The Best Places to Drink and Do in the United States

Xolo is a Mexico City-inspired cocktail bar on lower Westheimer where the drinks arrive with a chemistry-class résumé: house infusions, clarified everything, a Negroni built around nixtamalized corn. There's a butter-pecan carajillo, a taco topped with caviar, and speakers custom-built for the room, which is how you know someone cared about the bass. Expect cocktail prices and good shoes.

Yancy's is an Inner Sunset sports bar that looks like an antiques fair and a pool hall had a child, minus the pool table. What you get instead is a row of well-lit dart lanes, a wall of TVs, and stained glass lamps doing their best against the faded carpet and a patina of dust. Chips in the corner are the whole kitchen, and the drinks are cheap and strong enough that the decor starts to look intentional.

Cactus Music curates the listening experience here, which tells you something about the clientele Hotel Saint Augustine is after. This hotel lounge sits across from the Menil campus and spills across three rooms of haute-design chairs and low couches, feeling more like someone's very tasteful living room than a hotel bar. The cocktail list is concise, the kitchen runs through the Bludorn team, and Montrose neighbors have adopted it accordingly.

Each cocktail on the menu is credited to the specific bartender who created it, which is either a charming act of transparency or a very public performance review. This neighborhood cocktail bar and casual kitchen in the Heights has a wraparound patio that fills with locals who treat it like a living room. The team behind Anvil runs the place, so the drinks are taken seriously even when the vibe stays loose.

Taxidermy, graffitied walls, mannequins, shelves of old shoes, and a trippy dome with bean bag chairs on the second floor: Notsuoh is less a dive bar and more a three-story cabinet of curiosities that also happens to serve drinks. The art is strange, the vibe is stranger, and the whole place reads like a dare Houston issues to anyone who thinks Austin has a monopoly on weird. An old-school Main Street institution that earns every square foot.

Every book on the shelves, and even pressed under the glass bar top, is about wine. The Library is a wine bar tucked into Spring Branch, where the staff knows their Jura from their Savoie and a "Head Librarian's Preferred Drinking List" exists for anyone who needs a nudge toward a bottle. The selection leans toward esoteric and cult producers, so this is less "Cabernet for the table" and more a place where the menu rewards curiosity.

A giant neon sign reading "Death is coming. Eat trash, be free." sets the tone at this raccoon-themed cocktail bar in Houston. The murals and paintings lean fully into the bit, and the drinks follow suit, running to things like a pho-inspired martini built on rye with Thai chile and star anise. The kitchen stays open until 2am, which is exactly when you need churros and birria ramen the most.

A small "Cocktails" neon sign is the only clue visible through the net-curtained windows of this Williamsburg cocktail bar, which occupies a former auto-parts store near McCarren Park. Inside, ornamental plates crowd the walls, tasseled fittings hang overhead, and ceramic tiles fool the eye into reading as rugs. It feels like a great-aunt's drawing room, if your great-aunt had excellent taste and kept unusual hours.

The last unmarked door at the end of a long basement corridor, no bell, no sign, just turn the handle. This is a cocktail bar tucked beneath a Nordic restaurant on Great Jones Street, sharing a kitchen with the dining room upstairs. The room reads as intentionally low-key, the kind of place where knowing how to find it is half the point, and the other half is that you actually got in.

Marble bar, leather chairs, thick linens, and windows looking straight down Fifth Avenue: Ai Fiori is a formal Italian restaurant on the second floor of the Langham Hotel that telegraphs expense account before you've ordered drinks. The kitchen leans Italian with enough invention to keep it interesting, and the room is polished enough that nobody's rushing you. Gracious service throughout lunch and dinner.

Five tiers of spirits line the back bar at Beaker and Grey, a cocktail bar in Wynwood-adjacent Midtown that pulls a crowd comfortable in nice sneakers. Uplighting catches the brickwork and warm bulbs keep everything buzzy without tipping into lounge-bar gloom. The small lounge beyond the bar has floor-to-ceiling windows that feel a touch showroom, but nobody seems to mind once drinks arrive.

