peppered Chicken Cubes, her signature 600 kg jollof pepper mix, and even aromatics like onions, garlic, and a collection of spices.
Fueling the operation literally meant gas galore: 1,200 kilograms of gas were used. It was nine hours of heating, stirring, tasting, adjusting—an endurance test not just of kitchen appliances but of human resolve.
The event was free. Everyone who came got a chance to share not just the food, but in the very act of making it and witnessing it. Over 30,000 people were served in takeaway packs, and many others ate on site. Some brought coolers to collect extra rice. The aim: no spoilage, no waste.
There were high emotions: joy, pride, exhaustion, satisfaction. Hilda herself spoke of “fire, passion and teamwork” as central to realizing the feat. At one point, she broke into tears reading messages of support online. For many, this was more than food: it was a unifier.
Celebrities and notable figures showed up. Names like Funke Akindele, Tomike Adeoye, Enioluwa Adeoluwa, and Ogun State First Lady Bamidele Abiodun were among those in attendance, cheering, dancing, and adding the glamour missing from a simple kitchen.
The visuals themselves were breathtaking: the massive pot being cleaned by Hilda, laughter and crowds in anticipation, long wooden paddles stirring rice stretching across human arms, and the glitter of stage lights playing off the steam. It was a theatre of cooking.
But beyond the spectacle, the logistics were grueling. Tests and rehearsals preceded the day—the pot had to be delivered in the early hours (around 4 a.m.), cleaning had to be exact, scaling of ingredients meticulous, safety and hygiene firmly in view. Every detail mattered.
The planning had begun months before. From sourcing materials for the pot, fabricating it (three months), assembling it, calculating proportions—these were not afterthoughts. The difference between mere ambition and achievement lay in the groundwork.
Once cooking began, it was a rhythm—a choreography of scooping, stirring, feeding the flame, managing crowds, and keeping morale high. Musical performances, live entertainment, and communal energy sustained the momentum. Soundtracks, laughter, hunger, and hope: food festivals are as much about the soul as about sustenance.
Crucially, Guinness World Records had stipulated strict rules. The rice had to make up at least 80% of the total weight; none of the food could be wasted; distribution had to be fair; ingredients measured and verified. These are the invisible guards between a claim and a true record.
The final weight—8,780 kg—was confirmed after all measurements. With that, Hilda Baci and Gino Nigeria emerged victorious. The GWR announcement came on September 15, 2025, with the world now formally recognizing what Lagosers had already known: this was monumental.
But what does such a feat mean beyond the record books? For many Nigerians, it is validation—of their tastes, their culture, their capacity for scale. Jollof rice has long been more than a dish; it is identity, friendly rivalry, memory. This event tied all that together.
It also signals what can happen when creativity, community, and resource mobilization align. Partnerships matter: Gino Nigeria’s role, the volunteer teams, media attention, crowd support—all coalesced in service of one giant pot. In doing so, Baci underscored that large-scale creative works are possible when logistical courage is matched with popular will.
For Chef Hilda, it adds another chapter to her story of defying expectation. The cook-a-thon record was huge. This is different—less about endurance against time, more about endurance against scale, against logistical complexity. It’s a different kind of mountain to climb.
There are lessons here too. Authenticity wins: she didn’t shy away from Nigerian flavour even as she scaled up. Waste must be considered. Spectacle alone is not enough. And perhaps most importantly, community underlies success: those who showed up, those who helped, those who ate, all were part of the achievement.
As the smell of jollof cooking dies down, what remains is more than empty plates. What remains is a story: of ambition, belonging, and food that unites. Lagos will talk about that pot for years. Nigeria will taste of it in memory. And the world—GWR and beyond—will remember Hilda Baci’s pot, her people’s celebration, their flavour, threaded together in steaming pride.
