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Bánh Anh Em sells about 2,000 bánh mì sandwiches a week, often selling out before the doors close for the night. It isn't too surprising there's such a fervor here, as chef Nhu Ton is a master of the craft. At her third restaurant in the city, chef Ton takes a very hands-on approach, blending a mix of ground pork, chicken liver, crispy onions and dashes of fish sauce to make an unctuous spread of pate. She also bakes trays of glossy, crackly loaves right before the doors open at 6pm (but not before the lines form; that can start as early as five). It all ladders up to a formidable formation of bánh mìs, including the go-to O.G. Bánh Mì with layers of cold cuts flecked with fat, lightly vinegared carrots and herbs that bring crunch and a crown of pork floss that melts into a sugared sweetness. But it isn't all just sandwiches here, as Bánh Anh Em excels with noodle soups and gelatinous rice sheets on silver tiered trays, carefully wrapped to hold the likes of shrimp and pork jowls. Yes, waiting is part of the game here, as reservations are not a thing. But those who wait are sure to have the sweetest reward. 

Beyond the iconic, show-stopping displays—the grizzly bear in the Hall of North American Mammals, the 94-feet long blue whale, the prehistoric Barosaurus skeleton rearing up as if to scare the adjacent Allosaurus skeleton—is an expertly curated, 150-year-old museum that fills visitors of all ages with a curiosity about the universe. Whether you’re interested in the world below our feet or the cultures of faraway lands or the stars light-years beyond our reach, your visit is bound to teach you a few things you never knew. With four floors filled to the brim with artifacts, you could spend a whole day just looking at the taxidermied animals that hail from North America, Asia, Africa, rain forests and the ocean. Or, conversely, spend a day like an anthropologist and study indigenous Americans, Asian cultures, African peoples, Pacific tribes, and, before these rich cultures existed, the evolutionary origins of humans and our near (now extinct) cousins, like neanderthals. Also don't miss the new wing called the Gilder Center, which houses a butterfly vivarium, an insectarium and a 360-degree immersive experience, in an architectural masterpiece.

When I was growing up, a trip to Katz's with my dad wasn't an occasion so different than visiting a grandparent; there was a strange, arcane way we had to observe that was clearly the product of another time. And spending the time was rewarded with a real treat, something that felt comforting and maybe a little overwhelming. Back then, there was liable to be a line, but it was never very long, so it was, without question, worth it. Today, the place hasn't changed, but the feeling has. Waiting on a line that stretches down the block is part of the experience, and at every table you'll see tourists more preoccupied with taking photos of the food than enjoying it. I can't begrudge them that–there's no place like Katz's. But the hype now affects the actual experience one has there, which is a funny thing. It doesn’t make the food any less delicious.Katz's sign reads: Katz's that's all! Because at one time it advertised itself as Katz's kosher deli, except it wasn't actually kosher and there was outcry, so they changed the sign. It's just Katz's, that's all. If you're visiting, it's probably on your list. That makes sense: if you've never eaten at Katz's, you want to. The sandwiches are huge, insanely good, and the place is–and I don't use this word lightly–iconic. Mind that the efficiency you're supposed to observe navigating NYC’s streets goes triple here: know what you want by the time it's your turn, and keep things moving. Keep your ticket. Do not lose your ticket. And...

George Motz’s smashed patties are making all the best new burger lists–and for good reason. We especially love them for a cheap weekend brunch, since a single burger, made with fried onions and gooey American cheese, rings in at just $7.25. (Although it doesn’t come with fries, which are another $4.25.) A hot ham or tuna sandwich is $7, and perhaps most importantly, a Miller High Life is $6. Grab a seat at the bustling counter to watch the burgers get smashed, crack open a beer, and enjoy a Sunday morning for less than 20 bucks.

There’s been much written about how Billy Durney’s Red Hook Tavern draws inspiration from New York institutions. The font used for the restaurant’s name could be mistaken for Minetta Tavern’s from afar, and there are two ales dedicated to McSorley’s. But once we secured a seat (if you manage to score a prime-time reservation, play the lottery), we quickly realized the experience here is its very own thing.After an affable employee leads you down the narrow dining room or to one of the 18 bar seats, your first priority is to order the Dry Aged Red Hook Tavern Burger ($24). This pub-style burger is hefty but manageable. The simple dish—a dry-aged patty cloaked in American cheese and topped with raw white onions, then sandwiched between sesame rolls—is cooked to a perfect temperature. This juicy burger is one of the best we’ve tasted in the city.It’s no surprise that the burger and the menu’s other meat options are also expertly executed. Durney showed off his expertise with proteins at Hometown Bar-B-Que, a popular destination despite its location in difficult-to-get-to Red Hook, that’s known for its ribs, brisket, sausages, pastrami and other barbecue dishes with global touches.Executive chef Allison Plumer interprets the nostalgia that Red Hook Tavern strives for with an unfussy approach that results in plates you’ll want to devour on a cold winter day. The country-ham croquettes ($10), which are filled with white cheddar and sit atop a swath of dijonnaise, can be popped...

