The 21 best ice cream shops in America

The New York Times called it the best ice cream in the world—just one of the many accolades the Cambridge shop/café has collected since it was co-founded by Steve's alum Gus Rancatore in 1981. Toscanini’s continues to push the flavor boundaries with such intriguing and satisfying combinations as B3 (brownies, brown sugar, brown butter) and the amazing burnt caramel, which was actually created by accident. But if you insist on gilding the lily, order a “micro sundae,” a small scoop topped with house-made hot fudge, whipped cream, nuts and sprinkles.

A family-run Chinatown institution for more than 45 years, this popular scoop shop sells durian, pandan, red bean and other lesser-seen ice cream varieties. The place is compact, so plan on taking this perfect treat for a walk through the neighborhood.

With dozens of scoop shops across the country today and a spot in thousands of grocery story shelves, Jeni’s ice cream has become a household name. But Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams has its roots in founder Jeni Bauer’s buttermilk-based recipe that she debuted at an Ohio farmers market, and the scoop shops pay homage to Jeni’s early days experimenting with unique flavors. Today, sweet teeth are satisfied with options like Brambleberry Crisp, Gooey Butter Cake, and Texas Sheet Cake.

Azucar owner Suzy Batlle takes the best flavor combinations from her childhood and churns them into delicious “Cuban” ice cream, including the wildly popular Abuela Maria—vanilla ice cream, Maria crackers, guava and cream cheese. The dairy queen can often be found concocting new flavors from local ingredients, such as a creation with Knaus Berry Farm: cinnamon buns soaked in bourbon.

Bi-Rite’s creamy salted caramel ice cream launched the craze for this heavenly pairing in San Francisco, and it’s still the bar that all others strive to reach. Since then, it has introduced other taste sensations that have garnered cult followings, like balsamic strawberry, brown sugar with ginger caramel swirl, honey lavender, basil and ricanelas (cinnamon with snickerdoodle cookies). Next door, the bake shop features house-made cupcakes, cookies and seasonal sweets. The Creamery is the offshoot of the gourmet Bi-Rite Market down the street, so if the line is too long, you can always opt for a pint or a quart from the store.

Since launching Salt & Straw in 2011, Kim and Tyler Malek have been liberating ice cream from the dessert course with their farm-to-freezer haute cuisine. The cousins essentially operate as restaurateurs and chefs, working with local brewers, chocolatiers, and other craft purveyors as well as farmers to present an ever-changing list of scoops that reads like any upscale menu today—melon and prosciutto, foie gras, and peanut butter; bone marrow and bourbon-smoked cherry. The brand has grown rapidly over the last decade, with more than 40 shops around the country today, many of which resemble hip bistros, with their reclaimed materials and custom artworks. 

This “farm to spoon” ice cream shop boasts hundreds of award-winning flavor combinations: think Ricotta Pistachio, Lemon Lilac, and Sun Gold Tomato Sorbet. While the ice cream is the star, The Bent Spoon has also been churning out another sweet treat: mini cupcakes available in chocolate or yellow cake with buttercream. And, when it’s seasonally appropriate, round it all out with a cup of their famous hot chocolate.

Plain-Jane flavors get their due at this soda-shop throwback from pastry-bag-wielding restaurateur Nicholas Morgenstern (Goat Town, El Rey). Morgenstern’s gives scoop purists five creamy, extremely vanilla-y vanillas (bourbon, Madagascar, burnt honey, maple and angel food) to choose from. Succumb to the gluttony and get them all in the colossal King Kong Banana Split.

PSU’s beloved “cow-to-cone” operation, Berkey Creamery, has been milking its reputation for 150 years—literally. The university’s own dairy cattle do their part to ensure the ice cream couldn’t be fresher. Though the production facility doubles as a research lab, sheer wholesome quality trumps innovation here; still, the weekly changing selection of flavors does have its twists—think Apple Cobbler Crunch with pie pieces and a swirl of applesauce or the marshmallow-packed Coffee with Cream and Sugar. 

For more than 95 years, the awning-covered picnic tables of the Far South Side’s Original Rainbow Cone have been packed with locals indulging their sweet tooths. The signature five-flavor Rainbow Cone features scoops of chocolate, strawberry, Palmer House (vanilla with cherries and walnuts), pistachio and orange sherbet stacked one on top of the other for an unbeatable classic.

Forget the vanilla. At Mashti Malone’s, a small ice cream shop in a Hollywood strip mall now with two outposts, you’ll find delicately perfumed Persian ice cream in exotic flavors such as rosewater saffron, orange blossom, creamy mango and herbal snow. Go crazy with your tastings—the staff is patient when you ask to try five different flavors—but know that the more you try, the harder it will be to narrow down your scoop selection.