A flaming red domed oven anchors the warehouse-sized dining room, which also has a copper bar, tulip pendant lights, and booths that seem to float slightly above the floor. This is a buzzy Italian restaurant in the Arts District where the crowd's energy and the kitchen's output seem to feed each other. The blistered pizzas and rich pastas are the reason the room is always full, and desserts from the pastry side hold their own.

The carved oak mantle behind the bar holds more bottles than most people have seen in one place, which tells you what kind of bar Blackbird is before anyone says a word. It's a long, narrow neighborhood drinking spot in the Castro, with wood-planked walls, blood-red banquettes, local art for sale overhead, and a pool table tucked behind wrought iron at the far end. Serious spirits list, no pretense.

You reach Caña by walking through a parking garage in the base of a historic Petroleum Building until a podium appears, which is the kind entrance policy that filters out the uncommitted. Inside, a corridor lined with rum bottles leads to a wood-panelled room with leather banquettes and a ribbed concrete ceiling. It's a rum cocktail bar that takes the spirit seriously, and the dim lamplight makes everyone look like they have good taste.

Redwood paneling climbs to a vaulted ceiling lit by stained glass skylights, and a sign on the wall politely warns guests to watch their language. Huber's is a bar that has been around forever, and it shows in the best possible way, with tableside Flaming Spanish Coffees set ablaze by bartenders who have clearly done this before. Old Portland money and curious newcomers share the room, and nobody seems to check their phone.

You book by text, and they text back; no app, no OpenTable, just your name and a party size to a Seattle number you'd better save correctly. Knee High is a tiny, reservation-only speakeasy-style cocktail bar tucked away on Olive Way, the kind of place where finding the door is already part of the evening. Late-night slots open up if you're bold enough to text after ten.

Corrugated iron ceiling, pressed tin bar front, mustard walls: Little Branch looks like a speakeasy that forgot to close. This Greenwich Village cocktail bar carries the DNA of Milk & Honey, the late Sasha Petraske's legendary first act, which means classically made drinks taken seriously and a room that rewards staying a while. It's discreet enough to feel like a find, but open to anyone who can find the door.

A former antique shop on 33rd Street that now deals in classically built cocktails, organized on the menu by category the way a serious bar should be. This is a two-floor cocktail bar from the late Sasha Petraske's lineage, sibling to Little Branch, with communal high tables downstairs where live jazz pulls in the neighbors, and a looser, loungier room upstairs when you need to actually hear yourself think.

A basement cocktail bar on Rivington, reached by a utilitarian staircase and lit just enough to read the menu, which is worth reading because it's full of jokes. Booth seating, exposed brick, and a short row of spirits on the back bar keep things grounded for a room connected to Death & Co. The drinks are serious; the room refuses to be.

A French spirits lounge on Melrose where the cocktail menu is divided into categories named Parfum and Potion, which tells you immediately what kind of evening they have in mind. The team also runs La Descarga and Harvard & Stone, so the theatrics are deliberate. Low lighting, a Parisian lounge sensibility, and a crowd that dressed for it. The menu leans heavily on calvados, armagnac, and eau de vie, which is either your thing or a prompt to try something new.

The cocktail bar up front does brisk business before anyone looks at a menu, which tells you something about Prospect's priorities. This is a polished New American restaurant on the ground floor of a Financial District high-rise, with high ceilings, roomy tables, and a room full of people who expensed lunch and stayed for dinner. The cooking is straightforward and well-executed, leaning on good ingredients and restraint over anything flashy.

The ceiling is woven from the staves of 300 bourbon barrels, which tells you everything about where Rickhouse's priorities lie. This whiskey bar in the Financial District is styled as an old-school saloon, with floor-to-ceiling shelves of bottles behind the counter and a library ladder to reach the top shelf. A back room holds a second bar and a hayloft gallery for looking down, literally, on everyone else.

