The 100 Best Beer Bars in the United States

Candlelit tables inside an 18th-century building that, to be honest, should never have stopped being an inn. Clare de Boer of King in the West Village runs this Pine Plains tavern, and the kitchen treats apparent simplicity as a discipline rather than a shortcut. Food & Wine named it one of the top US restaurants in 2025, and it landed a James Beard semifinalist nod for Best New Restaurant. Probably worth the drive from anywhere you are.

A two-story brick former residence just off King Street, Lowland bills itself as a modern take on the 19th-century English tavern, rerouted through the Carolina Lowcountry. The celery salad with dates, cheddar, and walnuts has become the kind of dish people call friends about. Downstairs buzzes; upstairs settles. Food & Wine named it one of the top US restaurants in 2025, and the room seems blissfully unaware of the pressure.

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.

Bar-Bill is a wing tavern in the postcard village of East Aurora, where the sauce goes on with an actual paintbrush, which sounds like a bit until you see how evenly everything gets coated. It's a casual, paper-towel kind of room, the sort where locals argue about the cajun honey butter BBQ versus the hot. Josh Allen once put away 40 wings here in a single sitting, so consider your own order a modest one.

The courtyard at this Design District gastropub has been full since before the neighborhood had boutiques worth shopping in. Michael Schwartz's wood-fired, farm-sourced menu holds a Michelin Bib Gourmand and landed a New York Times best-of list, which hasn't made the regulars any harder to find. Concrete floors, a good bar, and a crowd that ranges from deal-closers to friend-catchers keep the room feeling like somewhere rather than somewhere to be seen.

Vindicktive is a Belltown beer bar built the opposite way from most sports bars: you come for the wings and the game is background noise. The skin shatters like a potato chip over juicy meat, and the flavors run from buffalo to salt and vinegar. It's a blue-cheese-only house, so ranch requests will be received with a long, quiet look. The Infatuation put the wings on its national list, which tracks.

Bungalow is the Logan Square brewpub where the beer runs on wild yeast and the wine is made with as little intervention as the law allows. Tavern-style thin-crust pizza shows up on Tuesdays, cut in squares, but the toppings come from regional farms and the sauces wander off script. Order a pepperoni pie here and you'll feel like you've missed the point. The Beard folks named the beverage program a semifinalist in 2024.

A New Orleans-style tavern in Wicker Park named for the chef's great-grandmother, which tells you the food comes with some actual stakes. The bar up front runs three-deep, the dining room behind it hums with the kind of staff that keeps things loose without losing the thread. Gumbo, po'boys, and beignets anchor the menu, and the Nashville fried chicken has quietly become the thing regulars steer everyone toward.

The malai rigatoni, ridged noodles in a creamy tomato masala, is what half the room orders without looking at the menu. Pijja Palace is a full-on Indian sports bar doing bar pies, hot wings, and dosa-battered onion rings from a ground-floor spot in a Silver Lake Comfort Inn, which sounds like a bit, but isn't. The crowd is loud, the games are on, and the cardamom soft serve closes things out. A James Beard semifinalist for Best New Restaurant.

The wood-paneled room feels like a London gastropub that somehow ended up in Newton Center, which is exactly what the team was going for. Breads, pastas, and ice creams are all made in-house, and the menu shifts with the seasons rather than overstaying its welcome. A pint alongside roast chicken is the obvious move, but the kitchen goes further than it needs to for a neighborhood spot, which is why regulars keep coming back.

Plastic dinosaurs lined up on the ledge, a letterboard menu that changes whenever it feels like it, and a taproom that still reads as someone's living room because it used to be one. This community-focused brewpub in Green Gables pours the Spellbinder hazy IPA alongside a rotating cast of fruit-forward beers, and food trucks regularly pull up out front to fill the gap. Small, friendly, and a little cluttered in the best way.

The copper-topped bar fills up early with Rockridge regulars who treat this neighborhood restaurant like a second living room. It's Italian-inflected California cooking in a rustic room, the kind of place where the charcuterie board arrives before you've fully settled in. A Michelin Bib Gourmand, and surrounded by bookshops and antique stores, which tells you pretty much everything about the crowd.

The dough ferments for a full week before anyone slides a pizza into the oven, which is an unusual amount of patience for a shoe-box takeout counter in suburban Chicago. The result is a tavern-style pie where even the center squares crack, the sauce runs deep, and the Italian sausage stays juicy. The New York Times put it on their Chicago list. Get there early on weekends; it sells out by 5:30.

