Dessert knows how to make an entrance

Few desserts make an entrance quite like Baked Alaska – a dome of golden-tipped meringue hiding cold ice cream atop a layer of sponge, all briefly blasted in an oven or flambéed to theatrical effect. Its drama is matched by a history that travels across continents, combining culinary innovation with political symbolism and a sense of celebration.

The story begins not with the name, but with the science. The 1800s saw significant developments in both meringue techniques and insulating properties in cooking. French chefs had long known that whipped egg whites, when baked, formed a crust that could protect more delicate fillings. Around the same time, the advent of ice houses and, later, mechanical refrigeration made ice cream a more stable feature in upper-class dining.

The actual dish emerged in the 1860s, when Charles Ranhofer, chef at the famous Delmonico’s restaurant in New York, served a flaming ice cream and meringue dessert to commemorate the US acquisition of Alaska from Russia in 1867. He dubbed it “Alaska, Florida” – a reference to the cold interior and warm exterior – though it would soon become known simply as Baked Alaska. The name stuck, and the dessert became a symbol of culinary bravado, embraced by chefs eager to showcase both technical mastery and a flair for spectacle.

Throughout the 20th century, Baked Alaska became a staple at grand hotel banquets and cruise ship dining rooms. Its showiness suited the age of table-side service and post-war abundance, and it was often reserved for special occasions. While the traditional version features vanilla ice cream, sponge cake and Swiss meringue, variations have emerged over time: some with chocolate or fruit-flavoured ice creams, others swapping sponge for brownies, nougat or Genoise, and still others adding liqueurs or compotes for added depth.

Though Baked Alaska is not a traditional Cypriot dish, its components – meringue, sponge, and cold sweets – are familiar. In recent years, some Cypriot chefs have experimented with localised versions, infusing the sponge with zivania, flavouring ice cream with rose or carob, or using citrus from village groves. The concept of juxtaposing cold and hot, soft and crisp, aligns well with Mediterranean culinary traditions that prize contrast and balance.

Ultimately, Baked Alaska is more than a dessert – it is a performance in miniature, designed to dazzle while defying logic.