If you're about 5'4" and female, ordering six dumplings is plenty, even though you're hungry and nine dumplings seems far more economical and practical, and even though every single dumpling is a mini-morsel of perfection.
I spent time in the Midwest this past weekend and realized this: Midwestern food is comforting, with its basic ingredients of cheese and meat and milk, and after eating it you kinda want to take a nap and ruminate about maybe taking a walk tomorrow...or not. But New York food assaults your palate with its spices and fusions and crazy pairings you would have sworn were formed from some strange recipe in which two pages stuck together to form the concoction you're currently eating. But unlike Rachel's trifle, it's delicious and light and fabulous, and just to celebrate your amazing meal, you feel like skipping off to a strange bar on the Lower East Side and sipping PBR from the can just because dinner was So. Freaking. Awesome.
Midwest, I miss you and your values and trees and grounded people -- but I don't miss your food. I love you, New York, and your quirky, insane, fantastic, and more-often-than-not overpriced menus -- if not your hipsters, ever-present concrete, and inflated sense of self-importance.