The ice cream in Philadelphia that we absolutely melt for

Anthony’s anchors a nostalgic corner of the Italian Market, and the atmosphere is unbeatable:  You’ll settle down to eat your gelato on a church pew while gazing at old family portraits, the air redolent with the scent of coffee beans roasting. The large gelato cups are one of the spectacular bargains of South Philly, piled high with two towering scoops for $7. Sweeter, airier, stretchier, and less dense than gelato you’d find in say, Florence — or Center City’s Gran Caffe L’Aquila — flavors veer from your Nonna’s kitchen to the cookie aisle at Acme. The tiramisu gelato, served with a whole lady finger protruding from it, is so booze-laden that it’s almost an amaretto slushie, while the stracciatella tastes of fresh cream swirled with thin chocolate threads. Still, the creamy, nutty pistachio reigns supreme. — Kiki Aranita

The marble counter at Bassetts Ice Cream in Reading Terminal Market is the original slab that Quaker schoolteacher Lewis Dubois Bassett laid down while building his white-tiled shop along the market’s 12th Street windows in advance of its 1893 opening. By then, Bassett was an old hand at ice cream, having set up a mule-powered churn on his farm in Salem, N.J., in 1861. (Tomato was an early flavor.) There is good reason that Bassetts, at 164 years old, is the oldest ice cream maker in America: Now run by its sixth generation, the company uses the same base recipe that L.D. Bassett perfected over the years, keeping the butterfat around 16% for optimal creaminess. It also  does not skimp on the scoops. Sure, I like the hauntingly rich dark chocolate once in a while and I’ll order a dip of rum raisin to remember my Aunt Fran, who gleefully insisted that it gave her the same buzz that one of her beloved mai tais would. But for me, it’s Bassetts’ (anything-but-plain) vanilla — which accounts for a quarter of sales. That’s the gold standard by which I judge all ice cream. — Michael Klein

Aspen Simone’s revelatory moment was a gelato course at Gelateria del Teatro in Rome. Now sharing a homey, welcoming space with artisanal bakery Underbite Bites in Bella Vista, Simone is turning out distinctive Italian-inspired flavors. The star is a chai-like flavor called pasticceria Siciliana, the result of an experiment during which Simone and a friend combined roasted barley, cardamom, citrus peel, and cinnamon. Besides Lancaster County milk, they use locally farmed produce, like the sage and raspberries in the salvia e lampone, while classic stracciatella is elevated with house-made dark-chocolate chips. Vegan flavors include the taboo chocolate, which is simply five kinds of chocolate, cocoa, sugar, water, and a little bit of magic. — Michael Klein

What’s a good gelato choice at Darin and Amy Carminati’s cute shops, located just five minutes apart in Eastern Montgomery County? Everything we’ve tried. Beyond the basics (vanilla, chocolate, coffee), the lineup constantly changes — 10 total, all small-batch and made from local milk from Tanner Bros. — and you can check out the menu board via Instagram. When the signs say “salted caramel swirl” or “pistachio,” that’s your cue to pop over for a generous scoop. Backstory: Nearly a decade ago, Darin Carminiti was a bartender and waiter at Ambler’s From the Boot restaurant when he noticed that no one was using the gelato machine. He borrowed it, taught himself to make gelato in his home kitchen, and turned pro.  — Michael Klein

West Oak Lane-raised Galen Thomas got into gelato-making a decade ago thinking he could infuse it with CBD and create a unique edible. When he realized that the laws could be a gray area, however, he gave up that idea. He was left with a recipe for creamy, tasty gelato — like a cloud, you might say — and he began creating flavors to sell scoops at fairs and festivals through a mobile cart and later out of a counter inside the former Pizza Brain in Kensington. He now has two retail locations dispensing 36 flavors at a time from a roster of 150. There’s his dreamy-looking production space at Kensington’s MaKen Studios South and now the entire Pizza Brain storefront, which he took over. Never too sweet, his fruit flavors (e.g. mango and berry mafia) pop refreshingly, while such treats as banana pudding (inspired by his grandmother’s recipe), Froot Loops, and honey lavender show off his range. — Michael Klein

