“You know the worst thing about gentrification?” my friend Dave asked me recently.

“Um, that my rent is going up?” I ventured.

“Nope,” he said. “It’s that my corner bodega’s rent went up, and they had to go out of business. So now I can’t get one of those cheap little ice-cream sandwiches.”

He had a point. The standard bodega ice-cream sandwich, buried underneath the Haagen-Dazs bars and FrozFruit pops in the freezer case near the cash register, is still only a quarter – a quarter! That’s less than half the price of a candy bar, which makes it arguably the best bargain in New York. Okay, so the chocolate wafers always stick to your fingers, but that’s part of the ritualistic fun, just like licking away the ice cream on the sides before chewing the wafers, or peeling off the top wafer to expose the ice cream, or licking the gooey paper wrapper – or whatever your personalized eating method happens to be.

Culinary researcher Lynn Olver, editor of the wonderful Food Timeline Web site (www.foodtimeline.org), explained to me in an e-mail that the road to the bodega ice-cream sandwich began with Victorian-era desserts, as more and more chefs gained access to freezer technology. “Many of these chefs specialized in cream-filled Victoria sandwich cakes,” Ms. Olver wrote. “Freeze a sandwich cake and what do you get?”

But the ice-cream sandwich as we know it today was introduced as street food for the hoi polloi, not a fancy treat for the upper crust. According to “The Encyclopedia of American Food & Drink” by John F. Mariani, “slabs of ice cream sandwiched between cakelike cookies” were first sold by New York street vendors in the late 1890s.The ensuing century has given rise to a few iconic versions of the ice-cream sandwich, most notably the It’s It bar (invented in 1928, and quite popular west of the Rockies), the Carvel Flying Saucer (the first round ice-cream sandwich, introduced in 1951), and the Chipwich (the first gourmet version, launched in 1981). But the cheap bodega rendition – populist heir to the spirit of the sandwich’s original street-cart incarnation – endures.

The Chipwich, with its high-butterfat ice cream and dense chocolate chip cookies, wasn’t just a premium product – it was premium-priced too, originally selling for a then-extravagant $1 (marketing experts initially warned company founder Richard E. LaMotta that nobody would pay that much for an ice-cream snack). Think of it as the beginning of the ice-cream sandwich’s gentrification.

But the Chipwich – to say nothing of bodega fare – looks positively downmarket compared to some of the ice cream sandwiches currently being proffered in restaurants around the city. Here’s a quick rundown.

Signature Cafe (inside Lord & Taylor, 424 Fifth Ave., 212-391-3344 ext. 3015; ice-cream sandwich costs $6): The most satisfying ice-cream sandwiches in town are available in this small, nondescript space tucked away on the sixth floor of Lord & Taylor. The wonderfully creamy ice cream sits between two slabs of pound cake, which are lightly buttered, briefly pressed in a panini grill, and then diagonally sliced in half, so the presentation looks like a true sandwich. There’s a rotating series of flavor combinations – on one recent visit, it was Neapolitan-style vanilla, and strawberry ice cream, served with fresh strawberries, strawberry preserves, and a dollop of sensationally fresh whipped cream. Worth every penny.

The Harrison (355 Greenwich St., 212-274-9310; $8): After a long, hot day, you could do a lot worse than to sit at the bar of this TriBeCa restaurant and enjoy the fine sandwich dessert. The outer wafers are thin, dense slices of Valhrona chocolate cake, so they sort of evoke the classic bodega sandwich (but they taste a lot better and won’t stick to your fingers), while the ice cream is vanilla studded with frozen cherries. A scattering of warm sour cherries and a drizzle of port-wine reduction complete the presentation. The ice cream is actually a bit too cold and solid when it arrives on your plate, so try to muster enough patience to let it sit for a few minutes before digging in. The Harrison is getting a new pastry chef, so this sandwich’s days could be numbered – get it while you can.

