The Best Places to Drink in the United States

String lights, happy green plants, and shelves of natural wine with wacky labels set the tone at this Columbia City aperitivo bar and bottle shop. It lives next door to Italian restaurant La Medusa, which means a lot of people wander in for a quick pre-dinner drink and end up staying. The chalkboard runs deep on amari and bitter red spritzes, with prosecco for anyone who prefers their aperitivo without the herbal lecture.

A speakeasy above a pho shop is a concept that earns its own zip code, and Phocific Standard Time delivers on the premise. The Vietnamese coffee martini has become a reason people climb the stairs specifically, but the bar snacks, caramelized crab dip with sesame saltines among them, make lingering easy. Named one of The Infatuation's most fun Seattle bars, it's a cocktail bar that happens to pair very well with whatever you just had downstairs.

Pizz'amici is a tavern-style pizza shop in West Town, where the thin, cracker-crisp crust gets charred on the bottom and cut into squares. It's a nostalgic room with a pepperoni Negroni on the menu, plus tall focaccia and sausage and peppers for the old-school completists. Tables go quickly, so plan ahead or order carryout, which is easier than winning the lottery and only slightly less crowded.

Pizza Matta is a small Logan Square pizzeria from the team behind Giant and Chef's Special, which tells you the people running it have opinions about pie. You build your own 16-inch pizza from red, white, or green sauce, then pile on things like mortadella or caramelized pineapple, no judgment. Seating is limited, so order online and take the whole project home. Eater has it on its list of Chicago's tavern-style thin-crust spots.

They take your phone at the door, lock it away, and mean it. Hidden behind a casual sandwich cafe downtown, Powder Room is an art deco speakeasy where table service and reservations are both required, which sets the tone. Cocktails run from light and herbal to firmly stirred, and the menu is organized by mood rather than spirit. A good place to be present, as they say, whether you planned that or not.

Professor Pizza is a casual West Town pizzeria run by a competitive pizza maker, which means the pies come with a résumé. The tavern-style thin crust cuts to cracker-snap, and the deluxe pepperoni gets hot honey and whipped ricotta, as if the sausage needed a little more going on. The Grand Avenue spot adds two more pie styles, and the pizzas turn up backstage at comedy clubs around town. Eater includes it among Chicago's best tavern-style thin-crust spots.

Secret Pizza is a counter slice shop on the third floor of the Cosmopolitan, reached by a hallway of Rat Pack-era record sleeves that makes the whole thing feel like a bit. The secret got out years ago. Now it's a New York-style slice reheated until it could laminate your fingers, handed over by a quick-moving crew to bleary-eyed clubgoers who eat standing up in a tiny square room or carry it off into the night.

Shelby is a basement cocktail bar in the Financial District, where finding the door is the first round of the evening. Downstairs, the drinks run from a proper espresso martini to a pineapple Averna negroni riff, backed by shared plates like beef tartare and a mushroom dish that politely impersonates escargot. It was a James Beard semifinalist for outstanding bar program. Book on Resy so you only get lost once.

Side Hustle Lounge is a cocktail bar tucked into the Belt Alley, next door to its partner restaurant Mootz Pizza, and it skips the 1920s speakeasy costume for midcentury modern with a retro Vegas streak. The drinks run bright, sometimes electric, with a Detroit lean, like the Detroit Sour's red wine float. Pizza from Mootz arrives alongside, so it's grandpa's basement, if grandpa had a much better bar.

The lighting in this tiki cocktail bar inside Tuffy's Bottle Shop lands somewhere between "jungle shrine" and the Colonel Kurtz scene in Apocalypse Now, which tells you everything about the mood before you've ordered anything. The tiki program goes well past Mai Tais, and the vessels the drinks arrive in are half the show. Two-hour sittings keep things moving; pace yourself on the namesake Suffering Bastards, or your morning will know about it.

Terrazzo floors and a name that promises sunshine it has no intention of delivering, since this cocktail bar on Mills Avenue doesn't open until evening. The vibe skews beachy and unhurried, with tropical, creatively built drinks that have made it a quiet favorite among people who take their rum seriously. It's a sister bar to the Guesthouse, and the two share a sensibility: thoughtful without being fussy.

Rabbits patrol the back patio garden while you eat pizza and drink draft craft beer, which is about as good a setup as Cannon Beach offers. Surfcrest is a convenience store first, with a few aisles of snacks and souvenirs, but walk past the refrigerators and there's a small counter turning out hand-tossed 16-inch pies. Get a table outside if you can, and let the rabbits judge your slice choices.

