The 41 Best Delis in the United States

The name means "to fuss around in the kitchen," which tells you everything about this Jewish deli in Knoxville's Old City. It started as a pop-up and grew into a proper room serving comfort food that bubbe would recognize but maybe not endorse, like matzoh ball soup finished with chili oil. The challah comes out of the oven daily, the babkas rotate flavors, and the sandwiches are large enough to warrant a to-go box. A James Beard semifinalist.

The No. 19, a hot pastrami on rye with Swiss, coleslaw, and Russian dressing, is the thing strangers stop you to ask about when you're carrying it to your table. Langer's is an old-school deli, been around forever, with booths, a full menu of latkes and chopped liver, and breakfast served all day. The Michelin Guide gives it a Bib Gourmand, which feels about right for a place where the sandwich does all the talking.

Half-pound sandwiches on Jewish rye, a proper Reuben, and homemade cake that sells out before dinner, this is a New York-style Jewish deli doing things the way delis used to. The family operation has earned a Michelin Bib Gourmand, which feels about right for a counter where leaving hungry would require genuine effort. Go early if you want the cake.

A modern Jewish deli operating out of an old firehouse in Ohio City, where the bread case alone causes problems for anyone trying to leave quickly. Babka, challah, rugelach, and knishes anchor one end of the menu; koji-cured pastrami sandwiches have become the thing people line up for. The chef earned a James Beard semifinalist nod in 2025, as did the pastry program, which tells you something about how seriously both sides of the counter are taken.

This is a deli at Circa where the sandwiches arrive big enough to share, and the fluorescent lights stay on around the clock. That suits the clientele, a mix of tourists who haven't been to bed yet and people who woke up wanting a reuben at breakfast. Pancakes and shakshuka run until 2pm, and the matzo ball soup shows up whenever your night is ending. Ordering online spares you the lighting.

The corned beef and pastrami sandwiches here are the kind that require a game plan before you pick them up. This old-school Jewish deli in Queen Village has been feeding Philadelphia for as long as anyone can remember, with a menu that runs from Reubens and smoked fish to cheesesteaks and a full breakfast. The Michelin Guide awarded it a Bib Gourmand, which tracks. Come hungry and do not make afternoon plans.

Mudgie's is a Corktown sandwich counter and wine shop, which is a combination that sounds like a compromise and works like a plan. The big patio gets a seasonal tiki bar and live music in summer, and Sundays bring a brunch menu where the sandwiches show up wearing fried eggs. It's casual, order-at-the-counter territory, with a James Beard Outstanding Hospitality semifinal nod on the record.

A light-filled New York-style Jewish deli in Atlanta, which already sets the scene. Black-and-white photos on the walls, display cases lined with cheesecake, and both a market counter and a proper sit-down room. The matzoh ball soup and smoked Nova platters read like they've been on the menu forever. Transplanted New Yorkers tend to show up looking slightly too relieved.

The sourdough starter for the bagels here is fed with imported Brooklyn water, a detail that tells you exactly where this deli-bar's loyalties lie. Grossman's is a relaxed Jewish-style deli and cocktail bar in Santa Rosa, turning out knishes, latkes, and chopped liver in a corner of California that doesn't see nearly enough of them. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the best restaurants in Sonoma County and called its bagels the best in the Bay Area.

The telera rolls are baked fresh every morning at this Fruitvale panaderia and deli, which means the tortas built on them have a structural advantage before anything else is added. The chorizo con papas filling gets made a day ahead so the potato and spiced sausage can concentrate, then it's layered with avocado and a chile de arbol salsa that earns its reputation. Two indoor tables, a loyal crowd of regulars, and a sandwich that sells out early.

La Rosa is a tiny East End sandwich counter with a menu short enough to memorize on the walk in: two fixed panini and a rotating special. It exists because the team behind Mimo missed their own lunch sandwiches after the restaurant went dinner-only, which is a relatable reason to open a shop. The bread comes from El Bolillo, gelato is on hand for dessert, and Eater named it a Best New Restaurant in Houston.

