The Best Restaurants in the United States

The stools, the coffee pots, the laminated menu the size of a small newspaper: from the outside this looks like a classic American diner, until the pupusas and fried plantains arrive. La Cabaña is a roadside counter spot drawing on Honduran, Nicaraguan, and Guatemalan recipes to feed a crowd that clearly knows every server by name. Just maybe check the soccer schedule before you go, because the TV over the bar has opinions.

Arched doorways, colorful tile, and a bar stacked floor to ceiling with mezcal and tequila set the cantina tone at this lively Mexican restaurant in downtown Aspen. Sizzling fajitas arrive tableside, ceviches and Baja-style oysters balance the heavier plates, and the agave program gives you plenty of reason to linger. The frozen margarita is non-negotiable after a day on the mountain.

The draft beer comes in a frosty goblet roughly the size of a young pumpkin, which tells you exactly what kind of place this is. Liuzza's by the Track is a barroom with a menu, the menu heavy on po' boys and Creole and Cajun stews that rotate as daily specials. The gumbo is a brothy shrimp version seasoned carefully enough that you probably won't reach for the hot sauce, though you will reach for that goblet.

A lunch counter tucked inside a Filipino grocery across from Pike Place Market, Oriental Mart runs on handwritten signs and a stainless steel aesthetic that hasn't changed in decades. The adobo and sinigang feel like exactly the kind of food that connects strangers, which is probably why the wifi password is "TALK TO EACH OTHER." Skip the fish throwers; eat here.

The courtyard alone explains why reservations disappear. Penny Roma is a casual Italian trattoria in the Mission from the Flour + Water team, with handmade pasta and a California instinct for what's in season at the farmers market this week. The room is dense with plants, the focaccia arrives puffed and fragrant, and the stuffed pasta tends toward the kind of richness that makes you forget you ordered a second glass of wine.

Doubles, the Trinidadian street snack of curried chickpeas on soft flatbread, landed in New Orleans largely because of this sunny Mid-City cafe. Chef-owner Lisa Nelson runs a compact menu of Trinbagonian cooking in a room that feels like it's been around forever. The fried fish on coco bread with plantains and hot sauce makes a strong case for the city's sandwich conversation. A neighborhood spot where you order at the counter and eat slowly.

The marble-topped bar by the window is where regulars settle in for the long haul at this French bistro on California Street. The cooking leans California without making a fuss about it, rustic and careful in equal measure. Desserts come from B. Patisserie next door, which means skipping them would be a genuine act of self-sabotage. The Michelin Guide has it listed as a selected restaurant.

Sant Ambroeus runs the same reliable Milanese playbook it does in New York, the Hamptons, and Palm Beach, which tells you exactly who walks through the door. This sleek trattoria on Main Street does fritto misto, spaghetti al pomodoro, and black truffle pizza for a crowd that tends to know each other, or at least act like it. Long lunches are the format here. Il Baretto next door keeps aperitivo hour going indefinitely.

Counter-service pasta shop in Rockridge where everything on the menu costs less than a glass of wine at the place next door. You order at the register, grab a seat inside or out, and wait for housemade pasta that tracks the seasons, except for the spaghetti, which stays put year-round because nobody has complained. The Sfizio cocktail, amaro with tonic and lime, is a good reason not to order water.

The handmade dumplings and rope-thick noodles in sesame paste have kept this Northern Chinese restaurant an anchor of Oakland's Chinatown for what feels like forever. The room is utilitarian in the best sense: Lazy Susans, communal tables, and staff who will seat you next to strangers when the place fills up, which it does. Order something chewy and don't expect to spend much.

Red booths, dim lighting, and dry-aged beef in a Victorian building that somehow reads as a speakeasy for people who take their ribeyes seriously. This is a classic steakhouse with Aspen's wallet fully open: raw bar towers, truffle-topped cuts, lobster tail add-ons, and eight sauces that locals have opinions about. The potato pavés drowned in béarnaise have a nickname, which tells you everything. Reservations open 30 days out, and regulars treat that date like a stock drop.

Salt-and-pepper frogs' legs and claypot catfish steaks are the signal that this is not the Vietnamese restaurant where you order the same three things. Tan Dinh is a family-run sit-down spot on the West Bank, the heart of New Orleans's Vietnamese American community, and the menu goes well past crowd-pleasing pho into dishes that reward a little curiosity. Roasted quail shows up; so does banh mi. The room is unpretentious, the cooking is not.

The Caribbean Roast at this casual sandwich counter has a whole legal backstory involving a disputed marinade recipe, which is either reassuring or alarming depending on your feelings about intellectual property. The sandwich itself is pork shoulder slow-roasted into slippery, citrus-kissed hunks, piled onto a Macrina roll with garlic aioli, pickled jalapeños, caramelized onions, and cilantro. Seattle's most fought-over lunch.

Ethiopian jazz plays low while honey wine arrives, and the room slows down around both. Walia is a sit-down Ethiopian restaurant tucked into a busy San Jose shopping plaza, the kind of spot where the parking lot is slightly chaotic but nobody inside seems to notice. The injera is the vehicle for everything, and the kitchen handles spice with a careful hand. Street parking is your friend here.

An open grill turning satay skewers is the anchor of the room at this refined Indonesian-French restaurant, a genuine departure from the steak-and-pasta circuit that defines most of Aspen's dining scene. The menu runs to lobster noodles, crab fried rice, and charred chicken, all built to share, which makes the format feel natural rather than forced. Bar seats put you closest to the action.

The servers here will gladly walk you through the nuances of vegan cheeses without a trace of condescension, which sets the tone for this plant-based restaurant in Cow Hollow. The menu reads like a convincing case for skipping meat, and the burgers, built on mushrooms and spinach with chipotle aioli and tomato chutney, give skeptics a comfortable entry point. A good first date for the vegan-curious.

