One of the newest installments in the George Abou-Daoud Hollywood empire is the The Mercantile, holding court in a historic Spanish-style building on Sunset with its big sister, District, right next door. I admit I first visited The Mercantile with the hopes that it would mesh with my earliest connotation of the word: Little House on the Prairie—remember, Oleson’s Mercantile? But the place does actually live up to its old-timey name: There are dry goods stacked along a wall, exposed weathered wood planks like what Pa might have cut down at the mill, and some prim Victorian-esque parlor chairs that look like they were stuffed to cradle a corset.
On a recent night we went to The Mercantile to drink rosé and IPA and eat some gloriously gooey cheese that, frankly, they never would have gotten in Walnut Grove. And when it was time for dessert, how could I not indulge my inner Laura and choose from one of the six house-made ice cream flavors (which are also available for to-go scoops)?
True, we only tasted one flavor but it was truly memorable: Vanilla bourbon malt. The bourbon was sweet and slightly smoky with the tiny vanilla seeds exploding like Flavor Crystals™ on the tongue. But the malt, the malt, is what really made it, lingering in the background during the vanilla-bourbon interlude, only popping up there at the end for a hearty, beer-esque bow. I suggest donning a bonnet and heading over there for a cone as soon as you’re done with your chores.
Where to find this? How to get there on public transportation? Find out on Gelatobaby’s GeLAtomap!