Fifty wines on self-service taps is the organizing idea here, a wine bar inside Chattahoochee Food Works where you load a card and pour your own 1.5-ounce samples until something clicks. A sommelier runs the place, so the selection is serious without being precious. Bottles on tap are available to take home, and a small food menu of charcuterie boards and paninis gives you enough to keep going without turning it into dinner.

The apothecary shelves and absinthe selection set the mood before you order anything. This cocktail bar in Winter Park has been doing serious, seasonally sourced drinks long enough to have inspired a generation of imitators, and the bartenders here still treat the work like a graduate seminar. Patience is part of the deal; a well-built drink takes as long as it takes. Literate regulars seem to mind the wait least of all.

The bar is in the basement, which is the point. The Drifter is a tiny subterranean cocktail lounge tucked beneath the Green Door Tavern, a speakeasy in the old sense of the word, not just the aesthetic. Low ceilings, dim light, and the general feeling that you've wandered somewhere you weren't supposed to find. The kind of place where a well-made drink tastes better simply because you had to descend a staircase to get it.

Mules come topped with torched marshmallows and rosemary here, which tells you immediately that this is not your average neighborhood bar, even if it very much looks like one. Mismatched vintage sofas, a fireplace, and bartenders who seem genuinely happy to see you give The Nook the feel of a cozy cabin that someone accidentally stocked with serious cocktails. West Seattle locals treat it like a living room, which is more or less what it is.

The lounge at the Wayfarer has been around forever, tucked inside a low-slung, wood-accented building steps from the beach, with Haystack Rock framed through the window. It leans into whiskey, and the bar program swings seasonal: hot toddies and Irish coffee when the Oregon coast does its worst, blueberry lavender lemonade spiked with vodka when it relents. The kind of cozy corner where date night actually feels like one.

The restaurant's name painted across the side of the building sets the tone before you're even inside. Tori Tori is a Mills District izakaya, meaning you'll spend a happy evening moving between yakitori skewers, creative sake cocktails, and fried rice packed with crab. No reservations, so the drill is arriving early or accepting your fate in the line out front, which most regulars seem to take as a point of pride.

The entrance is a gated alley door with a buzzer, which already tells you something about the evening ahead. Trona is a speakeasy cocktail bar in Central East Austin that draws equally from Mexico and Japan, so mezcal and tequila share the back bar with Japanese whisky. The space runs narrow with a small patio, and reservations are the move. Bringing a date here feels a little smug, which is kind of the point.

Villa Nova is a no-frills, family-run pizzeria in suburban Stickney, the kind of place where the pie arrives square-cut, the way thin-crust tavern pizza is supposed to. The sausage is fennel-forward and left in chunky, meatball-ish clumps, which is a bold choice for a topping and a good one. It's been around forever, so expect regulars who haven't looked at the menu in years. Eater included it among Chicago's best tavern-style thin-crust spots.

A wine shop and tasting room tucked into Edgewood, steps from the Candler Park-Edgewood MARTA station, which makes the flight of three half-pours feel almost responsible. The daily wine flights rotate, and you can also order by the glass or pick up a bottle to take home. A patio out front catches good weather, and the sandwich shop next door means nobody has to drink on an empty stomach.

Tetsuya Wakuda made Las Vegas his US debut, reportedly because the Strip's energy reminded him of Shinjuku, which is either a compliment or a warning depending on your tolerance for spectacle. This fine dining room inside The Venetian pulls Japanese seafood, Canadian lobster, and Tasmanian oysters into a menu that moves between traditional and contemporary Japanese cooking. A hidden omakase room exists for those who know to ask, with rare whisky alongside the meal.

WG Pizzas is a Lakeview tavern-style pizzeria, a spin-off of an old suburban Highwood joint that has been feeding Lake County for ages. The crust is cut thin but keeps a few proud bubbles at the edges, so it lands chewier than the cracker-crisp stuff, closer to what South Side spots turn out. Order online, grab a BLT pie, and mind the monthly chef takeovers, which are a good excuse to pretend you planned ahead.

Zarella is a River North tavern-style pizzeria run by the Boka group, which means the thin, cornmeal-dusted pies come with a cocktail menu and a downstairs speakeasy lounge. Two well-known Chicago chefs developed the crusts, and the toppings include mortadella and all-beef pepperoni, so expect River North prices for what is, technically, bar pizza. Eater has named it among the city's best tavern-style pizza spots.

