The Best American Food in the United States

The Depression dog, a Chicago hot dog variant that arrives with fries piled right on top of the bun, is a good reason to find this counter-service hot dog stand on Armitage. Redhot Ranch uses natural-casing sausages, which means an actual snap when you bite in. The smash burgers are a serious value. The same owners run 35th Street Red Hots near Sox Park, same menu, if that's closer.

A tree grows through the middle of the second-floor patio, which tells you something about the vibe here. Kettner Exchange is a bi-level progressive American restaurant in Little Italy where Asian techniques quietly run the kitchen, and the rooftop draws a crowd that came to be seen but stays for the food. Downstairs buzzes; upstairs breathes. The menu moves between crispy rice and dumplings with enough conviction that you forget this place doubles as a nightlife destination.

AJ's Jazzy Grill is a casual Creole counter in Tremé that began as a food truck under the Claiborne bridge, which explains why everything tastes faintly like a backyard cookout. There are a few tables and some TVs, but the real business is takeout and delivery. Come in sweatpants, order the sweet potato pie the chef's mom bakes, and don't bother pretending you're stopping by for the atmosphere.

The owner is often spotted bussing tables or running food on a busy night, which sets the tone for this Lower Greenville bar and American kitchen that manages to feel like it's been around forever. Cozy enough for a quiet date, loose enough for drinks with friends, it occupies that useful middle ground between neighborhood bar and proper dinner spot. An English chef handles the kitchen, keeping things grounded rather than showy.

The back patio is the whole reason to come: a lush, sheltered garden that you'd never guess existed from the Hayes Street sidewalk. Arbor is a casual American comfort spot with a strong lean toward vegan options, serving burgers, chile cheese fries, and the kind of mac and cheese that makes you stop mid-sentence. On a sunny afternoon the patio fills up fast, which in San Francisco means you should probably just go on the next sunny afternoon.

Chandeliers hang over the shrimp and grits at this Southern comfort restaurant, which commits to the contradiction with a straight face. The menu runs through fried chicken and waffles, pimento mac and cheese, and biscuits, but the room is full date-night, not diner. The bourbon list is one of the longer ones in Iowa, which is saying something in a state that takes corn seriously. End with the hummingbird cake if you know what's good for you.

Chapter IV is a modern Creole restaurant from the family behind Dooky Chase, which means the gumbo arrives with a dark roux and a full cast of sausage, shrimp, chicken, and crab. The menu is long enough to stall a first-timer, though the squid ink linguine is a good place to start. Dress like you might run into someone, because by all accounts your ex, your old coworker, and half your high school class are already inside.

Club Frills is a cocktail bar dressed as a 70s basement, with fake wood paneling, a disco ball, and tabletops that are marble only in spirit. It wears the dive costume without the sticky floors or the low prices. The drinks run low-ABV and funky, often in colors not found in nature, and the kitchen turns out a burger built around diced olives. It was a James Beard semifinalist for Outstanding Professional in Cocktail Service.

Congaree And Penn is a working farm about twelve miles outside Downtown that happens to have a restaurant and a cidery attached, so you may meet a goat before you meet your server. By day it's picnic lunches and U-Pick. After dark it goes adults-only and turns into a proper Southern dinner of duck legs and short ribs, with small-batch cider on tap and a private table out in the grapevines for groups.

A specialty goods shop and sandwich counter in downtown Napa where the house-cured meats do the heavy lifting. The biscuits are a reason to come on their own, crunchy outside and cloud-soft inside, and the country ham and jam version with pimento cheese makes a strong case for eating before noon. Frozen four-packs of biscuits are available to go, for those with the self-awareness to plan ahead.

Deanie's on Hayne is a casual, family-run seafood house out in the Lakeview-adjacent stretch, far from any Bourbon Street souvenir shop with a daiquiri machine. The platters arrive heaped with fried shrimp, catfish, stuffed crab, and oyster patties, and they're built for sharing, though nobody will fault you for not. The daily specials run around twenty dollars. On Thursdays, the original owner, Maw Maw Deanie, sometimes stops by your table to chat.

The roast beef Manhattan, a pile of roasted chuck and mashed potatoes drowned in gravy, tells you everything you need to know about this soul food diner on North College. Barack Obama ate here before he was Barack Obama, and the regulars have never let the place forget it. A fire in 2020 took the famously uneven floors but not the rib tips or the neck bones, and the rebuilt room now seats 500 and has a full bar.