A Southern California pastrami institution, been around forever, finally opened its first outpost outside the state on Rainbow Boulevard, drive-thru included. The move took six years from announcement to first sandwich, which is either very Vegas or very deli. Pastrami dips are the draw, though the pastrami chili cheese fries have their own following. A casual counter spot where nobody is pretending it's anything other than a great pastrami sandwich.

A Jewish deli in the Bay Area is a rare enough thing that Saul's has been feeding North Berkeley for decades without much competition. The latkes are aggressively crunchy, the pastrami comes fatty and brined on rye with grainy mustard, and raspberry jam sits on every table like a standing invitation. Pancakes are fluffy in the way a diner promises but rarely delivers. Weekend brunch draws a crowd that clearly has nowhere more important to be.

Chibanos is a casual sandwich shop in Washington Square West where Cuban and Chinese cooking share a single piece of toasted pan cubano. Char siu pork goes between the bread, and breakfast versions ride on soft bolo baos. The yuca fries and Chinese sausage croquetas are there if you want a side, and the jasmine flan closes things out. Order at the counter, then settle in at a table inside or out, where half the neighborhood seems to be doing the same. The Infatuation put it at number 25 on its list of Philadelphia's best restaurants.

A Polish deli counter tucked into the back corner of Buffalo's old Broadway Market, where the pierogies come stuffed with sauerkraut or farmers cheese and the czarnina, a sweet-sour soup made with dried fruit and blood, sorts out the curious from the committed. Polish sausage rounds out a short, unapologetic menu. The market itself draws extra vendors around Easter, but the deli draws regulars year-round who already know exactly what they're getting.

The seeded rye bread is baked on-site, and the corned beef and pastrami get piled onto it over the counter, no table service involved. Davis Bakery is an old-school Jewish deli that has been around forever in Cleveland, still family-owned, still efficient in the way that only counter-service places can be. In a country where Jewish delis keep quietly disappearing, this one draws a line out the door without seeming to notice the trend.

Sandwich Hut is a takeout counter in Hope that builds Italian subs and treats pepperoncini less as a garnish than a core belief. The Allitalia stacks prosciutto, capocollo, pepperoni, and provolone under a generous drift of those crinkly green peppers. There are no tables to speak of, so plan on eating it on a walk, wearing some of it, and wiping oil off your jacket sleeve like a rite of passage.

Buddy Valastro, the Cake Boss himself, turned his Jersey deli upbringing into a sandwich counter on the Strip, where the mozzarella is made in house and every sandwich arrives on toasted ciabatta with your choice of sweet or hot peppers. It's casual and counter-service, the kind of stop where you can wear the same shirt you wore on the plane. Eater has put its sandwiches on a best-of list.

An all-day deli, market, and restaurant tucked into Echo Park's edge, sharing a complex with a bakery and a used bookshop, which is either very convenient or a plot to keep you there all afternoon. The team behind it cut their teeth at serious kitchens, and the menu runs from Clark Street bread sandwiches at lunch to a Zuni-riffing roast chicken at dinner. The room is casual and light-filled, the kind where people stop pretending they're just popping in.

Mona Lisa is an old-school Italian deli and red-sauce restaurant on India Street, run by the family's third generation and still stocked like somebody's nonna is checking the shelves. The market side carries packaged goods and wine, and the counter builds the kind of sub that needs two hands and a napkin strategy. Next door, lasagna and pasta come in half portions, which feels like the restaurant admitting you also have a day to finish.

Schneider Deli is a counter-service Jewish deli tucked into the old Ohio House Motel diner, where the midcentury bones survived the renovation and so did the booths. Breakfast runs from corned beef hash to bagels with lox, then lunch turns to pastrami, brisket, and turkey sliced to order while you watch. Casual, quick, and priced like a sandwich shop, which is the correct amount of money for a deli.