“You’re writing about hot dogs?” my friend Bill said. “In October?”

That’s a typical New York reaction. New Yorkers like to think of their city as a serious hot dog town, but it’s not. True, the hot dog was invented here — well, at least according to one story — but we don’t take our franks very seriously. Almost everyplace else in America treats hot dogs as year-’round food, sit-down food, with full-fledged hot dog restaurants — or doggeries, as I call them. Only in New York are hot dogs relegated to the status of street food. Our two most famous doggeries — Gray’s Papaya and the flagship Nathan’s at Coney Island — don’t even have chairs, reinforcing the sadly misguided notion that a hot dog is a snack to be eaten on the run, not a meal to be savored.

The rest of America is brimming with distinct hot dog preparation styles: slaw dogs in Georgia; “dragged through the garden” in Chicago; Texas hots (which have nothing to do with Texas) in western New York state; Michigans (which have nothing to do with Michigan) in Plattsburgh, N.Y.; New York System hot wieners (which have nothing to do with New York) in Rhode Island; deep-fried dogs in New Jersey; fingerling chili dogs in Cincinnati; and on and on. By contrast, what’s the hallmark of a New York frank? The cloudy dishwater in which it sits until someone walks up and says, “Gimme one, with mustard.”

But that may now be changing. Several new Manhattan doggeries — complete with chairs! — have opened recently, and several other restaurants are serving dogs of distinction. Sensing an opportunity to help elevate the frankfurter’s New York status from seasonal outdoor snack to year-’round meal, I recently embarked on a quest to find the city’s best sit-down hot dogs.

First, a few ground rules: I gave preference to all-beef dogs with a outer casing or skin, since that should be New York’s rightful claim to hot dog fame. And I usually limited my condiments to mustard and diced onions — no sauerkraut, no chili, no wacky salsas — since a hot dog should be able to stand on its own before functioning as a topping delivery device.

Here, then, in alphabetical order, are the venues I visited:

Brooklyn Diner USA (212 W.57th St.,212-977-1957). As befits an eatery that’s essentially one big gimmick, the hot dog here is big and gimmicky. It’s called the “15-Bite Hot Dog” but 15-megabyte might be more appropriate, or maybe Frank-enstein — the 12-ounce all-beef monster is 15 inches long and five inches in girth (I measured).

But here’s the thing: It’s good. Like, really good. The outer casing has just the right degree of snap, the interior is spectacularly juicy, and the “bun” (more like a floppy piece of bread wrapped around the massive frank) is nicely toasted. Just wrestling it up to your mouth is an effort, and there’s no way you’ll finish it by yourself, but this is still a legitimate hot dog, and a very good one at that. And since most real New Yorkers wouldn’t be caught dead at this tourist trap, you don’t have to worry about being seen by anyone you know as you gorge on the colossal wiener.

One note: Brooklyn Diner also serves pigs in a blanket as an appetizer, made from slices of the giant frank. Although the smaller serving size might make the appetizer more appealing for a solo customer, stick with the full dog. The piggies’ pastry blanket is too greasy, and full frank effect is lost.

Crif Dogs (113 St. Mark’s Pl., 212-614-2728). Probably the only doggery that exhorts its customers to wash down their franks with a shot of Jägermeister, Crif Dogs is brimming with so much overbearing East Village attitude that the food is almost an afterthought. The signature crif dog is a 50/50 mix of beef and pork and is deep-fried, New Jersey-style. Unfortunately it’s mushy, almost like a veggie dog. But the 100%-beef New Yorker, which is longer, thinner, and griddled, is superb, responding to each bite with a juicy, assertive snap and a nice hint of spice. The squishy, neutral bun does nothing to enhance the dog but does nothing to obscure it either. An extremely worthy hot dog.

Dash Dogs (127 Rivington St., 212-254-8885). This tiny sliver of a storefront, about the size of a walk-in closet, just barely qualifies as a sit-down venue, thanks to its three counter stools. The all-beef dogs, which are from Empire National (the same purveyor that used to supply the hot dogs for the sorely missed 2nd Avenue Deli), are griddled and served on a very soft bun, just like Crif Dogs’ New Yorker, but Dash’s dog is a bit shorter and plumper, with a slightly less resounding snap. Not bad, but not quite top-rank.

Ditch Plains (29 Bedford St., 212-633-0202). I had high hopes for the dogs at this newish West Village spot, because it’s run by Marc Murphy and Pamela Schein Murphy, the same folks behind TriBeCa’s excellent Landmarc. The good news is that the bun is lightly grilled, which is always a nice touch; the bad news is that the hot dog is utterly characterless, with nothing to recommend it except a few charred edges. Pfeh.

Katz’s (205 E. Houston St., 800-446-8364). To some people, Katz’s stands for pastrami on rye; to others, salami. But for a true window into the deli’s soul, check out its phone number, which translates to 800-4HOTDOG. The all-beef beauties, griddled to a gorgeously burnished burgundy-brown, are the beefiest franks in town, truly earning the nickname “tube steak.” Too bad the buns are so nondescript, but at least the huge sales volume ensures that they’re always fresh.

Old Town Bar (45 E. 18th St., 212-529-6732). Old Town’s New England-style, top-sliced bun, which is lightly grilled and buttered, is by far the city’s best, and a model that other doggeries would do well to emulate. Unfortunately, the tavern’s frank — all-beef but skinless — is soft bordering on mushy, and unworthy of the noble vessel in which it sits. A frustratingly uneven experience.

Sparky’s (333 Lafayette St., 212-334-3035). This small downtown shop, spun off from the original Williamsburg Sparky’s, serves hormone- and antibiotic-free dogs with a thin skin. The default cooking method is steaming, but the staff will grill or broil your frank if you ask, which improves the results considerably. The problem is the bun, which comes from Amy’s Bread — thick, dense, and heavy, it’s an estimable piece of bread but is badly miscast as a hot dog bun. Reduce its thickness by about half and get back to me.

So there we are. An uneven assortment, to be sure, but I still count it as progress that the city is now featuring more and more sit-down doggeries. With luck, New Yorkers will have even more to choose from by next October.