Ring in the New Year with a coupe...of ice cream, meringue and berries
Some like champagne, I prefer a fancy ice cream sundae! - and a story about skiing, praying and eating sugar with my grandfather...

A simple and absolutely chic idea for a New Year’s Eve dessert…
I’m writing this fast while everyone is asleep because I’ve promised to stay off my computer until the New Year…. I do have a bunch of ideas I want to share (the linguine with clams I made yesterday), and I’m getting excited for 2025. I’m planning on leaning into joy and comfort this coming year and taking care of myself and others. Care is the real luxury, something money can’t really buy. Care makes us feel good, giving and receiving.
When I was a tween, I was lucky—no, privileged, okay, spoiled enough—to go on a ski trip to Europe with my parents, my younger brother Christopher (3 years my junior), and my grandfather. My grandfather was a devout Catholic who dragged us to Mass every Sunday, no matter where we were, and conducted nerve-wracking pop quizzes where we’d have to recite the Lord’s Prayer or say our Hail Marys. Spoiler: I was terrible at these. My mom was a lapsed Catholic, and my dad, raised in the Church of England, had decided that the only God worth worshiping could be found hiking in Muir Woods or gazing at a particularly stunning sunset.
Needless to say, I was often on pins and needles, knowing any moment my grandfather could demand three Hail Marys (delivered on my knees, no less) or ask me what time our local mass services were (I had no clue.) But the saving grace (if you’ll pardon the pun) was his insatiable sweet tooth. Whether skiing or strolling town, he would constantly insist we stop for hot chocolate—the thick, creamy European kind that ruins all other hot chocolates for you forever. He had a true weakness for whipped cream, so the hot chocolate came piled high with billowy peaks. This was long before the days of canned whipped cream, which my grandfather would’ve surely deemed a sin.
I navigated my fear of purgatory and eternal damnation (for sins I couldn’t identify but must be horrible, given the amount of praying I was expected to do) with the sweet, sweet knowledge that chocolatey redemption was near. By day, there was plenty of hot chocolate, and by night, something even better.
In Switzerland, where we were skiing, I discovered a glorious thing called a “coupe.” Essentially, an ice cream sundae, but fancier. There were all kinds of coupes: some with fresh fruit and berries, others with nuts, chocolate sauces, or liquors. Some with meringues—the other sugary love my grandfather and I shared. The possibilities were endless, but the common denominator was decadence. These weren’t your average “scoop in a bowl” situations—they were extravagant, artfully arranged in tall, stemmed glasses, and unapologetically indulgent.
My favorite coupe was the Coupe Dänemark (also known as a Coupe Dame Blanche): vanilla ice cream, warm chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and a crispy wafer. A close second was the Coupe Nesselrode—vanilla ice cream, crushed meringue, and whipped cream, often topped with candied chestnuts. After a few nights of ordering these after dinner (because ordering dessert was just as essential as ordering dinner when dining with my grandfather), we decided to get creative. We’d ask for the Coupe Dänemark with pieces of crushed meringue added in. A truly perfect dessert.
So, here’s my proposition: either go for individual, composed coupes for New Year’s Eve or set up a build-your-own coupe bar. A composed coupe is a pre-assembled dessert where every element is thoughtfully chosen and arranged. Each layer—be it ice cream, fruit, whipped cream, or toppings—is intentionally selected and layered to create a visually stunning and flavor-balanced treat. For a recent holiday party, I served this composed coupe: Strauss vanilla bean ice cream with crushed meringue (recipe below, or you can buy ready-made meringues at Trader Joe's or other grocery stores), whipped cream, strawberries, blackberries, sliced persimmon, white chocolate pearls, and candied citrus zest or ginger (you can buy these at a fancy food store or order them online - tap the underlined links).
You can also make one BIG composed coupe in a trifle dish (or salad bowl) and have everyone scoop out their own serving (or you can serve everyone at the table.) Sort of like a pavlova, but you don’t have to bake a gigantic meringue. This one is meringues (some crushed, some whole), vanilla ice cream, whipped cream and mixed berries:
Whichever route you go, here are some classic examples of traditional coupes to get you started. Ideally, they should be served in pretty, stemmed coupe glasses, but a wine glass or even a bowl will work:
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Everything You Want to Eat to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.