10 New York Dishes Only Kids From The ’80s Would Still Defend
Growing up in New York during the ’80s meant experiencing a food scene that was both evolving and iconic.
I still remember racing to grab my favorite treats after school, the smells and tastes permanently etched in my memory.
These dishes might seem ordinary or even outdated to today’s food influencers, but for us ’80s kids, they represent comfort, nostalgia, and flavors worth fighting for to this day.
1. The Classic Bagel With Lox And Schmear
Nothing beats the memory of Sunday mornings at my grandpa’s favorite deli, watching the counter guy hand-slice lox paper-thin. The perfect ratio was crucial – not too much cream cheese (we called it “schmear”), just enough salmon, with a sprinkle of capers and red onion.
Manhattan delis had their own personalities back then. Some slathered on the cream cheese thick enough to choke you, while others were stingy enough to make you wonder why you bothered.
The bagels themselves were dense, chewy works of art – nothing like today’s puffy bread circles. We’d argue about which neighborhood had the best water for bagel-making, a debate I still participate in whenever anyone suggests Einstein Bros is “just as good.”
2. The Perfect New York Pizza Slice
My allowance always went toward those massive triangles of thin-crust heaven, folded in half and devoured while standing. The grease would run down my arm as I tried to eat it before catching the subway home from school.
Ray’s, Famous Ray’s, Original Ray’s – we knew which ones were legit and which were tourist traps. The real deal had that perfect balance: slightly sweet sauce, just enough cheese to stretch but not overwhelm, and a crust that somehow managed to be both crispy and foldable.
Pre-chain-restaurant invasion, each neighborhood pizzeria had its own character. The surly guys behind the counter barely acknowledged you, but they remembered your order. That authentic experience is what today’s artisanal wood-fired places can never replicate, no matter how imported their ingredients are.
3. Upstate Chicken Riggies
Whenever we visited relatives in Utica, this spicy pasta dish was non-negotiable dinner fare. Rigatoni swimming in a spicy tomato cream sauce with chunks of chicken, peppers, and onions – I’d secretly wipe the bowl clean with bread when adults weren’t looking.
My aunt Sophia guarded her recipe fiercely. She’d shoo us kids from the kitchen while making it, claiming we’d “mess with the magic.” The smell of those peppers sautéing would fill the house for hours.
Every family claimed their version was the authentic one. Some used hot cherry peppers, others sweet bells with red pepper flakes. The debate would get heated at community potlucks, with side-eyes thrown at anyone who dared modify the “correct” recipe. Yet somehow, even the “wrong” versions tasted like home.
4. Bodega Chopped Cheese Sandwich
Before it became Instagram-famous, the chopped cheese was our secret weapon against hunger. Ground beef chopped on the grill with onions, melted American cheese, lettuce, tomato, and a splash of hot sauce, all stuffed into a hero roll – pure magic at 2 AM.
My friend Carlos introduced me to this masterpiece after basketball practice one day. We’d pool our quarters together and split one while sitting on his stoop in Washington Heights.
Each bodega had its own variation – some added ketchup, others mayo, and the really special ones had a secret spice blend they’d never reveal. What made it magical wasn’t fancy ingredients but the way the sandwich soaked up the flavors of the flat-top grill that had been seasoned by decades of late-night cooking.
5. Mom’s Weeknight Pesto Pasta
Long before pesto became commonplace, my mom discovered it in a magazine and it became her go-to “fancy” dinner. She’d blend basil from our window box with pine nuts, garlic, and whatever hard cheese was on sale that week.
The food processor would whir loudly while I did homework at the kitchen table. That sound meant dinner would be ready soon, and I could stop pretending to understand algebra.
Sometimes she’d add chunks of chicken or whatever vegetables needed using up. On special nights, she’d splurge on real Parmesan instead of the green canister stuff. My friends thought it was weird and green – “Why is your spaghetti not red?” they’d ask when sleeping over – but I felt sophisticated and European, twirling my fork with newfound international flair.
