On the corner of State and N 6th. St. in downtown Redlands, a new ice cream shop, Lappert’s Ice Cream, lays its roots right next to Nicho’s La Michoacana Ice Cream, which has enjoyed their spot on the block since 2017. With only a slim sliver of space between them, the question is begged: Is the new arrival a friend or a foe?
Since August of 2017, Nicho’s La Michoacana, or Nicho’s, as the endearing abbreviation goes, has meant many things to the Redlands community. A glorious respite from Southern California’s scorching heat, a colorful addition to the cool-toned palette of Redlands and, of course, a wonderland of delicious goodies. Their goal in opening, stated family owner in 2017, was to offer fresh, Michoacana-style treats to a community that may not have knowledge of Mexican flavors.
A new inhabitant is making a home where Dirtbag Coffee once operated. The Hawaii-based chain Lappert’s Ice Cream – whose second closest location is in Palm Springs – bought a one-way ticket to State Street in November 2023 and appears to be flourishing since. They are, according to the official Lappert’s website, “eager and excited to be a part of the vibrant and growing Redlands community,” which is “one of the very few stores that is allowed to feature the Lappert’s Ice Cream name.”
With a full shop, pedestrians passing in awe, and continued local chatter about the newcomer, Lappert’s is already a prominent name to many Redlands folk. But what does this mean for Nicho’s? Is it like adding another male betta fish to a small tank of one? Or is it more like bringing two together in holy matrimony? I set out to investigate how two entities specializing in the same product can coexist in such a small pond.
What I found is that the pond is not so small, after all. While the two may be stuck at the hip, with as little privacy as conjoined twins, their personalities are different as night and day.
Inviting weary travelers and already-too-hyper children inside for a cool bite is a handsome sign outside of Nicho’s that reads “Homemade Ice Cream Since 2017.” I enter, delighted by the clean air and nostalgic melodies of Nirvana, The Cure, and Smashing Pumpkins. A young woman with bangs dyed red greets me with a smile and eagerly, but patiently, awaits my order. Should I get the famous raspado, shaved ice with eleven flavors to choose from? Or a cup of elote, a delicious salad-like cup of corn, mayo, cheese, lime juice, and spice… Or a banana split or a milkshake or…! After much indecision, I commit to a coconut paleta. As she rings me up, I salivate at the collection of Mexican candy and snacks by the register: tajin, tamarindo, Lucas, chicharrones de harina (pinwheel chips), Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. I mentioned that they changed their menu, which was on a small board instead of the chalkboard that spanned almost half the wall. She explains to me that it is a temporary new home for the menu while they redesign how it is displayed on the chalkboard.
I take a seat by the wide front windows, on which is taped note that reads: “Seats reserved for Nicho’s customers only! Thank you! :).” A man returns a chair to one of the tables from where he was sitting a dozen feet away. A few minutes earlier, he and four others had walked by Nicho’s, each with their own personal ice cream. In his hand, the biggest ice cream sundae I have ever seen. You can guess where it was from. Lappert’s. They relish in this small but powerful way to battle the heat, laughing and licking ice cream as it melts down their arms.
Curiosity leads me to the front again, where I gaze at the t-shirts hung up on the wall. One is black with a simple “Nicho’s” logo on the front and on the back a colorful loteria card featuring three paletas. The same employee who helped me explains that the other shirt — an abstract collage of a skull, graffiti font, and Neapolitan colors — was a collaboration with an artist. That same wall was also to be under future construction, a plan to impress a great Redlands mural upon it.
I pop the big question. What has it been like with a new shop right next door?
At first it was really complicated and hard, she says, with a look that means there’s much more to the story. In the first couple weeks, business slowed down. It’s human nature to be curious, to see what the new kid on the block is all about. But alas, equilibrium returned. Her final word was that business was actually good — stable, at least. Nicho’s has its “regulars”, the stalwarts that call this place home. “So there’s something Nicho’s has that Lappert’s just doesn’t?” I asked. She nodded and agreed. When Lappert’s first came in, she recalled, some customers vehemently vowed to “never step foot” there out of loyalty to Nicho’s. The initial exhilaration of novelty is often completely irresistible. But to many, Nicho’s is a home. And the flavors of home are hard to beat.
