I've driven past B & G Milkyway East on Sycamore dozens of times without stopping — one of those spots you assume is just another soft-serve window until someone who knows better tells you otherwise. It sits there in a low brick building that could be a tax office or a copy shop, except for the steady stream of families pulling into the parking lot on random Tuesday nights.
The ice cream here is legitimately made in-house, which matters more than you'd think in a city where most "premium" spots are scooping pre-made bases shipped from Minneapolis. I watched them mixing a batch of mint chip through the service window once — actual cream, actual mint, chips folded in by hand. The texture comes out dense and cold, the kind that doesn't melt into soup before you finish your cone.
The east location gets less foot traffic than the original on Minnesota Avenue, which means shorter lines but the same recipes. I've seen the place packed at 9 PM in July — kids still in soccer cleats, couples on what looks like first dates, a guy in scrubs who clearly just got off shift at Avera. The picnic tables out front face the parking lot, not a park or a view, but people still sit there eating sundaes like it's the best part of their day.
The flavors rotate but never get too experimental — this isn't the place trying to win you over with lavender honey or bourbon bacon. Chocolate. Vanilla. Strawberry. Sometimes butter pecan. The menu feels almost defiant in its simplicity, like they decided a long time ago what they were good at and stuck with it.
It's not Instagram lighting or reclaimed wood booths. It's a building on Sycamore with really good ice cream and nowhere comfortable to sit. And somehow that's exactly enough.
— Grace
I watched them mixing a batch of mint chip through the service window once — actual cream, actual mint, chips folded in by hand.