The bocce court beside the patio gives away what kind of place this is before you even order. The Vig is a gastropub with a long tap list, a solid wine selection, and a food menu with enough vegetarian options to keep everyone at the table happy. The sprawling patio has its own outdoor bar, which cuts down on excuses to go back inside. Local acts and DJs show up on weekends, and the crowd skews toward people who planned to stay for one drink.

Kirwan's is an Irish pub on the Wharf, all dark wood that wouldn't look out of place on a 17th-century naval vessel. Downstairs is for sports fans and conference lanyards pouring Guinness, while an upstairs mezzanine has a closed-off snug and a whiskey room tucked below for anyone who'd like their stout with fewer opinions shouted at it. Shepherd's pie and a spice bag are the order, entry-level pub prices apply.

The outdoor bar lives inside a repurposed shipping container, which tells you something about this brewpub's sensibility. Arizona Wilderness pours a rotating slate of seasonal ales alongside house classics, and the kitchen keeps pace with oversized burgers, an Arizonan hot fried chicken sandwich, and duck fat fries that have developed their own following. The vegan options are less afterthought than actual draw. Bench seating, a beer garden, and desert weather do the rest.

Taxidermy specimens on loan from the Natural History Museum share wall space with mounted trophies, giving this gastropub the look of a library that got lost on a hunting trip. The Contemporary New American menu leans hearty, with Asian inflections woven through comfort-food staples. The Michelin Guide has noted it, and the crowd skews stylish. Maybe leave your most ethically sensitive friend at the hotel.

A proper Irish chip-cutting machine crossed the Atlantic so the fish and chips here would be right. McGonagle's is a neighborhood tavern in Dorchester, a notch upscale but nowhere near precious, where the chef trained under Heston Blumenthal and is quietly making the case that Irish food is more than anyone assumes. The spice bag, Dublin's legendary late-night fried chicken jumble, arrives in a paper bag, fries and all, and it will reorder your priorities.

A craft brewery and dim sum restaurant sharing the same address sounds like a dare, but here it works without irony. While you wait for a table, there are 40 rotating drafts and a flower market to keep you occupied. The menu runs from bao and dumplings to Peking duck and steamed whole fish, best navigated with a group and a willingness to order past the point of reason.

Dark wood, red banquettes, checkerboard floors, and walls lined with caricatures of people who were famous before anyone in the room was born. Minetta Tavern is an old-school Greenwich Village steakhouse and tavern that has been around forever and wears it without apology. The menu leans classic, the burger has its own mythology, and the pommes aligot alone could anchor an argument. The room fills fast, and nobody seems in a hurry to leave.

Dimmi Dimmi is a corner Italian spot in Lincoln Park that took over a three-decade neighborhood fixture and somehow kept the regulars from rioting. The tavern-style pizzas have crackly edges and come cut in squares, and the handmade pastas hold their own beside them. It's a sit-down dinner, so book ahead, or try your luck at a weekday lunch, which is when the people who know things tend to walk in.

Atomic Museum photos and artwork line the walls of this sprawling brewery taproom and restaurant in Centennial Hills, where the theme commits fully to the bit. Twenty-six taps run from stouts and barleywine to pineapple cider, and the food holds its own: pastrami sandwiches, pork belly street tacos, and a roster of pizzas. Two patios with ping pong and cornhole make it clear nobody here is in a hurry to leave.

Thirty craft beers on tap and a menu long enough to settle any argument about what to order on game day: Finney's Crafthouse is a sports tavern with brick walls, reclaimed wood, and a dog-friendly patio. Pub staples share the menu with wagyu and bison burgers and ahi poke bowls, while the cocktails lean on fresh-squeezed juice. It's the California chain's Las Vegas debut, and the crowd has treated it accordingly.

One of Us is a sports gastropub in North Park where the screens default to women's games, with soccer, basketball, hockey, and softball running daily and the men's games allowed in for the big occasions. The kitchen leans on a coal-fired oven for pizza and smoked wings, and the cocktails are named for penalties and goals, so ordering a Yellow Card is a bit you'll commit to. Eater listed it among San Diego's best new restaurants in October 2026.

