What Is a Tompouce?
If you’ve ever stepped into a Dutch bakery and noticed a pastry with a glossy pink top and an air of quiet confidence, you’ve met the tompouce.
A tompouce is a classic Dutch pastry made from two layers of crisp puff pastry, filled with thick vanilla cream and finished with a smooth layer of icing. It’s simple in ingredients, bold in appearance, and found just about everywhere; from neighbourhood bakeries to cafés and, most famously, HEMA.
It’s not reserved for special occasions, but it always seems to appear when something is being marked: birthdays, office treats, casual celebrations, or a coffee break that turns into something sweeter than planned. On Kingsdag, the pink icing turns bright orange, because even pastries dress up for the occasion.
This isn’t refined patisserie. It’s everyday Dutch food culture. Familiar, accessible, and slightly unapologetic.
Where You Eat It Matters
A tompouce is rarely eaten in perfect conditions. More often, it’s served on a paper plate, handed over a counter, or balanced on a small café table with a plastic fork that bends slightly under pressure.
You might be standing. You might be mid-conversation. Someone nearby will almost certainly comment on how you’re about to eat it.
At first, the tompouce looks composed. The layers line up neatly. The icing sits smooth and unbothered. There’s a brief moment where it seems possible this will all go according to plan.
It won’t.
The Moment It Starts to Fall Apart
The first cut cracks the icing. The pastry flakes. The cream pushes outward, slowly but with intent. Forks hesitate. Plates shift.
Nothing dramatic happens…. the tompouce doesn’t collapse all at once. It simply stops pretending. Cream slides where it wants to go. Pink icing ends up on fingers. Crumbs appear in places you didn’t invite them.
This is the moment Dutch people recognise instantly. The moment where eating turns into strategy.
How the Dutch Eat a Tompouce (According to the Dutch)
Over time, a collection of unofficial methods has emerged. None of them are elegant. All of them are defended passionately.
There is The Skylight Method.
The pink icing layer is removed first and eaten separately, like opening a roof before moving in. What remains, cream and bottom layer, is dealt with afterwards.
Then there’s The Tilt Method.
The tompouce is laid carefully on its side. This keeps the layers more or less together and allows the fork to reach pastry and cream in the same bite. More control. Well…slightly.
Some people prefer The Splitter.
The tompouce is cut straight through the middle, the cream redistributed evenly over both halves before eating. Order is restored. Briefly.
And finally, there is The Licker.
The cream is dealt with first, straight from the sides, before the remaining pastry layers are eaten. This method, also acknowledged by HEMA itself, raises eyebrows, but works.
Ask a group of Dutch people which method is correct and you won’t get an answer. You’ll get a discussion.
Older Than It Looks
Despite its everyday presence, the tompouce has been around for a long time. Versions of the pastry appeared in the Netherlands in the 19th century, inspired by the French mille-feuille. Over time, it became sturdier, creamier and unmistakably Dutch, less delicate, more practical.
The name is thought to come from Tom Pouce, the French name for Thumbelina, referring to its layered structure rather than its size. Whatever the exact origin, the tompouce settled comfortably into Dutch daily life, where it never really left.
Not fancy. Not fragile. Just familiar.
Why It Works
The tompouce doesn’t aim for perfection. It doesn’t reward elegance or careful planning. It fits moments that are slightly messy by nature: birthdays, quick breaks, celebrations without ceremony.
It’s a pastry that assumes you’ll adapt. That you’ll laugh a little. That you won’t mind sticky fingers.
A tompouce eaten neatly is technically possible. It’s just not the idea.