Ellipsis of baked Alaska.
I dined at Delmonico's hard by the Fifth-avenue Hotel, a few nights ago; and among the dainties which that consummate caterer favoured us with, was an entremet called an "Alaska." The "Alaska" is a baked ice. A beau mentir qui vient de loin; but this is no traveller's tale. The nucleus or core of the entremet is an ice cream. This is surrounded by an envelope of carefully whipped cream, which, just before the dainty dish is served, is popped into the oven, or is brought under the scorching influence of a red hot salamander; so that its surface is covered with a light brown crust. So you go on discussing the warm cream soufflé till you come, with somewhat painful suddenness, on the row of ice.
Preparing the dessert, Dunlap pours a shallow pool of crème anglaise into a dish and adds an Alaska. Next he pours half Bacardi 151 rum ("this one's not for drinking," he warns) and half root beer schnapps into a sauceboat. It's show time! […] We dip the spoon into the Bacardi/schnapps mixture, and heat the spoon's base with a mini torch. When the spoon goes back into the sauceboat, its contents ignite immediately. Yikes! Next, with our left hand, we pick up a long knife and place the tip firmly into the meringue-covered Alaska. Then, with our right, we pick up the flaming rum- and schnapps-filled sauceboat and pour it down the side of the knife. We gape as flaming liquid hits the dessert and encases it in flames. Oooh! Ahhh!