Self-indulgent, showy and decidedly sweet, the banana split celebrated its 100th birthday recently; even after a century, the classic triple sundae still makes an extravagant statement. A hallmark of American gastronomy, it declares a brash confidence that says, “Yes, I am going to eat the whole thing.”

Fran’s (200 Victoria St., 416-304-0085) old-fashioned banana split presents the hedonistic archetype: a single bisected banana supporting three scoops of ice cream—chocolate, vanilla and strawberry—as well as butterscotch, chocolate and strawberry sauces, a thick cowl of whipped cream and (of course) maraschino cherries on top. It’s a boat that can best even the stoutest sweet tooth, but it’s also a genius of flavour-matching: each component complements the others, and even as the dizzy construction is reduced to a melting mess of intermingled sauce, ice cream and banana, the taste is still spectacular.

Steve Song, the pastry chef at Ultra Supper Club (314 Queen St. W., 416-263-0330), is known for his playful reinventions of such retro desserts as Creamsicles and Ding Dongs. But Song’s take on the banana split is his pièce de résistance. His version features bananas rolled in chocolate and vanilla streusel and blitzed almond nougatine, a tart shell filled with milk chocolate pastry cream and a scoop of creamy vanilla doused in chocolate and butterscotch sauces. But it’s not a banana split until it’s sky-high, so Song stacks it with chocolate and vanilla tuiles, sugar sticks (like long, thin rock candy) and crunchy plantain chips. Sophisticated, yes, but like a bona fide banana split, it’s every bit the peacock. “Once we send one out, everybody wants one,” Song says. “We almost always sell out.”