6. The Classic Spicy Tuna Roll
My first sushi experience wasn’t at some fancy omakase counter – it was a spicy tuna roll from a hole-in-the-wall joint that somehow survived between a laundromat and a video rental store. The owner, Mr. Tanaka, would nod approvingly as my palate graduated from California rolls to spicier options.
Sushi wasn’t mainstream yet. My classmates thought I was eating raw fish as a dare rather than a meal. The spicy mayo-covered chunks of tuna, cucumber crunch, and perfectly vinegared rice became my Friday reward for surviving another week of middle school.
Looking back, it probably wasn’t the highest quality fish, but it was prepared with care. Mr. Tanaka’s hands moved with hypnotic precision, each roll identical to the last. That consistency and ritual is something I still seek out, even as sushi restaurants now compete with increasingly elaborate specialty rolls.
7. Rochester’s Infamous Garbage Plate
Visiting my cousin in Rochester meant one thing: late-night Garbage Plates. This glorious mess of home fries, macaroni salad, hamburger patties (or hot dogs), and meat sauce topped with mustard and onions was the ultimate teenage indulgence.
We’d pile into his beat-up Chevy after catching a movie, five of us pooling crumpled dollars for this feast. The plate came in a styrofoam container that would bend under the weight of all that food.
The combination sounds disgusting to uninitiated ears, but the flavors somehow work in perfect harmony. Each bite contains different textures and tastes that shouldn’t make sense together but absolutely do. My adult stomach can no longer handle this late-night wonder, but my taste buds still crave that unique meat sauce whenever I’m feeling nostalgic.
8. Bodega Rice-Bean-Cheese Tostada
Corner bodegas saved my life during broke college days with their magical tostadas. Crispy corn tortillas loaded with refried beans, yellow rice, melted cheese, and hot sauce made a meal that cost less than a subway token but kept me full through marathon study sessions.
My go-to spot was run by a Dominican family who knew me by name. The grandmother would always add an extra dollop of sour cream with a wink that said, “You’re too skinny, eat more.”
These weren’t authentic Mexican tostadas – they were distinctly New York bodega creations with whatever ingredients were on hand. Sometimes there’d be shredded lettuce, sometimes not. The cheese might be American one day and a mysterious white cheese the next. This beautiful inconsistency taught me that food rules were made to be broken, especially when you’re creating something delicious.
9. After-School Manwich Sloppy Joes
Bursting through the door after school to the sweet-tangy aroma of Manwich simmering on the stove meant comfort was minutes away. My babysitter Rosa would brown the meat with extra onions (“for flavor”) before adding that iconic canned sauce.
The sandwich itself was an engineering challenge. The cheap white buns would start disintegrating the moment the meat mixture touched them, creating a race against time to finish before it completely fell apart. My technique involved creating a lettuce barrier, though it rarely worked.
There was nothing gourmet about these sloppy joes, and that was precisely their charm. They represented a time before food became a status symbol, when convenience and taste were enough. I’ve tried making “elevated” versions with artisanal ingredients, but they never capture that simple after-school magic.
10. The Legendary Black And White Cookie
These cake-like cookies with chocolate and vanilla frosting were the ultimate reward. After piano lessons, Mom would let me pick one from the glass case at Rothman’s Bakery, where they sat like edible half-moons next to the rugelach and rainbow cookies.
The debate over eating strategy was serious business among my friends. Some started with vanilla, others with chocolate. The true connoisseurs (like me) alternated sides to maintain the perfect balance of flavors throughout the experience.
Each neighborhood bakery had their own version – some cakey and soft, others with a firmer cookie base. The frosting could be fondant-like or more of a glaze. Finding your favorite was a delicious journey through New York’s boroughs, and I’d fight anyone who claims those plastic-wrapped versions in modern convenience stores are even remotely the same thing.