Harlem Shake pleases with its retro decor from the days of jukeboxes and car hops. The burgers are of the smashed sort, with an aggressive sear and plenty of flavor. The cheese goes underneath, and there are plenty of topping options, including bacon and fiery cherry peppers. Note other branches in Brooklyn and Long Island City.

This Upper East Side mainstay dating to 1972 is a paragon of bar food. Sure the turkey club and chef’s salad are up to par, but the burgers command the most attention, especially when they make an appearance at the pass of the semi-open kitchen. The patty arrives deeply seared from the flat top, but still pink and juicy. Rippled cottage fries are the classic accompaniment.

Founded 15 years ago in Astoria, with a newer branch in Dutch Kills, Petey’s was in the vanguard of the local burger revival. Its burgers explode with flavor, though they are neither too thin nor too thick, topped with lettuce and tomato freshness, plain American cheese, and raw onions a bit stronger than most. This is a paradigm of the American hamburger with no frills. Starting at $4. 25, the price is below average, too.

Where better to go to get the freshest ground beef imaginable than a respected meat market? And what if that meat market also cooked it into a juicy burger for you? Enter F. Ottomanelli in Woodside (unrelated to Ottomanelii’s in the Village). The double-patty cheeseburger is cooked to order and topped with fresh lettuce and tomatoes and placed on a seeded bun with Otto sauce, and there’s no better burger in Queens.

Inside the Mobil gas station, this may be the first filling station burger the city has yet seen. Available in four configurations, it’s a smash burger made with good beef and smashed a little less than most, making it tolerably juicy. And sitting at a picnic table in view of the gas pumps in a unique experience in New York burgerdom. Fries are good, too.

One of the most buzzed-about burgers of the season is sold from the ground-floor cafeteria of a Greenpoint grocery store. Jubilee Market sells a small, satisfying burger for less than it costs to ride the subway — $2.15 for one, or $2.55 with cheese. The budget burgers are influenced by New Jersey’s legendary restaurant, White Mana. Like White Mana, they have shaved onions and a compact bun. Unlike White Mana, they’re made with local beef butchered in the building and a hunk of slow-cooked garlic in the middle of the patty.

At what point can you call a burger a sandwich? This so-called hamburger club sandwich stands at the frontier. The meat and bacon, two-story, on-toasted-bread configuration characterize it as a true sandwich, but the presence of the regular burger patty and melted cheese means it’s a cheeseburger. Whatever your opinion on the subject, this thing tastes great and it’s fun to have found it in an old-fashioned diner.

This place can’t decide if it wants to be an old-fashioned lunch counter straight out of the last century, or a hamburger museum. Either way, hamburger historian George Motz might just be behind the yellow Formica counter flipping and smashing your burgers. And don’t miss the Chester, a hamburger and cheese mounted on two pieces of toast, like something from the pre-bun era.

This distinctive red frame structure sandwiched between Briarwood and Jamaica Hills serves Bangladeshi, Indian, Afghan, and American food, and everything we’ve tried has been worth ordering. The lamb burger is particularly thick and juicy — no smash burgers here — and it’s cooked to a perfect medium, still pink in the middle. The fries are good, too.

Yes, this is one of the city’s oldest restaurants and it may have been the first restaurant in town to serve a hamburger in the 1870s. But more important, the hamburger, made from wagyu — available at lunch in the dining room and all the time in the barroom — is splendid, with the bacon and a sort of cheese fondue poured over the top. The fries are also excellent.

When a burger approaches $20, without fries, it’s held to a different standard: We expect better beef, a cheese that holds its own, and maybe a spoonful of jammy, caramelized onions to tie things together. Rolo’s in Ridgewood hits all the marks with its double cheeseburger, throwing a pickled hot pepper on the side like it’s an old-school Italian sandwich shop. It’s rich and meaty, the kind of sandwich you won’t want to share but will be glad you did.

The burger at Gus’s is best when shared. The rich patty is made from a blend of pork, chuck, and dry-aged beef, then topped with raw and caramelized onions, aged cheddar, and cornichons. The burger is off-menu, and a limited number are available each night.