The cocktail menu runs 32 pages and opens with a table of contents, which tells you everything about how seriously this hotel bar takes its work. Originals are sorted by style; classics are filed by decade. The room holds up in daylight just as well as it does after dark, which isn't something most hotel bars can say without lying. Bring someone who likes to read before they order.

A New Orleans cocktail bar where the inside has been dressed up to look like an outdoor street scene, the way a film studio backlot would imagine the French Quarter. Barrel-aged cocktails are the house move, and the 1920s theme is committed enough that someone looked up the etymology of sassafras before naming the place. The crowd tends toward people who wanted something more atmospheric than a standard Hollywood dive.

A blood bank refrigerator and a roulette wheel anchor the bar at this speakeasy-themed cocktail bar in Capitol Hill, where vested bartenders work in front of shelves stacked with bitters and books. The high ceilings and striped wallpaper lean hard into the 1920s bit, and the room delivers on atmosphere even when the service runs a little transactional. Good for a serious drink in a room that at least committed to the costume.

Leopard-print stage, tartan wallpaper, red leather booths, and a baby grand with a jazz band squeezed in, all on a five-lane highway in Shorecrest. The Anderson is a craft cocktail bar that could not care less about beach-bar minimalism. One room goes full black on black; the other commits to New York kitsch so hard it loops back around to charming. The drinks, not the decor, tend to be the reason people come back.

The ground floor runs dark wood and dim light, with a long bar and clandestine booths; upstairs it's velvet couches and armchairs, like someone's very well-stocked living room. This Lincoln Avenue cocktail bar leans into an old-time saloon feel without making it a costume, pulling sixty-plus classics-leaning drinks organized by spirit and style. The Harry Johnson-style etchings on the menu are either charming or insufferable, depending on your mood.

The scallop-shaped pool behind this Art Deco cocktail bar is what most guests are actually aiming for, which makes the bar itself a pleasantly unhurried place to land. Andre Balazs owns the Raleigh Hotel around it, which explains the crowd that looks like it wandered off a casting call. Order something with gin, find a seat, and let the Collins Avenue faithful do their thing.

A plate-glass window in the exposed-brick wall looks straight into a working still, which tells you everything about what kind of cocktail bar this is. The Shanty is the front room of New York Distilling Company, so the gin in your glass traveled about twenty feet to get there. It sits on a quiet warehouse block in Greenpoint, easy to miss, which seems to suit the regulars just fine.

An unmarked door at the back of Cole's opens into a dimly lit cocktail bar where jazz plays low and Victorian oil lamps glow against wood-panelled walls. The late Sasha Petraske was a part owner, and the room feels exactly like something he'd have built: serious about its classic cocktails, quiet enough to hear the ice hit the glass, and a little too good at making you lose track of the hour.

The name comes from a bourbon cocktail on an old Range menu, which is the kind of origin story that tells you exactly what kind of bar this is. Gun-metal grey walls, bare wood floors, and 70s utilitarian furniture give Dogpatch's Third Rail a chill it takes a drink or two to shake. A neighborhood cocktail bar that doesn't perform warmth, and regulars seem to prefer it that way.

The vintage jukebox leans Glenn Miller and Rat Pack standards, which tells you everything about what kind of night Tosca Café is selling. This old-school North Beach cocktail bar has been around forever, all dark wood and faded glamour that a sympathetic restoration polished back to a shine. Come late, order something simple, and let the room do its thing. If the playlist sounds like your grandparents' wedding, you'll fit right in.

The elongated leaf-shaped island bar, ringed in mustard yellow and sage green stools, sets the tone here: grown-up, art deco, easy jazz in the background. This is a proper cocktail bar where sitting at the counter is the point, not a fallback while you wait for a table. The bartenders are worth watching, and the cocktail menu gives you plenty of reasons to stay put.

