A large lakeside resort complex on Green Island in Lake George, New York, featuring white buildings with brown roofs, outdoor pools, landscaped grounds, and a long dock extending into the lake. The resort is surrounded by dense green forest and distant mountains under a clear sky.

Growing Up a Resort Town Kid

Here we go again, falling down the nostalgia rabbit hole.

A friend of mine posted some vacation photos on Instagram, and one of them was captioned Sagamore Hotel. I immediately dropped him a note: Is that the Sagamore on Lake George? The one on Green Island in Bolton Landing?

When he said yes, they were vacationing there, I of course responded, That’s my hometown! Not the Sagamore itself, of course, but Bolton Landing. To this day it still surprises me when anyone says they know where it is. Everyone has heard of Lake George, but not Bolton Landing.

But I’m getting off track.

The Sagamore was a big convention hotel when I was growing up. They catered to business conferences, and then came the “social season,” when the rich folks from New York City arrived to enjoy the lake. That’s how us locals thought of them. After all, we couldn’t afford to stay at The Sagamore — so obviously the people who did must be rich, right? It was just one of those unspoken small‑town truths.

A spacious hotel lobby with rustic décor, featuring a large round wooden table with decorative vases, comfortable seating areas with earth‑tone armchairs and sofas, stone tile flooring, framed photos on the wall, and a mounted deer head creating a cozy lodge‑style atmosphere.

I had a summer job working with the local photographer. Mostly it meant sitting in the lobby next to a display board of photos and taking orders, but occasionally he’d bring me along for banquet night as his assistant. My job was simple: keep the film cartridges loaded and ready to hand over fast. This was especially important when the banquet started.

All the diners would be seated, and then the kitchen doors swung open. White‑suited chefs and waiters paraded in with huge trays balanced on their shoulders. And coming up the rear was the pièce de résistance — the flaming Baked Alaska. It was always quite a spectacle.

A row of formally dressed servers carrying dome‑shaped Baked Alaska desserts with browned meringue and small blue flames on top, presenting them in a coordinated procession during a banquet. The warm lighting and flames create a dramatic, celebratory atmosphere.

I had no idea then what Baked Alaska actually was, except that it was a dessert that made a grand entrance in flames. Imagine my surprise when I eventually learned it was basically ice cream. What? Doesn’t it melt?

I’m older now and a bit more kitchen‑wise, but I still don’t know if I’m brave enough to try this retro dessert.

Are you?

A Little History Before We Get to the Recipe

Baked Alaska goes all the way back to the mid‑1800s, when chefs were experimenting with the science of heat insulation. The idea was almost comical: wrap ice cream in a thick layer of meringue, then blast it with high heat. The meringue acts like a fluffy winter coat, protecting the frozen center.

The dessert became famous at Delmonico’s Restaurant in New York City, where chef Charles Ranhofer originally A close-up slice of Baked Alaska showing layers of sponge cake, chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice cream, all covered in a thick coating of toasted meringue with golden-brown peaks. called it Alaska, Florida — cold inside, hot outside. Over time the name evolved into Baked Alaska, and restaurants began presenting it with full theatrical flair: dimmed lights, flaming rum, and waiters parading it through the dining room like royalty.

That’s the version I saw at the Sagamore — the classic banquet‑hall Baked Alaska, flaming and dramatic and absolutely unforgettable.

But the classic version is… well… a production. So here’s a simplified, home‑friendly version that gives you the magic without the stress.

🍨 Simplified Baked Alaska (Home-Friendly Version)

Ingredients

1 pound cake (store‑bought works perfectly)
1 pint ice cream (any flavor you love)
3 large egg whites
½ cup sugar
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
Pinch of salt

Instructions

Prepare the base: Cut the pound cake into a circle or square slightly larger than your ice cream dome. Place it on a parchment‑lined baking sheet.
Add the ice cream: Scoop the ice cream into a rounded mound on top of the cake. Freeze for at least 1 hour so it’s firm.
Make the meringue: Beat egg whites and salt until foamy. Gradually add sugar and vanilla. Continue beating until stiff, glossy peaks form.
Cover completely: Spread the meringue over the ice cream and cake, making sure it’s sealed with no gaps. This insulation is what keeps the ice cream from melting.
Bake quickly: Bake at 500°F for 3–5 minutes, just until the meringue is golden. (Or use a kitchen torch for even easier browning.)
Serve immediately: Slice and enjoy the magic — warm meringue outside, cold ice cream inside.

A dome-shaped Baked Alaska covered in toasted meringue with golden-brown peaks, sitting on a decorative plate with fresh strawberries blurred in the background.

Final Thoughts

So there you have it — a little Baked Alaska nostalgia. It’s one of those retro desserts that deserves a comeback. Meringue and ice cream? Yes, please.

Meanwhile Back at the countdown of the states…

Yes! New York State, not the city although I have been to New York City several times.

I have to check off New York State because that’s where I grew up. The old homestead is right in the heart of the Adirondacks.

When I was growing up the town of Bolton was a little place with only one stop light. We joked that there were more bars than churches and for a little town we had a lot of churches, Catholic, Episcopal, Methodist, Baptist.

Our school wasn’t a one room but it was a one building, kindergarten through 12. The size of my class changed a little through the years but most of the folks I graduated with had been in my class from the day I started in kindergarten. Final count of graduates…27.

I didn’t learn to ride a bike until I moved to Massachusetts as an adult. I grew up in the country and I had a horse. Why would I want to pedal up and down those hills when my horse could do the work?

We also had cows and pigs, sheep and goats and chickens as well as my horse. I learned to feed the animals, groom them and muck out stalls. In the fall we butchered some of the animals and my father, and eventually my brothers, went hunting for deer. We all loved venison. Once Lake George froze over we had lake perch to eat. Ice fishing was popular and to this day yellow perch is a favorite dish.

We went tubing on the Schroon River before tubing was popular.

We cut the tall grass in the field…haying we called it….first with teams of draft horses and then later with a tractor. We loaded the hay into wagons with pitchforks.

We didn’t sit inside watching TV. We went outside to play and roamed the fields and woods using our imaginations to avoid the “Indians” or search for “fairy rings “.

I rode the Ticonderoga and the Mini Ha Ha, cruise ships on beautiful Lake George.

I worked with the photographer for the Sagamore Hotel where I witnessed elaborate dinners and dance lessons on the portico.

Eventually I had to grow up (as much as I ever have…I have a strong streak of Peter Pan Syndrome) and headed to Albany, NY to attend college at SUNY Albany. That was at the end of the 60’s and beginning of the 70’s. The “Free Love” Movement and Hippies predominated. Then the Kent State tragedy cast a pall over the riotous college atmosphere and I headed back to the country.

My visits to New York City have been short. It isn’t my favorite place. I’ve been to stage shows on Broadway and stood in Times Square. I’ve been in Grand Central Station and some of the museums but most of the time my trips are quick hits…run in, do what I must, leave.

Heading off to the west I’ve made it to Buffalo and Niagara Falls. I’ve been there twice but it was many years ago. I’d like to go back again.

Recently I was at a travel show and met a group of travel agents pushing Lake George. I picked up the brochures and by the time I finished reading them I was ready to take my next vacation right back where I grew up.

Glens Falls hosts a Balloon Festival every Fall. I went in 2012.

Missed it this year but am planning for 2014. I haven’t even touched on all there is to do. New York is a big state. There’s a wine section in the Finger Lakes Region and caves to explore.