New York foods: bagels, pizza and menu portions

The city's edible flag: a wide, foldable slice of thin-crust pizza, slightly charred and gloriously greasy, with a crackly bottom and stretchy mozzarella. Grab one at a counter, fold it lengthwise, and eat it standing up like a true New Yorker.

Beef brisket cured in salt and spices, smoked, then steamed until it falls apart, piled mountain-high between two slices of rye with a smear of mustard. Introduced in 1888, it's the soul of the Lower East Side deli — order it at Katz's and watch it carved by hand.

A hand-rolled bagel, boiled then baked to a chewy-crisp shell, split and loaded with cream cheese, silky cured salmon, capers, red onion and tomato. The classic New York breakfast ritual, perfected over a century at appetizing shops like Russ & Daughters.

Dense, tall and impossibly creamy, this cream-cheese-rich cake sits on a buttery graham crust and finishes with a faint tang. No fruit needed — a plain slice, smooth as silk and proudly heavy, is the New York standard set by Junior's in Brooklyn.

The midnight fuel of the five boroughs: griddled spiced chicken (or gyro lamb) over yellow rice, draped in creamy white sauce and a daring squirt of red hot sauce, with shredded lettuce and pita. A street-cart legend, popularized by The Halal Guys on 53rd and 6th.

The burger that took over the city: a thin beef patty smashed hard onto a hot griddle for lacy, crispy edges, double-stacked with American cheese, pickles and tangy sauce on a toasted potato bun. Juicy, craggy and built for the line out the door.

A snappy all-beef frank from a steaming sidewalk cart, tucked in a soft bun and crowned with tangy sauerkraut and sweet onion sauce or a stripe of yellow mustard. Cheap, fast and quintessentially New York, sold on nearly every busy corner.

The cut the city named: a thick, well-marbled strip seared in a blistering broiler until crusted outside and rosy within, served sizzling with little more than salt. The centerpiece of the classic steakhouse, riding high on the city's steakhouse revival.

A six-ounce monument to chocolate chip cookies: crackly and caramelized outside, deliberately underbaked and gooey within, packed with walnuts and molten chocolate. Born on the Upper West Side, it draws lines and dominates feeds across the city.

Riding Koreatown's fine-dining surge, chicken double-fried until the skin shatters then glazed in sweet-spicy gochujang or left golden and plain. Crackly, sticky and addictive, it's the late-night star of Manhattan's 32nd Street and beyond.