The original East Village location was a stone-cold classic. It moved in 2006 and, despite some apprehension, we've found it hasn't missed a beat. 2nd Avenue Deli feels exactly the way a deli should: unpretentious and homey and a little cramped, with a big deli case, locals who look like they've been eating here since Moses was in short pants. You can come here for any kind of meal, whether it’s a casual nosh or a big occasion. Yeah, it’s pretty casual, but people can, will, and do celebrate milestones here. Compared to its closest Anglo-analog, the diner, it feels special. It’s pricey, yes. But unlike a diner, you're engaging a long tradition of cuisine that you'd be hard-pressed to find outside of New York City. The chopped liver is moussey and light, the pastrami is fatty without being gummy, each table still gets fixed with pickles; they come in half and full-sour for your pleasure. There's a second location further uptown on the Upper East Side. And above that one, they've got a cute little cocktail bar called 2nd Floor Bar & Essen. But that’s not what we’re talking about here and if you're trying to go for the real-deli-deal, it doesn't get much realer than this.The place is the quintessential New York deli, with pastrami, kishkas, kasha varnishkes—a grain and pasta salad. They don't toast bread; they don't serve cheese. Don't ask. Outside of that, the world’s your oyster—er, I mean, Matzoh ball.Whenever I go, I get a tongue sandwich with a lot of mustard, pickles, a...

Bark is the product of a remarkable journey: Pitmaster Ruben Santana began smoking meats during the pandemic, and a pop-up couldn’t keep pace with demand for his Dominican-inflected Texas barbecue for long. After a stint at Time Out Market, he's opened his first brick-and-mortar: a huge, spiffy new hall in Bushwick, already swarmed with curious diners. And that makes sense because–and I don’t say this lightly–Bark is quite possibly the best barbecue in New York City. The place is big, with two levels of communal tables, a mix of high and low-tops. The room is, like many other barbecue joints, soaring with an almost industrial scale. The place has an easy-to-understand, convenient layout. And there seems to be a high ratio of staff to guests, so cordial, helpful guidance or assistance is never far. The place hums with efficiency.There’s a bar, but they don’t serve liquor–only beer and wine and some soju cocktails. The selections aren’t expansive, but that’s not why you’re here, and they get the job done just fine. I would never make a claim that New York’s barbecue compares to Texas’ for the same reason that a Texan’s claims about bagels would fall on deaf ears. But Mr. Santana obviates comparison with a deft move: blending Texas barbecue with Dominican gastronomy. The two, it turns out, have a beautiful affinity. Rice and beans soak up sauce wonderfully, and maduros (plantains) offer a similar starchy sweet element as cornbread. As far as typical sides go, they’re...

For a good four years, the Unapologetic Foods team held court in the East Village (before the arrival of Adda) with Rowdy Rooster, a fast-casual Indian fried chicken destination that always knew how to ratchet up the heat. The bird quietly flew the coop earlier this year (don't worry, there's still a location in the Penn District), allowing a newcomer to roost. Chef Eric Valdez, who has been with the team since the Dhamaka days and currently runs the Filipino eatery Naks down the street, has taken up the reins, opening up perhaps the city's first-ever Filipino sandwich shop. The color wheel that was once Rowdy Rooster has been subdued, as most striking features of this pint-sized sandwich shop are a colorful wall of Filipino chips and a mural that depicts a cartoonish childhood version of Valdez with a sandwich in hand. And while the space itself is unassuming with just four metal tables and low-to-the-ground chairs, it's the menu that makes the most noise. The crowning glory goes to the Lechon Dip, a glorified pig party with sizzling, equal parts shredded and gelatinous bits of roasted pork asado that barely can be contained in the sturdy hero roll. It becomes that much richer as the sandwich comes with a ladle of savory jus that quickly goes gelatinous and jiggly if you don't eat it fast enough. But honestly, the jus still stands in all its peppery and slightly vinegared glory, regardless of the temp. Sanwits's chicken sandwich carries the torch of its fallen fried...

Barney Greengrass opened in 1908. Think about that math for a moment as you step inside and realize that probably nothing has changed in the intervening years. As iconic as the place is, it's a tad shabby. That's not to say it's dirty—it's not. But compared to some of its contemporaries, the place does show the wear of time and the stubbornness of its adherence to the "if it ain't broke" philosophy. But by the same token, there's a real and palpable charm to the room. And when you’re inside, there's a specific feel that goes beyond the superficial. "All that glitters" and all of that. If you're here and have no interest in smoked fish, you're going to be paying a whole bunch of money for eggs. That would be a real waste. Show up ready for sturgeon, sable, nova, lox, whitefish-all of that stuff that murders your breath but feeds your soul. Make no mistake: you'll get your eggs cooked perfectly, but don't get them without that smoked-fish addition. You’ll forget allll about bacon. Lox, eggs, and onions are a classic, and you can’t go wrong. But you could also go the sandwich route, sturgeon or sable on rye with lettuce, onion, tomato, and mayo. Old-timers who've earned preferential treatment rub elbows with stroller-pushing Nouveau Yorkers. It gets crowded. If you're smart, you'll send an advance party to scout a table. Or you can show up during the week, when it's easy to just sit and have a meal. It’s cash only, and they’re closed Mondays, and there are no reservations, so...

Sarge’s is generally believed to be the city’s only 24-hour Jewish delicatessen. NYPD Sergeant Abe “Sarge” Katz opened the restaurant in 1964, and the building still has the burgundy vinyl booths, Tiffany’s lamps and a wall of celebrity photos to prove it. Sarge’s offers all the classic deli sandwiches—corned beef ($15.95), pastrami ($16.95), reuben ($19.95)—plus The Monster. Billed as the city’s largest sandwich, it is indeed a towering stack of corned beef, pastrami, roast beef, turkey, salami, tomato, lettuce, cole slaw and Russian dressing on rye ($41.95). The menu is just as gargantuan as that sandwich, offering everything from shrimp salad ($17.95) to matzo ball soup ($6.95) to sliced London broil with mushroom gravy ($30.95). If you still have room, order a slice of the homemade cheesecake ($6.95) and an egg cream to wash it down ($2.95).