Edison bulbs over factory-tiled walls and a ceiling that looks like it never quite finished being renovated: Whitehall calls itself a "gastro bar" rather than a gastropub, and the distinction holds. It's a neighborhood cocktail bar on Greenwich Avenue with a modern British menu running alongside, but people mostly come for the warm room and the staff who seem to mean it. Think London train station, interpreted loosely and affectionately.

The cocktail list pulls from the shelves around you, which tells you exactly what kind of place this is: part upscale liquor store, part proper bar, and committed to being both at once. Depending on which Phoenix-area location you land in, the extras might include a golf simulator, pinball, a pizzeria, or a cigar lounge. The drinks run from spritzes to stirred classics, and the bottles for sale are genuinely worth browsing.

Andrew Tarlow, the restaurateur who more or less invented the Brooklyn communal-table aesthetic, runs his only Manhattan outpost here on East 27th. The neighborhood trattoria seats you at long tables with a daily menu scrawled on butcher paper, and the food leans into the gamy, the bitter, and the slow-cooked, the things that take patience to understand. The New York Times placed it sixth on its 100 Best Restaurants list.

The walls at this Deep Ellum dive bar are covered floor to ceiling in years of pen-and-marker graffiti, and the house policy is to add your own. Adair's Saloon runs on outlaw country and live music most nights, with the honky-tonk crowd and the boot-scooters sharing space without much negotiation. The kitchen stays open until nearly two in the morning, which is exactly when a bar burger tastes best.

The Venn diagram of bar and restaurant has Angry Dog planted right in the overlap, and nobody seems to mind. Cold beer, a game on, chili cheese dogs, burgers, and salads that have no business being this good for a place that smells like fried onions. Close enough to the American Airlines Center and Deep Ellum that it fills up fast on event nights, but regular enough that it works on a Tuesday with nothing going on.

The bookshelf at the back of this Bishop Arts cocktail bar is not for reading. Pull it open and you'll find a hidden back room that rotates global themes, which tracks for a place called Atlas. Out front, Aperol spritzes share the bar with Lone Stars, and the crowd runs from locals to tourists to first dates doing their nervous best. The pho, from a co-owner's family recipe, is a legitimately strange and welcome thing to order at midnight.

Ranch Water on tap sets the tone at this sprawling Maple Avenue sports bar. TVs cover every wall, there's a game room in the back for claw machines and pop-a-shot, and the patio handles overflow when a big game draws a crowd. College football dominates, though Love Island holds its own on the schedule. The kitchen turns out salads that have no business being as good as they are, plus flatbreads solid enough to keep you from just drinking through the evening.

Pinball machines and candlelight set the tone at this casual gay cocktail bar on 16th Street, where the vibe leans more neighborhood hangout than high-drama nightclub. Lounge seating, a patio, and daily drink specials keep regulars coming back through the week. The menu covers craft cocktails, bar snacks, and specialty shots, which is all you really need when the room is this relaxed.

Oak Cliff locals have been calling it "Barb's" for decades, which tells you everything about what kind of place this is. A low-key dive bar with a retro-cool vibe, it runs karaoke on Thursdays and Sundays and burlesque on the third Wednesday of every month, so there's always a reason the room is full. Between sets, the jukebox swings from disco to hip-hop without apology. Your bartender probably drinks here on their nights off.

The Centipede cabinet by the door tells you everything: this is a bar-arcade where a round of drinks and a Street Fighter grudge match are basically the same errand. Twenty-four draft beers keep the tokens flowing, and the front patio fits a crowd large enough for giant Jenga, which is either a selling point or a warning depending on your Friday night. The vibe hovers somewhere between dive bar and Chuck E. Cheese, and nobody here seems bothered by that.

There's no sign in the dim Preston Tower corridor that leads here, which is either a design choice or a filter for the impatient. Bernie's is a cocktail bar with art deco bones, a playlist running Quincy Jones and Stevie Nicks, and drinks poured by bartenders who treat a proper old fashioned as a matter of professional pride. The phone doesn't eat first at the well-dressed bar, which suits the regulars just fine.