‘Wichcraft (49 E. 19th St., 212-780-0577; $3): It figures that a shop devoted to sandwiches would include an ice-cream sandwich on its roster. The selection changes daily; one recent afternoon it was chocolate ice cream in between sugar-encrusted peanut butter cookies – sort of a Reese’s concept. Even more so than at the Harrison, this sandwich is served too cold, so let it soften up a bit before eating.

Of course, there’s another ice-cream sandwich option: Make your own. If you want to simulate the classic chocolate wafers, you can make a big, thin sheet cookie and cut it up (see accompanying recipe). Or you can take a shortcut by using commercially available cookies. Keep in mind that the crispier the cookie, the more likely it’ll be to crumble when you’re assembling or eating the sandwich – Pepperidge Farm’s Soft Baked line works well. You can also try heavy, dense cakes, like the pound cake used at the American Cafe.

Whatever kind of sandwich “bread” you use, pair it with really good ice cream – the creamier the better. Nuts, chunks, and add-ins can be problematic when cutting the ice cream into sandwich-size portions, so stick with straightforward flavors like vanilla, coffee, and so on.

Back when ice-cream sandwiches were invariably square, vendors used specialized scoops that created square slabs of ice cream. Unless you’ve got one of those antiques (I don’t), it’s much easier to make a round sandwich.

For the wafers, this means using a biscuit cutter to create individual sandwich rounds from the sheet cookie; for the interior, it means buying your ice cream in round pint containers and then using a serrated bread knife to saw them – cardboard container and all – into discs, which you can then trim down to size with your biscuit cutter. It’s surprisingly easy and quite satisfying, in a home-workshop sort of way.

If you like, roll the edge of the your sandwich in mini-chocolate chips, just like a Chipwich. Or you can try rolling it in other dry ingredients, like chopped nuts, sprinkles, crushed Oreos, colored sugar, nonpareils, or dragees. And if you like a little bitter with your sweet, as I do, try using freshly ground coffee or instant espresso powder.

All of which is admittedly a far cry from the 25-cent bodega confection. But in a rapidly gentrifying city, it pays to keep your options open.

Ice-Cream Sandwich
This recipe makes 8 sandwiches. If that’s more than you want, they keep nicely in the freezer.

FOR THE OUTSIDE

16 store-bought cookies, about 3 inches across

OR

1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup Dutch-processed cocoa powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon baking soda
2 eggs
2/3 cup sugar
1/4 cup chocolate syrup
1 stick butter melted

FOR THE INSIDE

2 round pint containers premium ice cream
1/4 cup mini chocolate chips, chopped nuts, sprinkles, colored sugar nonpareils, dragees, crumbled cookies, freshly ground coffee, or other dry toppings, if you like

1 If using store-bought cookies, proceed directly to step 5; if making your own chocolate wafers, preheat oven to 350 degrees. Use cooking spray to coat a 17 1/2-by-12-inch rimmed baking pan, and then line pan with parchment paper.

2 Sift flour, cocoa, salt, and baking soda into a medium bowl. Meanwhile, in a separate bowl, beat eggs, sugar, and chocolate syrup until light brown. Whisk in melted butter. Pour dry ingredients into wet and stir with a rubber spatula until fully incorporated.

3 Pour batter onto prepared baking sheet and use a spatula to smooth out into an even layer. Bake until firm, 10 to 12 minutes. Let pan cool for 5 minutes.

4 Run a knife around rim of baking sheet to loosen the cookie. Invert pan onto a cutting board, carefully peel off the parchment paper, and let cool for an additional 30 minutes. Use a 3-inch biscuit cutter to create 16 rounds from the sheet cookie. Set rounds aside and reserve excess cookie scraps for later use (or just nibble on them).

5 Turn a pint container of ice cream on its side and use a serrated bread knife to slice away the container’s base. Then cut the pint into four 3 /4-inch-thick discs, dipping the knife into warm water before making each cut. Discard lid, and peel away and discard cardboard container. Repeat with second pint. Use 3-inch biscuit cutter to cut ice cream into cookie sized pucks. Assemble sandwiches. If desired, place chips, nuts, or other dry toppings in a small dish and roll each sandwich in them, edge-wise. Serve immediately.