Sierra Nevada's East Coast brewery comes with a sprawling taproom where the beer list runs from flagship lagers to whatever they're playing with this season. The on-site garden supplies the kitchen, which does wood-fired pizza and duck-fat fries alongside the pints, but drinking is the point. Outside there's a patio with a fire pit, a bocce court, cornhole, and an amphitheater, which sounds like overkill until you're on your third flight.

A craft brewery and taproom in Sharonville with a covered patio, an upper deck, and a rotating roster of house beers that runs from straightforward lagers to whatever the small-batch experiment of the moment happens to be. The kitchen keeps pace with burgers, shareable plates, and a few heartier options, the kind of pub menu that gives you a reason to stay for a third pint.

Black Briar is a gastropub in the old Bar Takito space on North Morgan, which means it has 110 seats and a menu that wanders from raw oysters to venison tartare without apologizing. Snail toast shares the page with handmade cavatelli, so nobody has to commit to a single personality. There's a U-shaped bar for the solo diners and an open kitchen for anyone who likes to watch dinner get argued over.

Crooked Ewe is a craft brewery and ale house where the patio hangs over the St. Joseph River, so your cream ale comes with a view and a faint sense of smugness. The kitchen smokes brisket and pastrami with real conviction, then turns around and runs a full vegan menu that changes often, jackfruit tacos included. It's casual, order-at-your-own-pace stuff, and the carnivores and the plant people share a table without incident.

A biergarten tucked into one of downtown Wilmington's favorite old spaces, Prost lands somewhere between the Rhine and the Cape Fear River, serving schnitzel and spaetzle alongside fried flounder sandwiches without any apparent crisis of identity. The pretzel board with cheese sauce and beer mustard is the move if you're just in for a pint. The tap list runs both European and American, so nobody has to compromise.

Twenty-seven taps pour at the Beer Hall HQ, which is the anchor of a local brewing outfit with locations across Santa Fe and Albuquerque. Food comes from whatever truck is parked in the courtyard that day, ranging from barbecue to Cubanos, so check the website before you go. The sprawling outdoor lounge makes it easy to lose an afternoon, which is probably the point.

A cafe and pub in Troy Hill where no one has a job title because everyone is cross-trained to do everything, which somehow produces a vibe closer to a house party than a service industry shift. The brunch menu leans into local partnerships, and the beer and cider list stays tight and neighborhood-focused. Bring a weekend morning and no particular plans.

Bacon-wrapped meatloaf with a tomato jam glaze is the signature at this Southern comfort food and craft beer spot just across the river from campus. The patio is the main event on game days, and the menu leans hard into the classics: prime rib rolls, collard greens, sweet potato tots, biscuits. It's the kind of place where the sides could carry the whole meal on their own, which in Alabama is not considered a problem.

StillWest is a brewery across from Snow King, which makes it the natural place to land after the slopes or the Cowboy Coaster, depending on the season. The covered balcony does most of the work, and the Hucklebuck, a wheat beer the color of a grape soda, tastes like huckleberry. Breaded chicken tenders and hand-cut fries keep things casual, and in summer the alcoholic slushies are what half of Jackson is talking about.

Racing memorabilia lines the exposed brick walls of this craft brewery, where the beer garden stretches out to fire pits, communal tables, and a corner that welcomes dogs. A rotating food truck or two parks out front, so you're not stuck choosing between a pint and dinner. The house IPAs lean citrusy and dry, and the blonde ale is the kind of thing you order when the Tucson heat starts winning.

A southside corner bar where the game is always on and the regulars have claimed their stools for life. The tiny flattop behind the bar turns out chicken wings done the Milwaukee way: fried, sauced, then grilled, so you get char and caramelization and a vinegar bite all at once. It's a rougher room than the Bay View scene around it, which is exactly the point.

A microbrewery that taps new seasonal sours, stouts, and IPAs several times a month, Lua also happens to fly in fresh-caught seafood, because why not. The kitchen, led by a chef who trained at Michelin-starred restaurants in Chicago and the Bay Area, turns out Dungeness crab cakes alongside burgers, wings, and caviar. Named after a Staffordshire bull terrier, which tells you the vibe is relaxed enough that nobody's keeping score.

The ales are named after tax terms, which is either the best brewing pun or the most on-brand origin story you'll ever hear. This gastropub a few blocks from Lucas Oil Stadium pours Belgian-style beers alongside a menu built on Indiana-grown meat and produce. The kitchen leans hearty, think brisket croquettes and beer-battered pork tenderloin with Belgian fries. The cocktail list takes itself only slightly more seriously than the beer names do.

