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When was the last time you ate a banana split? I asked myself this question and drew a blank. I remember loving the indulgent triple-scoop sundae, and I was certain that I’d had one, but with no specific memory of when or why. Was this a false memory, shaped by a childhood full of banana split scratch-and-sniff stickers and images of wide-eyed children in books ogling them through shop windows?
It’d make sense. My love for the banana split is primarily visual. The dessert, traditionally served in a glass boat, has so many textures, colors, and shapes that looking at it gives me the same satisfaction I feel when looking at a bowl of Trix Cereal or a freckled Tutti-Fruitti Jelly Belly. But the banana split is more enigmatic. It’s not a casual snack. There is no perfect occasion for such a dessert—it’s not traditionally served on birthdays, or any holiday, for that matter. And you can’t eat it on the go.
With a craving, I began researching where to get the archetypal American dessert in Seattle—it was supposedly invented in Pennsylvania in 1904—but the only insight I found was a three-year-old Reddit post filled with more questions than answers and a 15-year-old Slog post (written by our own snack critic, Megan Seling), which cites establishments that are long gone. So, I did the lord’s work: I searched through every single diner, ice cream shop, and soda fountain menu in Seattle and Burien and mapped out a quest to acquire the old-fashioned sundae of my childhood dreams.
The banana split I yearn for is something close to the original early-20th-century invention: three types of ice cream (chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry), three sauces (fudge, strawberry sauce, and—and this is important!—crushed pineapple), whipped cream, and cherries, all composed between two lengthwise slices of a freshly peeled banana. After much online investigation, I was able to taste-test five banana splits over the course of three days (that’s a total of 15 scoops of ice cream) and send the receipts to my employer to make them pay for it.
While I had expected a stomachache, I did not anticipate the psychological impact of asking for such an indulgent, inconvenient, impractical, and childish treat back-to-back in ice cream shops across the region. Each time I watched the server scramble around the kitchen for the menagerie of elements, I felt ashamed that I wasn’t ordering a simple ice cream cone.
But I did it for you, Seattle.
The Great American Diner & Bar
$7.99
I walked into the West Seattle Junction’s American Diner and was seated by a kind waitress who handed me a menu. “I actually already know what I want—can I just get the banana split?” I asked, sliding the menu back across the table. “Sure, I’ll go make that for you right now,” the waitress said with a tinge of panic in her eyes. Less than 10 minutes later, she returned with a large dinner plate topped with three scoops of ice cream (chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry) between two broken banana halves, and it was topped with whipped cream, chocolate sauce, almonds, and rainbow sprinkles. “Does that look okay?” she asked with uncertainty. I felt the need to validate that she did a great job. “Does anyone ever order this?” I asked. She threw her head back and laughed. “No, not while I’ve worked here!” she said, relieved. “I was nervous to make it, but it was actually very fun to decorate.”
Baskin-Robbins
$8.49
The next day, I tracked down my nearest Baskin-Robbins. I was not expecting much from the strip mall chain in the Burien Safeway parking lot, but they delivered. As I walked in, I was relieved to see that they actually had a banana split on the TV screen menu with a glorious photo of the cherry-topped treat. Although once I told the teenager behind the counter what I wanted, I could feel her annoyance. She peeled and sliced a fresh banana, which I saw hanging on a special rack in the kitchen. She scooped the three flavors of ice cream—chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla—then doused them in three different sauces: marshmallow, hot fudge, and a jammy strawberry syrup. Then, she topped each scoop with a crown of whipped cream and three maraschino cherry halves. It was presented to me in a special plastic dish with a lid that was specifically designed for banana splits.
Dairy Queen
$6.99
In true fast-food fashion, Dairy Queen was the smoothest procurement and most accurate to the original recipe. This could be in part because I ordered it through the drive-through, so any confusion or annoyance (which, to be clear, I completely understand) would have been out of my view. The beautiful dessert, served in another special container (which was shaped like the DQ logo), was handed to me within seconds of placing the order. The quality was higher than you’d expect from a fast food chain—three twirls of vanilla soft serve between a surprisingly fresh banana, topped with crushed pineapple, strawberry sauce (with actual strawberry chunks!), chocolate syrup, and thin whipped dairy topping. Because Dairy Queen’s soft serve famously contains very little butterfat, it can’t legally be called “ice cream.” The dessert was by far the lightest and most refreshing of those I tried.
Ben & Jerrys
$10.99
The Ben & Jerry’s banana split was a lot. The split banana held three scoops of ice cream of my choice (strawberry, chocolate fudge brownie, and Cherry Garcia) and was smothered in hot fudge, caramel sauce, and real whipped cream. Before it was complete, the server told me to choose two toppings. I panicked and chose gummy bears and rainbow sprinkles for the visual appeal. This proved to be too much, especially as it was my third banana split of the day. The server seemed especially chipper and remarked, “I love making banana splits!” I have a feeling she wouldn’t have said this if the shop were not empty.
Lil’ Tiger Ice Cream
$11.25
On day three of the mission, I was mentally and physically burnt out on this dessert, so the fact that I enjoyed Lil’ Tiger’s banana split should say a lot. I was greeted with a sandwich board sign advertising banana splits, which felt like open arms outstretched to welcome me. The server didn’t blink an eye when I ordered, and asked me what flavors and toppings I’d like. I went with the classic ice cream flavors with hot fudge, strawberry syrup, whipped cream, and sprinkles, forgetting to add nuts. Lil’ Tiger’s homemade ice cream was decadent, soft, and flavorful. I found myself digging into the rich vanilla bean scoop more than any other, which is out of the norm for me.
Solidifying my theory that the banana split is the most arduous dessert, I asked Pike Place’s Shug’s Soda Fountain over the phone if they still served the tantalizing “Banana Brûlée” split. They told me that it goes on and off the menu, depending on how busy they are. “Once people see it,” they told me, “they all want it, and it takes a while to make, and it slows the line down significantly.” This is understandable, considering how delicious it sounds. Per their Instagram, the treat consists of “creamy vanilla ice cream, topped with warm caramel sauce, crunchy pecans, brûléed bananas, whipped cream, and a Toschi cherry on top.” I decided not to risk it.
“So, you feel bad about ordering it, even though it’s being offered on the menu?” my analyst asked me, at a regular appointment in the midst of my banana split marathon. I expressed my guilt for taking on this seemingly meaningless project and inconveniencing the teenage server at Baskin-Robbins, who looked increasingly stressed as a line formed behind me. I knew it wasn’t rational, but at the same time, anyone who’s worked a service job knows the lack of self-awareness that customers can have. The more banana splits I ordered, the more I became convinced that they are the espresso martini of the ice cream world. But that doesn’t mean that you should avoid abundance completely at the risk of inconveniencing others.
So if you’re gonna get one, you should get a good one. While I am hesitant to award a mega chain as the winner of this experiment, Dairy Queen has mastered the art of the banana split. They’re the only ones to offer a sundae that has traditional crushed pineapple. That said, Baskin-Robbins was the only sundae with three ice cream flavors and three sauces. As far as local institutions, Lil’ Tiger leads with the yummiest, most quality ice cream. So, this month, while the weather is still nice, order yourself a banana split. But be mindful of your surroundings, be grateful to your servers, and tip well.