I slip out of Nicho’s, past their reserved tables, and just a few feet to the entrance of Lappert’s. As a sleek Tanzanian savanna lies witness to hoards of majestic zebras, I stand in suspended awe as an army of tiny children in party hats and grinning adults (also in party hats, but with the delicious proportions that only a fully-grown, adult head and a small party hat can create) pour from the front door. Their glee is contagious and reverberating. When the last ones trickled out, and I finally made it through the door, the stillness was loud, almost harrowing. These employees must be tired, I thought.
Austrian-born, American entrepreneur Walter Lappert was a jack of all trades. But two things ignited his passions the most: Hawaii and ice cream. In 1983, his dreams of opening a store that makes and sells ice cream in Hanapepe in Kauai County, Hawaii, “his favorite place in the world to visit,” finally came true.
The company itself is split into two sections. One being Lappert’s Hawaii, whose locations exclusively span the islands, and the other being Lappert’s Ice Cream, which can be found at fifteen locations — now sixteen with Redlands on the map — between California and Arizona.
Anyone who has been to Disneyland’s Tiki Room will understand Lappert’s. If you haven’t been, let me paint you a picture. Walls dance with beach-themed images and colorful, funky hibiscus flowers. Elvis and Caribbean grooves make the tiki hut grass sway, and the color-changing bubbles play in their glass case on the wall next to the to-go pint fridge. Flaming (unfortunately fake) torches emerge on either side of the menu on the back wall. A menu which, to convey scale and diversity, even has a step-by-step section on how, yes how, to order. Dole whip, milkshakes and date shakes, smoothies and fruit bowls and mangonadas. Ice cream, of course, at least 24 flavors of it. Or do you fancy an affogato? Hot espresso over a scoop of ice cream, for the late-night caffeine abusers like me.
One of their main attractions is Ululani’s Gourmet Hawaiian Shaved Ice. Of 14 locations, 8 are in Hawaii and the other 6 reside in the states. A sign on the door informs the public that due to a staffing shortage, the hours for shaved ice are limited. Two employees, however, are still diligently at work tonight. I let them help the parties that entered after me but know, before I do, what they want to order. Now they’re pairs, five or six of them in just a few minutes: pairs of friends, a father and son, a mother and daughter. “Do you get a lot of big groups? Birthday parties, and stuff?” I ask, when it’s finally my turn. “Oh yeah,” one employee replies. “All the time, they’re fun.” She recalls the time that a group of Hawaiian folk came in and stayed talking for hours and hours. “It was really cool to see,” she reminisced. They have Lappert’s out there in Hawaii, too, she said, so when they come here it reminds them of home.
So this ice cream is like a bridge between landlocked Redlands and the tropical islands of Hawaii. It’s a comforting microcosm of that homeland, community, and flavor profile that can’t ever be forgotten nor replaced. It’s a way to bring people together from thousands of miles away. So too does Nicho’s create community and home for people. There’s nothing quite like a mango raspado or cucumber-lime agua fresca from Nicho’s.
Both Lappert’s and Nicho’s are spaces where familiar meets unfamiliar, where we both share and learn. We can learn about the heaven that spicy, sweet, and salty make in your mouth when you dip a slice of mango in chamoy sauce, or that a topping for tostilocos (literally “crazy chips”) Japanese-style peanuts! We can learn about the tropical lychee fruit, a small, sweet fruit with milky flesh that is common in parts of Asia, or shaved ice flavored with passionfruit and guava. As we learn new things, we can also honor the community that thrives in each space. Spanish-speakers liberated from the fear of being misunderstood or judged for not using English, or folk from Hawaii who stay outside after hours just to bask in a memory of home.
Will there be disputes, as there always are between people, entities, businesses? Probably. Is there a deep well of things we will never know about these two who are, for better or worse, stuck at the hip? Definitely. But what seems clear is that ice cream is, after all, not a battle. It’s often the opposite. It’s an open-air market dribbling with fruits and sweets and smells, a history museum and a laboratory of flavor. It’s the warmth of home and the thrill of a vacation. Most importantly, it’s the opportunity for each environment to be their own experts of flavor, to offer an unparalleled experience. We share what we’re good at and open ourselves to those who want to do the same.
