Located on a side street in Brighton Beach, this small bright spot features Korean-Uzbek fare that sometimes skews toward the strange, but even then remains oddly familiar. Examples are mash-hurdy, an omelet wrapped around a mayo-slathered minute steak; and a version of chicken tabaka that reads as fried chicken swamped in an improved version of ketchup.

This ancient Chelsea Latin lunch counter sports a menu that rotates by day of the week, offering pig-centric dishes as unctuous and old-fashioned as you might desire, and cut-rate espresso, too. Sit on a swiveling stool at the long formica counter for maximum enjoyment.

Long ago it was an Italian bakery, then it turned into a Mexican bakery. Finally, a few tables were thrown down and a massive menu of southern Mexican peasant fare was added: enchiladas drenched in chile-based sauces, masa antojitos in multiple permutations, plus some Tex-Mex stuff thrown in for good measure, including a perfect versionof one of New York’s most elusive dishes, breakfast tacos.

Can a strictly vegetarian southern Indian restaurant qualify as a greasy spoon? Step inside this long-running establishment – hard by a picturesque Hindu temple festooned with bas reliefs of the elephant-headed Ganesha – and your answer will be an emphatic “Yes!”

Offering Nepalese, Tibetan, and even some Bhutanese fare in a greasy spoon setting, this compact spot is named for the national flower of Nepal: the red, red rhododendron.

This Pakistani cabbie hang handily fulfills all the imperatives of a greasy spoon -- quick in and out, food ladled from a steam table and all the better for it, lots of seating jammed into a small area, and a certain shabbiness – and don’t forget cheap as hell. Upstairs room preferred.

A tiny walk-up space in what is sometimes known as the Merchandising District – surrounded by all sorts of wholesale establishments selling cut-rate watches, crappy umbrellas, and plastic jewelry – offers a menu that combines Korean and Mexican fare. All have an engagingly thrown-together quality. And the view out the smeary window is sublime. But was it ever really a bakery?

One of the first Japanese restaurants in the East Village’s Little Tokyo, this modest and now-shabby space has been a defacto neighborhood diner for going on 30 years. Believe it or not, the sushi isn’t awful, and their katsudon qualifies as some of the city’s greatest comfort food.

What is the world’s best type of grease? Lard, of course. And this Tremont Puerto Rican greasy spoon specializes in pork in all its myriad variations, from ears and tails to garlic-rubbed roast shoulder to crumbly blood sausage, at bargain prices.