Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams

Where Pela Mesa obsesses over Mediterranean technique and Kin Len commits to northern Thai fundamentalism, Jeni's walks in selling *brambleberry crisp* and *darkest chocolate* and somehow gets away with it. The difference is texture—this isn't novelty ice cream propped up by concept, it's dense, butterfat-forward scoops that taste like the flavor descriptions weren't written by a marketing intern. The goat cheese with red cherries doesn't just hint at tang; it commits. The salted peanut butter with chocolate flecks delivers actual roasted depth.

The 30th Street location functions as a post-dinner anchor for couples who just dropped real money at Tiger!Tiger! or groups coming off a beer flight at Modern Times. It's expensive—$23 for two people shows up in reviews like a grievance—but the line moves fast and the staff will let you sample four flavors without judgment. Order the waffle cone if you're committing; skip it if you're grabbing pints to go.

The vibe is aggressively cheerful in a way that clashes with North Park's indie affect, but the product backs it up. This is a neighborhood that takes its beer and coffee seriously enough to be skeptical of chains, and Jeni's survives here because the brambleberry crisp isn't a gimmick—it's an actual flavor built on fruit that tastes like fruit. The double chocolate situation (they call it "darkest chocolate") goes hard enough that it works as a palate reset after Thai basil or Mediterranean lamb.

Parking is the usual 30th Street nightmare. Walk here if you can. The freezer case stocks pints if you want to skip the scoop ritual, and they move inventory fast enough that flavors rotate before they get stale. Not the weirdest thing North Park has embraced, and definitely not the worst chain decision the neighborhood has made.