Ben & Jerry's

**What makes this different:** While the Gaslamp's taco joints fight over late-night crowds and authenticity credentials, Ben & Jerry's just sits there near Seaport Village doing what it does everywhere else—scooping premium ice cream at premium prices, unapologetically corporate, zero pretense about being local. It's the anti-Gaslamp play: predictable flavors, familiar branding, the kind of reliable sweetness tourists want after walking the harbor.

The chocolate fudge brownie and chocolate chip cookie dough move units because people know what they're getting. Staff runs friendly and fast, which matters when you're positioned for foot traffic coming off the water. Indoor seating is minimal—this is grab-and-walk territory, designed for people heading back to hotels or continuing their Seaport loop. They also stock dog ice cream (peanut butter, pumpkin), which is very San Diego even if the chain isn't.

Pricing stings—$12-15 for two scoops, $15 for a sundae that reviews say melts too fast, $30 for two milkshakes. You're paying for location and brand recognition, not local charm. The waffle cone smell pulls people in from twenty feet away, which is the entire strategy. On cooler evenings when harbor wind picks up, it works. On hot afternoons when ice cream turns to soup before you finish, less so.

This isn't a go-to for locals—it's the spot you hit when out-of-towners need something familiar, when you're already at Seaport and the kid wants ice cream, when you don't feel like gambling on an unknown dessert spot. The Gaslamp has plenty of independent places with more soul. Ben & Jerry's has name recognition and harbor-front real estate. Sometimes that's enough.