A laminated sign reading "Welcome hunters. Wild game check in available" sets the tone at this family-run butcher and smokehouse near Old Town Los Gatos. Fishermen drop off coolers of fresh catch for the smoker; vegetarians get a pickle-and-avocado sandwich and a polite smile. Order anything built around the house-smoked meat, and skip the barbecue-sauce-heavy Super Hero in favor of the Jackie Special, a maple-sugar-cured turkey and bacon situation with cheddar and avocado.

The gumbo here has been a Detroit obsession for decades, a shrimp-and-sausage situation thickened with okra and a proprietary spice blend nobody's giving up the recipe for. This is a carryout counter spot, casual and no-frills, with jambalaya, red beans and rice, and shrimp po'boys on crackly baguettes rounding out a menu that stays squarely in the Louisiana lane. Order at the counter, take it home, and resist eating it in the car.

A family-owned restaurant and market where the steam trays hold Samoan turkey tails, Tongan taro leaf stew with lamb, and Hawaiian musubi, not the usual local lunch options. The LDS church's long missionary ties to the Pacific islands drew Polynesian communities to Salt Lake City, and Pacific Seas has quietly become their gathering place. Cool off with a mango 'otai, a blended coconut-and-pineapple drink that earns its space on the tray.

Nashville-style fried chicken sandwiches from a chef who used to fence with Bobby Flay on television, now happily running a fast-casual spot instead. Viet Pham, formerly of fine dining, keeps the menu tight: hot chicken sandwiches, crinkle-cut fries, a Mexican street corn salad, and a few house sauces. The move from tasting menus to paper trays is either a pivot or a relief, and the lines suggest nobody is complaining either way.

A lounge-y small-plates spot in Lakewood where the dessert menu competes hard with everything that came before it. The kitchen leans into seasonal Midwestern vegetables with some global seasoning along the way, and the pastry work is serious enough that skipping it would be a mistake. New ownership from the group behind Cloak and Dagger brought in fresh culinary talent, and the room has found a new sense of itself since.

The squat brick building on Webb Avenue smells like Thanksgiving every single day, because Sandwich Board roasts its turkey in-house and has been doing so forever. This old-school deli counter is an Alameda institution, and regulars have been known to walk in, say nothing, and walk out with exactly what they wanted. The Dutch crunch sandwiches are the move, loaded with that carved turkey alongside avocado and pepperoncinis.

A retro fish camp on Sullivans Island where the Southern tradition of fried seafood in baskets still anchors the menu, though the kitchen under chef Jason Stanhope has broadened out into local fish crudo, fresh catch, and oysters by the plate. The beverage list leans heavily on crisp whites and tropical cocktails, which makes stopping in for a drink and a dozen oysters an entirely reasonable Tuesday-afternoon decision.

Biscuits baked fresh every morning anchor the menu at this casual brunch spot, where the rest of the food takes its cues from homestyle Texan cooking. The limeade, freshly juiced and apparently the whole origin story, pairs with cocktails made from Utah distillery spirits. Hearty salads and from-scratch everything fill out the menu. The kind of neighborhood spot that started at farmers markets and never lost that energy.

The mini chocolate chip cookies have their own fan base, which tells you something about how this casual American restaurant operates. Chef Lynn Pritchard built a devoted following at the original Clive location before moving downtown, and the regulars followed. The menu mixes old standbys with newer plates, the wine list is carefully put together, and the patio catches the afternoon light when Des Moines cooperates.

A deli tucked inside a gym in a business park, which sounds like a punchline until you taste the sandwich. The chef behind the counter trained at Californios, and it shows in small ways, a lemon aioli that quietly rewires a turkey-cheddar, sourdough from Petaluma's beloved Della Fattoria. A second location has since opened with more room, but the original health club stall carries on, improbably, for those who know.

A sausage bar where the cocktails come on draft and the burger is made with a Velveeta-sauced sausage patty, which tells you everything about the philosophy here. The Vanguard is a laid-back Milwaukee watering hole built around an uncommonly serious sausage program, brats and poutine and fried curds all sharing the menu with Midwestern beers and house cocktails. The crowd is here to eat well without taking any of it too seriously, which is a harder trick than it looks.

A banh mi Benedict gives you a pretty clear read on where Nook's head is at. This downtown Tucson breakfast and brunch spot does New American riffs on morning classics, with local art on the walls and the kind of wooden-and-light interior that makes a 10am meal feel like a considered decision. The hanger steak and eggs with smoked chimichurri quietly upstages everything around it. Weekends fill up fast.