Third Space is a brewery and taproom in the Menomonee Valley, parked alongside a river and a set of train tracks in a way that feels more discovered than designed. The indoor-outdoor space fills up with live music and food trucks on good nights, and their hoppy, hazy ales show up on taps all over Milwaukee. Happy Place, the sessionable flagship, is the one you'll see everywhere and order without looking at the menu.

This Edgewater pizza shop does deep-dish on a sourdough crust that borrows from a Greek bread called lagana, then turns around and makes cracker-thin tavern pies from the same dough. There's barely any seating and the oven is small, so most people order online and take it home, where an uncut pizza stays crunchy. Eater has put it on its lists for deep-dish, thin-crust, and best pizza overall.

A converted warehouse near downtown with exposed brick, high ceilings, and the kind of eclectic lighting that says someone had fun with the budget. Barrio Brewing Co. is a sprawling brewpub with an old-school Tucson feel, pouring house-made ales alongside a pub menu that leans local, including their own take on the Sonoran Dog. It's been around forever, which in Arizona brewing terms makes it practically a geological feature.

A 30-foot mesquite bar that stretches indoors and out sets the tone at this Oro Valley gastropub. The patio comes rigged with misters, a gas fire pit, and heaters, so the Santa Catalina views are on offer year-round. Rotating taps keep the beer side moving, and the kitchen leans into crowd-pleasing pub food. Comfortable in the way a place is when it's thought through rather than just decorated.

A two-story craft beer bar inside Tucson's Metal Arts Village, with a sprawling patio equipped with misters and a clear sightline to the Santa Catalina Mountains. The taps rotate through local and regional brews, and the bottle list wanders into sake and Mexican wine, which keeps things interesting. Pizza comes in from a neighboring spot, so the food situation is handled. It's the kind of place that's genuinely hard to leave once you've settled into a corner.

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.

An Irish gastropub in Shirlington where the full Irish breakfast runs on weekdays too, not just weekends. The owner is from Tipperary, and it shows: rashers, puddings, beans, eggs, and a potato cake with homemade brown bread on the plate. The kind of place where a pint and a proper fry-up at noon on a Tuesday feels entirely reasonable, which is really the whole point of an Irish pub.

This Pilsen pizza-and-coffee spot wears its owners' Filipino and Mexican roots on the crust, most memorably with longganisa and giardiniera together on a tavern-style pie. The menu includes pan pies and slices, plus coffee drinks from the people behind Side Practice, so you can have breakfast and dinner in one visit. It tends to sell out, which is the polite way of saying go early and bring a plan B.

Flo & Santos is a South Loop pub that can't pick a lane, so it picked three: tavern-style thin-crust pizza, Polish comfort food, and a beer garden with daily specials. Order the pie with kielbasa and sauerkraut and a pierogi sampler on the side, and your cardiologist will lose track of the subplots. Casual, reasonably priced, and equally happy to see you in a work shirt or a ballgame jersey.

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 line at this Rosedale brewpub sometimes spills into the parking lot, which tells you most of what you need to know. It's been around forever, pours a serious range of craft beer, and keeps the food exactly where it belongs: fish and chips, hot dogs, chili cheese fries. Grab a spot at the big bar or drag yourself out to the patio, where the furniture looks assembled from good intentions and spare parts.

Twenty-four Belgian taps gleam behind the bar, and the bottle list runs past forty deep. This is a Belgian beer bar in the truest sense, with Trappist ales, hefeweizens, and pilsners anchoring the list alongside a few Central Texas picks for local color. The exposed brick and silver hardware make the room feel appropriately serious. If you're celebrating something, the move is sabering a giant bottle of Deus and drinking it from champagne glasses, which is ridiculous and correct.

A craft brewery where a pizza food truck parks just outside and freshly popped popcorn sits on the counter inside, which tells you everything about the vibe before you've even ordered. The patio spills into a grassy area with picnic tables where kids have room to run while the adults work through a rotating tap list. Come as you are and stay longer than you planned.

A vegan brewpub where the kitchen makes its own ferments, and you can buy a jar to take home if one wins you over. Nachos arrive topped with mole-braised hibiscus; a crudités spread leans on cashew queso. The rotating ferment list, cabbage-pear kimchi one week, seasonal giardiniera the next, turns ordering into a low-stakes experiment. Downtown San Jose, tucked between two bakeries, which says something about the neighborhood's current priorities.