San Francisco Mission District Ice Cream Tour

Greetings from the City by the Bay, my beloved desert refugees! I've escaped the Arizona heat (temporarily) for the foggy embrace of San Francisco, specifically the vibrant Mission District. This neighborhood is famous for its murals, its burritos, and—as I've recently discovered—its absolutely stellar ice cream scene. The Mission has everything from century-old institutions to hip newcomers experimenting with flavors I couldn't have imagined. I've spent three days eating my way through it all, and my only regret is that I have but one stomach to give.

I started at the most iconic spot in the neighborhood: a sundae shop that's been serving San Franciscans since the 1950s. They're famous for their banana splits and hot fudge sundaes, and let me tell you, the hype is real. The hot fudge is made in-house, thick and bittersweet, poured over mounds of vanilla ice cream, topped with hand-whipped cream and a cherry so perfect it looks fake. The interior hasn't changed in decades—same chrome stools, same neon signs, same magical ambiance. A kind elderly gentleman sitting next to me asked if I was a "art project or something." I told him I was a traveling cactus. He nodded sagely and went back to his sundae. Classic San Francisco energy.

The Mission is also home to some incredible small-batch ice cream makers pushing creative boundaries. I found a spot that does a Vietnamese coffee ice cream that tastes exactly like the real thing—sweet, strong, with that distinctive chicory note. Same shop makes ube (purple yam) ice cream that's become a neighborhood obsession. Another place down the street specializes in Mexican flavors: mango with tajín, Mexican chocolate with cinnamon and a hint of heat, and an horchata ice cream that made me want to weep with joy. The Latino heritage of the Mission shines through in these flavors, and it's beautiful.

One of my favorite discoveries was a tiny shop run by two former tech workers who quit their jobs to make ice cream full-time. Their signature flavor? Honey lavender with a swirl of olive oil. Sounds weird, tastes transcendent. They source their honey from hives on a rooftop in Oakland, their lavender from a farm in Sonoma, and their olive oil from a family grove in California's Central Valley. This is peak San Francisco: artisanal, sustainable, delicious, and explained to you in great detail by very enthusiastic people. I respect the commitment.

The weather in San Francisco is perfect for ice cream in a counterintuitive way. It's rarely hot, which means your cone won't melt before you finish it. You can take your time, savor each lick, without the desperate race against dripping that you face in warmer climates. I spent a lovely afternoon at Dolores Park, eating salted caramel ice cream, watching dogs play and tech bros do yoga, and appreciating the foggy skyline. A woman doing a handstand nearby told me my green color was "very on-brand for the Bay Area." I'll take it.

If you're planning a Mission ice cream crawl, my advice is to come hungry and wear stretchy pants. Start with a classic sundae for historical context, then hop between the innovative shops to taste what's new. The neighborhood is walkable and beautiful, with murals on nearly every building telling stories of the community's history and culture. Between stops, you can duck into a taquería for a burrito that costs half what you'd pay elsewhere in the city. San Francisco may be expensive, but the Mission keeps it real—and keeps it delicious. Until next time, stay frosty, San Francisco! 🌵🍦🌁