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Because Baskin-Robbins and their tenacious legal team already dibsed the 31's, the Ice Cream Bar is all about the '30s. Designed by a former Kezar Pub co-owner and opening tomorrow, the parlor homages that decade with three different bars, black marble tables, and enough Ayn Randian decoration to fit into any level of Bioshock: art deco tiles, porthole mirrors, glowing blue diamond lights, and presumably soon, terrifyingly dead-eyed children.

Avoid them, and check out the retro stainless steel 'n glass case housing a dozen or so self-described “Adult Ice Cream” flavors, with from-scratch varieties like butterscotch rye and bourbon pecan, not to be confused with Bourbon Picard, Patrick Stewart’s nickname after he and Worf played an epic game of Flip, Sip, or Strip. There's also a room-dominating vintage backbar equipped with a soda-fountain and manned by a Rickhouse barstud/Bartender of the Year nominee who'll mix up classics like the For Bobby Long (chocolate syrup, fountain soda, phosphate, hellfire tincture) and a chicory coffee float dubbed the New Orleans Hangover, so please, please don't go to this place with a sequel-hungry Todd Phillips.

In a couple weeks, ICB will unveil its full menu (graced by high-end hot dogs and Gruyere grilled cheese), and soon thereafter, will add beer and wine, making it a solid destination for, well, anyone in their 30s.

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