Nick Corso owned a robotic welding equipment company but his true passion is the gelato he’d savored on trips to Tuscany with his wife, Kim Corso. So Nick went to Carpigiani Gelato University in Bologna and has brought a taste of Northern Italy back to a little strip mall in Sewell, where the couple painted an evocative mural of Piazza della Cisterna in San Gimignano across their store’s wall. Most importantly, they began churning out some of the best classic gelato in the region. A tart puree of sour amarena cherries, layered like a ruby ripple through creamy white fior di latte gelato, is Nick’s personal passion. I was also moved by the Sicilian pistachio, the chocolate-hazelnut crunch of the Ferrero Rocher, and the cioccolato fondente, an 85% bittersweet so dark it’s like savoring midnight in a cone. The silky, almost fluffy, texture of these paddled scoops is true to the tradition of gelato, which is made here daily in small batches from Lancaster County milk and held at a slightly warmer temperature than ice cream. With 18 flavors a day keeping them busy, Nick sold the robotics business and now, on year three, is churning 300-plus pounds a day for this corner of Gloucester County known as an enclave of expat Italian families from South Philly. Now that word is traveling back across the bridge that his gelato is worth crossing state lines for, the Corsos are likely going to churn even more. — Craig LaBan

Justine MacNeil honed her talent for gelato as executive pastry chef at New York’s famed Del Posto. So when the pandemic challenged the survival of Fiore, the Italian restaurant she owns with husband Ed Crochet, she turned to it for the ultimate pivot, forging a community of devoted fans who then faithfully followed the couple when they moved the restaurant from South Philly to Kensington in 2023. Gelato has remained a draw, both for the composed desserts (espresso-splashed affogatos!) and for take-out scoops and pints. MacNeil estimates she’s produced over 300 varieties, but it’s the chef’s touch that sets her apart, whether it’s using black raspberries from Three Springs Farm or Fiore’s own brown butter blondies. MacNeil’s ultimate move is chocolate, a frozen elixir of Tuscan Amedei chocolate and French Cacao Barry that is one of the most intensely dark yet perfectly sweetened scoops I’ve ever devoured. My only note is that, due to the limitations of their current equipment, Fiore keeps its gelato a few degrees colder (and thus firmer) than the ideal. — Craig LaBan

First, let me dispel a myth often overheard while standing in line at this picture-perfect historical reproduction of a 1900s-era soda fountain: This is not the oldest ice cream parlor in America. (You don’t have to go far: It’s Bassett’s, in the Reading Terminal, whose retail counter dates back to 1892.) This gorgeous, year-round Old City shop is worth waiting in line for for so many reasons, and the time-transporting decor — belt-driven ceiling fans, pressed-tin walls, an original mosaic tile floor, ornate brass lamps, a bust of Ben Franklin, an old-time cash register — is the least of them. The ice cream is the biggest draw, and rightly so. Franklin Fountain makes its own, using high-fat cream and milk from Leiby’s Dairy in Schuylkill County, and scratch cooks many of the mix-ins, including brownies and apple pie chunks. There are always at least two dozen flavors, mostly classics (Hydrox cookies & cream, rum raisin, peach), some newfangled (sea salt caramel, green tea), some regional and seasonal (teaberry, honeycomb, pawpaw), plus several sorbets and vegan ice creams, housemade with coconut cream. You can deploy scoops in sundaes, milkshakes, ice cream floats with homemade sodas, sandwiches (choose between cookies, brownies, or pretzel buns), or even cakes, but I have yet to be disappointed with a scoop or two in a classic sugar cone or served in the cute cardboard pails ($7.75 for a small, $14.75 for a large/three scoops). Pro tip: If the old-timey atmosphere isn’t a must, you can skip the line and get most of the same things two doors down at Franklin Ice Cream Bar, which has a 1930s Art Deco vibe. — Jenn Ladd

This is the most decidedly Italian gelato in Philly. It is also, according to many, the very best in the city. It’s rich, creamy, and dense, and the flavors are no-nonsense basics, the likes of which you’d see in Rome or Florence: caffe, amaretto, nutella, tiramisu, pistachio, stracciatella, fior di latte, and a smattering of other stalwarts, all made fresh every morning. There are Pennsylvanian touches — the super creamy fior di latte (the star of all the gelati) uses whole milk from Lancaster — but expect imported hazelnuts from Piemonte, pistachios brought in from the base of Mount Etna, and chocolate from Torino. This is the kind of gelato I crave even when the weather is frigid and it’s pouring rain. — Kiki Aranita