Exposed brick, visible ductwork, and a full ice creamery counter signal that this casual American comfort-food restaurant is playing a longer game than the average burger spot. The menu runs from pretzel knots and cheese curds through short rib ravioli and grilled filet, with brunch holding its own on weekends. The Tucson Urban Burger, stacked with bacon, chipotle barbecue, and tobacco onions, tends to settle the question of what to order.

Thirty beers on tap and a whiskey wall that takes a minute to read: this is a gastropub in St. Philip's Plaza with exposed brick, wood beams, and a patio worth claiming on a good Tucson evening. The kitchen grinds its own burger meat, finishes it with bacon jam, and handles brunch on weekends. The bar runs late, closing at 2 a.m., which explains the crowd still there long after dinner has become a memory.

The kind of New American restaurant where your water glass refills before you notice it's low and plates disappear at exactly the right moment. The executive chef, who came up through Noma and Vernick, brings a menu worth slowing down for in a dining room that rewards lingering. Old City has plenty of options, but few rooms where the service feels this quietly choreographed.

Trill Burgers is a counter-service smash burger joint run by Houston rapper Bun B, and it debuted to lines that suggested the city had never been told burgers exist. The patties come under American cheese, pickles, caramelized onions, and the house Trill sauce, with an Impossible version for vegans who'd rather not be left holding the fries. Plan on $15 to $20 for a combo, and come in whatever you wore to the gym.

Life-sized Spider-Man watches you eat your burger, which feels about right for a counter-service spot where the menu hangs on the wall and you can hear the flat-top sizzling from the register. The patties come on sweet King's Hawaiian rolls, loaded with things like mac and cheese or pastrami, while Marvel films loop on the TVs and kids work free arcade games. Gyros and other diner bites round out the menu for anyone not in a superhero mood.

Tucked inside the historic Wheeler Opera House, this New American pub is where Aspen locals go when they've had enough of the scene and just want a bison burger and a beer. The menu roams widely, from Nashville hot chicken to tikka masala fries, without making a fuss about it. The European-style outdoor tables are the spot when the weather cooperates, and the whole place runs smoothly before and after shows next door.

Old-timey bulbs hang over leather booths inside this rock-and-roll burger joint, where the menu leans loud and the vibe leans louder. The Johnny Cash Burger piles on bacon, crisp onions, peppers, and barbecue sauce in a way that manages to feel both retro and inevitable. A lamb burger with goat cheese is there for anyone who wants to go funkier. Most people pair either with a cold beer from the full bar.

Perched at Top of the Rock with a patio that faces the lake just as the sun drops behind the Ozark hills, this casual bar and grill makes it easy to stay for one more round. The kitchen borrows a few dishes from the fancier Osage Restaurant next door, so the food punches above the dive-bar vibe. Go at golden hour, find a seat with water in front of you, and order the bourbon Osage Smash while you still can.

Anthony Bourdain ate here, which tells you more than a star ever could. Burns Original BBQ is an old-school Houston institution serving smoked ribs, links, chicken, and sides in portions sized for people who skipped lunch and possibly breakfast. The 10-pound baked potato feeds 15, which is either absurd or inspired depending on your group. Multiple locations around the city, and somehow you can also grab it at Kroger.

Crawfish cooked wok-style, the way you'd handle crab or lobster in Chinese cuisine, so every crevice gets a proper coating of spice and oil. This Cajun-Asian boil spot in southwest Houston does mudbugs in flavors like Thai Basil or a butter-garlic-citrus house special, and the heat scale runs up to something called Cray Cray, which should tell you all you need to know about who's ordering it.

Memphis barbecue leans on the dry rub and long hickory-and-pecan smoke times rather than the sauce-forward styles that get more press elsewhere, and Central BBQ is where you go to understand why that matters. It's a lively, counter-order barbecue joint with four locations around town; the owner tends to post up at this Poplar Avenue spot, handing out plates of smoked meat like a man who never tires of the job. The smoked chicken wings are the sleeper move.

The pairing of fried chicken and waffles sounds simple until you see a menu built around named combinations, each with its own waffle flavor, schmear, and sauce. Dame's is a soul food spot inside the Liberty Warehouse where lines form on a near-daily basis, and the kitchen gives you enough customization options that ordering becomes a minor project. A sweet potato waffle with orange-honeycomb schmear is not a thing you walk away forgetting.

The bread comes from Leidenheimer, the legendary New Orleans bakery, which tells you most of what you need to know about this po'boy shop's priorities. Gulf seafood and roasted meats get stuffed into fresh baguettes with all the classic condiments, and a Thanksgiving Everyday option, turkey with cornbread stuffing and cranberry sauce, quietly steals the room. A bananas foster old-fashioned is on the cocktail list, because of course it is.