The whole room is dressed as a vintage luxury train car, TVs where the windows would be, all looping passing landscapes in sync. It's a cocktail bar, a narrow one, with a chandelier whose crystals would really benefit from something rumbling the floorboards. The drinks lean into the theme, shifting and a little secretive, the kind you order twice without quite knowing why. The bathrooms apparently have their own story, though you'll have to go find out.

The fried chicken gets a 24-hour brine before it hits the fryer, which tells you something about the kitchen's priorities at this Deep Ellum cocktail bar. Six house cocktails are priced like they want you to order a second round, and the vibe is the kind of loose, unhurried thing that feels increasingly rare on Commerce Street. The Dallas Observer handed it Best Fried Chicken in 2024, so the secret is somewhat out, but the room still has its own quiet momentum.

The "Be Kind, Unwind" sign sets the tone at this neighborhood bar just outside Deep Ellum, built from near-scratch inside the bones of the old Starlight Lounge. It's a no-frills spot with DJ nights, music videos, and karaoke keeping things lively. The frozen cherry limeade with vodka is the move, though an Old Fashioned made with Garrison Brothers Single Barrel is there when you feel like being about it.

Dollar bills papering the walls floor to ceiling, Christmas lights above, and a stage that gets a rock band most nights of the week: Chopper John's is a dive bar that knows exactly what it is. The black-and-red room off Indian School Road draws regulars who look like they were designed to match the decor. Pool tables, a patio for smokers, and baseball on the TV fill in the gaps between sets.

Sangria in towers and a drink menu that lists "mimosas" as the soup of the day sets the tone fast at this sports bar on Greenville Ave. Every seat inside, on the patio, or up on the rooftop faces a TV, which makes the place essentially one large, well-lubricated viewing party. Best for a sunny afternoon when the patio fills up and someone's local team is on.

A checkerboard dancefloor, light-up floors downstairs, and a patio that sulks attractively outside, all packed into a small downtown nightclub that drew a line around the block on opening night. DJ sets and pop-up food nights keep the calendar full, but the periodic Dance Dance Revolution parties and lube wrestling events are what really set the tone. The crowd is genuinely mixed in the best way, and nobody seems to be here ironically.

Gold palm fronds hang over the bar like a permanent vacation has been declared, and the drinks menu at this Cuban cocktail bar treats rum the way a serious wine list treats Burgundy. The daiquiri and mojito get thoughtful treatment alongside wilder tropical builds. The same team runs Pigtails and Rough Rider, so the pedigree tracks. Pink tiles, cozy booths, and food to keep things grounded.

Vintage arcade cabinets run on Cobra-stamped tokens, which tells you everything about the vibe before you've touched a joystick. This cocktail bar and arcade in downtown Phoenix covers its walls in local murals, pours signature drinks with names like Garbage Pail Kids and Punch Out, and hosts Valley DJs on weekends. When the crowd hits comic-con density, an anime-themed overflow lounge a few doors down offers Japanese import games and cocktails served in fugu-shaped mugs.

A grilled pimento cheese sandwich and 24 taps anchor this low-key beer garden on the east end of Deep Ellum, where the patio comes equipped with heaters in winter and misters in summer, which is thoughtful given that Dallas has about nine months of summer. The beer selection runs deep into local cans and rotating taps, the bartenders actually know what's on them, and Wednesday brings a small Miller High Life with a Jameson shot for anyone who needs a Wednesday reason.

Andes chocolate mints come with the tab, which sets the tone pretty well for this bar in the Ross Ave corridor. The whole room reads like a grandmother's parlor, elegant and faintly shabby, carpet included, paying loose homage to an old Dallas club of the same name. The drinks lean pricey and the crowd leans comfortable with that. A warm crab dip circulates if anyone gets hungry enough to order off the bites menu.