Irv’s got its start as an ice cream trolley on the Cherry Street Pier in tandem with La Placita, the Puerto Rican street food stop from Cantina La Martina’s Mariangeli Alicia Saez and Dionicio Jimenez. That explains why the coconut blast of coquito and cinnamon-laced horchata are among its signature flavors. Those hits have followed as Irv’s moved into a brick-and-mortar location in Queen Village this spring, but Ilissa Shapiro, a longtime pastry chef at Talula’s Garden and Talula’s Daily, has expanded into a wide range of flavors built on fresh local ingredients, from vivid strawberry to sweet corn fresh-shucked from Jersey ears. Since Irv’s is named in honor of Shapiro’s grandfather, Irv Sall, who was famous in his Cheltenham neighborhood for a working soda fountain in his basement, there is a measure of nostalgia to its appeal, largely in the full-on richness of the ice cream, which reaches 17% butterfat in some flavors, like butterscotch budino. The heightened indulgence means Shapiro can dial in satisfaction without oversweetening her custard. The scoops here can be as large as six ounces — while that’s generous, it also makes it cumbersome to combine flavors, which end up stacked like cannon balls that must be eaten from top down. I’d suggest just choosing one and going to town, and my pick is the banana-chocolate-tahini, which tastes sort of like a hand-crafted riff on Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, but, instead of walnuts, it comes with a Levantine sesame swirl of Soom tahini. — Craig LaBan

If you like your ice cream in electric hues, you’ve come to the right place. La Guerrerense is a cornerstone of Puebladelphia. The dizzying arrays of ice creams are made in-house at a facility in Delaware in colors that match the shop’s cheerfully checkered pink and aqua linoleum tile. The pina colada has dried pieces of pineapple dispersed throughout, while the chicle-flavored ice cream tastes exactly like bubble gum. The signature booze flavors — chamoy and tequila, my favorite — are so bracing they seem as if they’re little more than liquor whipped into a little bit of cream. Nothing is ever too sweet, and the texture is uniformly fluffy. For $9, you can pack an enormous styrofoam cup with a stack of scoops. — Kiki Aranita

This seasonal State Street scoop shop filled a void in the area’s ice cream scene when it first opened in 2003, providing an accessible nostalgia hit for Chester County’s sizable Latino population and introducing Kennett Square residents to traditional Mexican flavors like corn (the best-seller), avocado, guava & cheese, tamarind, and mamey (a tropical fruit that tastes like a pumpkin crossed with a melon). La Michoacana doesn’t shy away from savory ice cream like queso fresco or their mushroom ice cream bars, made in honor of Kennett’s top crop. But with more than 100 flavors in its arsenal — 38 ice creams plus six sorbets on tap every day — there are plenty of comfortable choices for the less daring: chocolate peanut butter, strawberry & cream, Nutella, rice pudding, coffee Oreo, etc. The shop, owned by Noelia Scharon, Juvenal Gonzalez, and Manuel and Martha Rodriguez, is open March through October, but you can find ice cream year-round at sister establishment Michoacana Grill, also in Kennett Square. Also, keep an eye out for its ice cream cups and paletas (arroz con leche, lime, mango con chile, pico de gallo) in Mexican markets around the area, including El Paisa at 7th and Tasker, Lupita’s Grocery at 9th and Carpenter, and El Pueblito on 69th Street in Upper Darby.  — Jenn Ladd

Bowing earlier this spring off Rittenhouse Square, Malai is already one of Philly’s most distinctive scoop shops. It’s the third location of the mini-chain — following D.C. and the New York original — by owner Pooja Bavishi, who spent her childhood outside Philadelphia. She gives a nod to local nostalgia with a cinnamon honey bun flavor tribute to her favorite Tastykake, but I come to Malai for its deft use of spices, with cardamom-kissed coffee and masala chai favorites, but also less expected combinations like pineapple sparked with pink peppercorns, star anise with strawberry-fennel jam ice cream, or apricot scented with mace. My favorite, though, is one that rides the savory-sweet border in the most thrilling way — a sunshine yellow scoop of golden turmeric ice cream whose buttery dairy base of cream cheese and ghee radiates an earthy undertone of ginger spice. The early long lines and occasionally brusque service have been drawbacks, but there’s nothing else like it in Philly right now, so it’s well worth the fuss. — Craig LaBan

You can’t say you grew up in Montgomery County if you’ve never been to the Rothenberger family’s farm near Lansdale — maybe on a school trip, or to buy produce in the store, or to watch the cows being milked, or take a hayride. The ice cream windows, though, have been Merrymead’s true calling card since 1971. Order at one, pick up at another. Keep the crowd moving. The cows out back are responsible for 32 varieties of dipped ice cream plus two soft serves, and a quarter of the flavors are chocolate. Besides good ol’ chocolate are chocolate chip, chocolate chip cookie dough, chocolate marshmallow, chocolate moo trail, chocolate raspberry chip, chocolate baker’s delight, and — for our money — one of the best renditions of chocolate peanut butter around, with generous ribbons of peanut butter providing a salty counterpoint to the sweet, cold ice cream. — Michael Klein