Ample Hills began with husband-and-wife team Brian Smith and Jackie Cuscuna’s Prospect Heights scoop shop and today multiple locations churn out ever-changing, off-the-wall flavors that will please inner and actual kids alike. Snap Mallow Pop, an überrich, jet-puffed marshmallow number studded with crunchy, toasted rice-cereal nibs, is as comforting as bake sale Rice Krispies Treats.

This pint-size ice cream parlor comes courtesy of Victoria Lai, a former lawyer who churned her love of sweets into a full-time vocation. The original shop, which overlooks the Anacostia River, turns traditional flavors on their heads with creative concoctions like caramel popcorn and cardamom with black pepper. Lai also makes a mean Thai iced tea, which is a vibrant orange and goes down easy.

The look is old-school—pink walls, checkerboard floors—and so is the approach to craft: small batches, local ingredients and influences. The results Creole Creamery delivers, however, are anything but. Cayenne and chicory root, sassafras and Scotch bonnet peppers, Doberge cake and bananas Foster, café au lait and loads of booze: In paying homage to New Orleans’ proud culinary past, this two-branch hometown hero is helping to shape its future. For outright originality, meanwhile, how about a scoop of smoked gouda, buttered lemon–pine nut, or roasted-red-pepper–pineapple? 

With a mission to “radically shift the way you think about ice cream,” Frankie & Jo's vegan scoop shop, with three locations around Seattle and an outpost in Marin, California, churns out offerings that rely on fruits and vegetables for the freshest flavors. From Chocolate Tahini Supercookie to Beet Strawberry Rose to Potato Chip Caramel Crunch, the flavors are unique but familiar and rely on seasonal inspiration. (The Summer Sangria, packed with organic strawberries, orange, and pineapple, is not to be missed; the California Cabin is a winner, too, with a smoked vanilla and pine base dotted with black pepper cardamom shortbread cookie bits.)

Don’t mind the plain storefront: A constant line out the door is decoration enough for Sam Kopicko and Chia Basinger, who reserve their artistic powers for the kitchen—churning out endlessly inventive flavors and receiving countless national accolades in the process. At Sweet Action, we’re talking honey cornbread, tequila-jalapeño cream cheese, molasses-peppercorn and even sour-cream-and-chive, as well as a slew of one-offs spiked with local beers and spirits.

Walk into Scooter’s and disregard the hot dogs, Italian ice and anything else that doesn’t contain the words frozen and custard. Order a Boston shake and quiver in awe as the towering milkshake topped with hot fudge and whipped cream is handed over. As you taste how dense, thick, buttery and rich the custard is, you’ll soon be on your way to a full stomach and an ice-cream headache. And it’ll be worth it.

Chef Helen Yung puts her training at Le Cordon Bleu to good use in creations as tastefully chic as the digs they’re dished up in: coconut-cashew curry, lemon-shiso leaf, honey-blue cheese. But it’s the lavish sundaes she and Sweet Republic partner Jan Wichayanuparp offer at their Scottsdale, Phoenix, and Tempe locations that have earned the adulation of Arizonans of all ages—every element is house-made from top (bacon brittle, salted caramel sauce) to bottom (waffle bowls).

Against all climatic odds, New England has long been a hotbed of ice-cream ingenuity. Mount Desert Island Ice Cream—Linda Parker’s artsy, blue-hued trio of scoop shops in Bar Harbor and Portland, Maine—honors that heritage, combining the quaint charm of the seashore with a cosmopolitan flair. On the one hand, you get such nostalgic nods to regional cookery as Indian pudding and blueberry-sour-cream crumble; on the other hand, you get savory-toned, modern flavors like celery leaf, chocolate-wasabi and miso-butterscotch. What you don’t have is three hands, which is too bad, because then you could get a Chiller (Parker’s sorbet-based take on a Slurpee) to boot. New locations in Japan and Washington, D.C. have brought Linda's flavors to global markets.

Amid increasingly fierce competition (looking at you, Lick), Lone Star State franchise Amy’s remains an institution on the strength, not just of long-established quality but also of Bat City–bred nuttiness. Amy Simmons’s team of trendsetters has developed more than 300 flavors, among them such headshaking oddities as the vodka- and brine-infused Pickle Shot and the Mexican vanilla-based Doña Salsa (that’s right, salsa, courtesy of fellow local fixture Tacodeli). Not that you can’t stick with good old chocolate—no one’s trying to keep Austin that weird.

Nearly 60 years ago, the owners of this wood-paneled country kitchen offered (in addition to their signature breaded-pork tenderloin sandwiches) milkshakes and sundaes in three flavors. Hooray for progress: Today you get a mind-melting 100 choices, be it the Sticks & Stones—a chocolate shake with pretzels and cookie dough chunks—or the cherry-nougat sundae, vanilla soft-serve topped with marshmallow fluff, maraschinos and pecans. Artisanal, Ivanhoe’s is not; an iconic slice—or rather scoop—of Americana, it most certainly is.