The copper bar catches the afternoon light in a way that makes you want to order a Bloody Mary before you've even sat down. Zuni is a bi-level California bistro that's been a fixture on Market Street forever, shaped like a triangle and decorated like someone with actual taste. The wood-fired chicken for two, served with a warm bread salad, is the dish regulars have been quietly hoarding for decades.

The bartender here is a fourth-generation New Orleanian who will mix your Ramos Gin Fizz while narrating its entire biography. Bar Uncommon is a cocktail bar tucked into the Renaissance Pere Marquette, with the spare, hotel-adjacent look you'd expect, but Chris McMillian, one of the founders of the Museum of the American Cocktail, is the reason regulars overlook the lobby entrance. Classics, made the old way, with a history lecture included at no extra charge.

A red light above an unmarked door in a Chelsea coffee shop is the only signal that there's a cocktail bar behind it. Once through, the room opens into flocked wallpaper, fringed lampshades, and an antique copper bathtub sitting squarely in the middle of things, which everyone photographs and then pretends they weren't going to. The seven-seat copper bar is the calmer alternative. Dressed-up but not stiff, and a long way from the espresso machine out front.

A wood-stone oven dominates the back of this cocktail bar on Valencia, turning out pizza while the bartenders run a tight menu of drinks built on a few well-chosen flavors rather than a paragraph of modifiers. The room hits that sweet spot between lively and unpretentious, with filament bulbs over the bar and a crowd that looks like they found the place before it was a thing, even though everyone has found it by now.

A black and white marble floor runs from the front door all the way back through the bar, past the restaurant, and out into a quiet courtyard, putting a lot of physical distance between you and Bourbon Street without much effort. The cocktail bar leans into New Orleans classics like the Vieux Carré and Ramos gin fizz alongside bottled punches and house recipes built on acid phosphate and champagne vinegar, which is not a sentence you read every day.

Bare cement walls, a rope-strung ceiling, and Edison bulbs doing almost nothing to warm the place up: Churchill is a neighborhood cocktail bar that leans into its chill rather than fighting it. Early-90s hip hop keeps things honest, the cocktails are carefully made, and the bourbon-spiced nuts are the kind of detail that earns loyalty. Car headlights sweep through the windows as drivers take the Market Street turn, which adds a bit of unplanned theater.

The name comes from Aristophanes: "Quickly, bring me a beaker of wine so I may wet my mind and say something clever." An intimate neighborhood wine bar connected by a knocked-through wall to the Cork & Bottle shop next door, Clever leans into its origins without being precious about them. The list is serious, the cocktails are well made, and the beers are worth a look too, which is either scope creep or just good sense.

Frenchmen Street runs on live music, but D.B.A. is there for the beer, the spirits, and the wine, with bands as a bonus rather than the point. Two redwood-lined rooms share a central bar, one leaning lounge, one leaning jazz club, both dim and ceiling-fan slow. The New York sister bar genes show a little, which gives this New Orleans dive a slightly unlikely polish that the regulars seem happy to ignore.

The building is roughly the size and shape of a railway car, wedged next to a gas station on Saint Charles with fairy lights strung through the overhanging trees. Delachaise is a wine and beer bar where the front terrace somehow becomes exactly where you want to be, watching the street roll by. Over 40 wines by the glass keep the options interesting without the prices getting precious about it.

A basement cocktail bar in the Financial District with dark red walls, a chandelier, and macramé screens that somehow land between 1980s lounge and faint tiki, all packed into semicircular banquettes that seat over a hundred. The inventive menu carries the fingerprints of the Death & Co. team. On quieter weeknights they may seat you at the bar only, which is worth knowing before you bring a crowd.

The bar curves like the stern of a Spanish galleon, which should tell you what kind of night to expect. This candlelit cocktail lounge off the TriBeCa steakhouse of the same name leans into the drama: heavy drapes, tapestry walls, shaded pendant lights, and booths deep enough to disappear into. The back bar is loaded with premium spirits, and the Key Lime Pie cocktail was invented here, for better or worse.

Red Hook sits off every subway line, which keeps Fort Defiance comfortably local. This all-day neighborhood bar fits eight tables and a bar counter that seats twelve if everyone breathes in. The name nods to a nearby Revolutionary War fort that once blocked the British from the East River, which gives the place more historical gravitas than most spots this relaxed have any business claiming.

The glowing floor stayed when the Hudson Hotel's Library Bar got its makeover, but the furniture got considerably more fashionable. This cocktail bar swings between loud dance music and live jazz depending on the night, with exposed brick, low tables, and lighting that flatters everyone equally. It's the kind of flirty hotel bar where the room does most of the work, and nobody seems to mind.