The origin story of this Philly-inflected ice creamery traces back to 2012, when founder Amy Wilson started making ice cream in her home kitchen as a hobby. Since then, it’s leapfrogged from a pandemic pop-up/delivery service to a brick-and-mortar store to a two-location powerhouse with a wide distribution network for its pints, plus a strong showing in the local farmers market circuit. How to explain its rapid ascent? The product is unbelievably good, as creamy and luscious as it gets. Milk Jawn falls in the new-school camp of ice cream makers, churning out intriguing combos like Earl Grey with honeycomb, lemon curd with blueberry basil swirl, mango sticky rice, and matcha strawberry. Espresso martini as ice cream? They’ve done it. Soft pretzels with beer? That, too. But their shops and pint lineup can also please a purist. Their double-strength vanilla, chocolate, and pistachio are best in class. — Jenn Ladd

It’s a name you won’t forget — a goofy bit of bovine-inspired wordplay that popped into John Fezzuoglio’s head 16 years ago before he opened his first ice cream parlor in an old gas station near Lake Nockamixon in Ottsville, Bucks County. Fezzuoglio, a graphic artist from New York transplanted to the New Hope area, took Penn State’s ice cream course and began churning. Now with five locations, all out in the sticks, Owowcow delivers 24 flavors (12 regular, 12 seasonal, including vegan and dairy-free sorbet, plus flavors for dogs: Bowwowcow, of course). Standouts include cashew caramel (whose roasted nuts hit the gooey caramel just right), sweet honey cream (which tastes just as it sounds, though it’s not cloying), and “I Hate Chocolate” — which you won’t, since who could really hate a scoop of dark chocolate ganache? — Michael Klein

There’s something heartwarming about a family-owned neighborhood ice cream shop, and this Elkins Park staple has been hand-dipping year-round since the ’90s. It’s had three different family owners over the years, but the shop feels remarkably similar to how it looked when I was a kid: Its wallpapered interior is cozy with heart-shaped wire chairs and half-curtains over the big bay windows. (Prices, alas, are less timeless. A kids’ cup goes for $3.25, a large cone goes for $5.50 — honestly, pretty affordable in 2025.) The refrigerated cases are stocked with 30-plus tubs of Nelson’s Ice Cream out of Royersford; count on all the basics, plus lesser-known flavors like Boston cream pie, peanut butter weave, and pomegranate blueberry chunk. The cone varieties are as plentiful as the toppings: sugar, flat and pointed cake, plain and chocolate waffle, Oreo, pretzel, chocolate chip, M&M, and (fittingly) sprinkle. Enjoy your treats in a wooden rocker out front or at one of the old-school chairs inside. Expect a line out the door on summer nights and weekends. Oh, and bring cash or pay with Venmo.  — Jenn Ladd

It’s truly spring and summer when fruit from the nearby fields — peaches, cherries, strawberries — gets folded into the milk and cream from this longtime family farm near Richboro. Tanner’s low-slung supermarket has changed very little since the 1980s — fluorescent-lit, drop-ceilinged, cinderblock-walled, with a counter staffed by scoop-wielding teens. The 30 or so flavors create a buyer’s dilemma. For instance: How many scoop shops offer cherry, cherry vanilla, and cherry chocolate chip? Or peanut butter cup, peanut butter ripple, and peanut butter brownie? The graham slam, ribboned with graham crackers and chocolate marshmallow, is a bestseller. One surprise is the piña colada, whose electrifying yellow hue (think Pantone 101C) might seem to signal teeth-chattering artificialness. In fact, the flavor and color come from real pineapple and shredded coconut. Doubt there are any coconut palms or pineapple plants at this Bucks County farm, but you could make the same argument about chocolate and vanilla, right? — Michael Klein

The clock is ticking on this Mount Airy scoop shop, which announced it will close in December 2025, so get your fix for Black Magic (rich coffee ice cream swirled with dark chocolate cake pieces) while you can. Zsa’s has been a Philly favorite since 2011, when self-taught ice cream maker Danielle Jowdy started vending at farmers markets. She expanded the business slowly, hitting the grocery-store and food-truck circuits before opening a storefront on Germantown Avenue in 2018. The business has been a Northwest Philly staple ever since, slinging crowd-pleasing flavors year-round like funfetti cake, lemon buttermilk, banana pudding, brown butter pecan, and salted caramel ($6 for a single scoop, $8.75 for a double). Don’t miss the signature ice cream sandwiches, made with brown sugar chocolate chip cookies or dark chocolate wafers, or the “cake” cake cones — a cake cone stuffed with your choice of cake and a scoop of ice cream. — Jenn Ladd