A hot chicken shop that started as a popup and grew into an East Bay institution with a '90s aesthetic that nobody asked them to drop. The bone-in and the sandwiches are the move, and the heat scale is honest, meaning medium is a real warning and anything above it is a commitment. Complimentary comeback sauce arrives ready to talk you off the ledge. Nashville-style fried chicken done without ceremony.

Shredded bison tacos and pashofa, a soupy pork-and-hominy dish, share a menu in a suburban shopping center in Broken Arrow, which tells you a lot about what the chef is doing here. NĀTV is a casual restaurant built around Native cuisine, a tradition barely represented in Oklahoma despite the state being home to dozens of federally recognized tribes. The chef, a James Beard semifinalist, sources from local farms and tribes, and the cooking moves freely between traditional and modern without making a production of it.

A five-course prix-fixe of seasonal Italian, five nights a week, in a room that reads like a neighborhood spot rather than the occasion it technically is. The cooking is quiet and direct, letting good ingredients do the work without much fuss or flourish. Breads and desserts are made in-house, and the antipasti arrive fast, which is fortunate, because you're otherwise looking at a two-to-three-hour sit.

The lamb shank arrives like a main character, trailing spiced coconut and turning heads at neighboring tables. This Thai restaurant in Upper Lawrenceville earns its reputation as a special-occasion room, with a patio that is, somewhat literally, a garden. The massaman curry it arrives in tends to sell out early, so booking a table on the earlier side is less a suggestion than a mild warning. A 2024 James Beard semifinalist.

Named for the bustling Jakarta markets that shaped the chef's cooking, Pasar is an Indonesian restaurant on Alberta Street where the snacking is the main event. Coconut rice wraps around shredded chicken, a chile-bright coconut soup arrives buried under fried tofu and tempeh, and the desserts lean toward a crispy banana-and-chocolate crepe that earns its reputation. Bon Appétit named it one of America's Best New Restaurants in 2024.

Palomas come in tajín-rimmed Jarritos bottles here, and the bartender's expression suggests you should feel lucky to have one. Sidewinder is a diner-bar in Garfield that leans hard into the dingy-vintage aesthetic, the kind of place where a $3 Bud Heavy and a sloppy joe feel like the whole point. It was opened by the team behind an upscale French bistro, which explains nothing and everything at once.

The focaccia here arrives stuffed with ricotta, taleggio, and truffle oil, which a Times writer once described as a quesadilla for superyacht owners, and he wasn't wrong. This rustic Mediterranean small-plates restaurant is the larger River North sibling of a West Loop original that made communal bench seating feel like a good idea. Shareable plates, a warm room, and a crowd that lingers long past the last bite.

The mochiko fried chicken, made with dark meat only, has apparently non-negotiable opinions about itself. This Hawaiian plate lunch spot grew from pandemic-era pop-up dinners to a downtown Chicago address, serving huli huli chicken, loco moco, and grilled pork belly to a city where 60 degrees is not, in fact, considered freezing. The New York Times named it one of Chicago's 25 best restaurants right now.

Carpeted walls and glass cases displaying the day's ingredients signal that this isn't your average dim sum hall. Dragon Beaux is a contemporary Cantonese spot in the Richmond where the siu mai comes topped with crab roe and the barbecue buns have a crunchy sugar crust that makes you rethink every bun you've had before. Save room for the custard dumplings, which arrive looking demure and then absolutely don't.

The Ferry Building and Bay Bridge fill the windows of this upscale Cantonese restaurant and dim sum spot in Embarcadero Center, which feels more like a special-occasion destination than a Sunday cart-and-stamp-card affair. The space runs large, with sun-drenched rooms, intimate nooks, and an outdoor patio. Lunch brings an extensive dim sum menu; dinner leans into Cantonese classics. The coffee lava buns are the kind of thing you'll think about afterward.

A small Ethiopian restaurant in SoMa where the injera arrives lined with careful, spiced preparations and the meatless plates hold their own against the meat without anyone making a fuss about it. The kitchen leans into berbere and slow-cooked sauces, and the house-made cheese is the kind of quiet addition that makes you order it. It doubles as a community gathering space with deep roots in the Tigrayan diaspora.

The birds go in whole and come out deeply browned, every slice carrying crackling skin and a soft layer of fat underneath. This tiny strip-mall Thai restaurant in East Hollywood keeps things focused: duck over rice, duck over thin jade noodles, or duck as the salad. The carcass goes into the pot for a dark broth that becomes duck noodle soup, which regulars treat as a second visit folded into the first.

Alon Shaya's first restaurant outside Louisiana sits inside Denver's Source Hotel, and the entrance doubles as a coffee counter before wrapping into a full Israeli Mediterranean dining room. The menu reads like a grandmother's repertoire run through a more adventurous kitchen, hummus dressed with roasted chanterelles, duck matzo ball soup, pomegranate lamb shank. Brunch draws a crowd that knows to arrive early.

The Sunday wait stretches to three hours, which tells you most of what you need to know about this South Indian restaurant tucked into a former Tex-Mex spot on Highway 635. The menu leans into Andhra Pradesh home cooking: dosas in several forms, idli, bisi bele bath, filter coffee, all landing on tables full of Telugu conversation. The New York Times put it on their Restaurant List in 2024, and the regulars looked unsurprised.

The old firehouse brick is still there, but the menu skews izakaya, routed through Connecticut and landing somewhere delightfully hard to categorize. Chef Bill Taibe runs a freewheeling Japanese kitchen where kung pao karaage shares space with kimchi udon finished like carbonara. The bar is walk-in only and pairs well with sake or cocktails while you figure out whether to order one more round of small plates or just order everything.

The mid-century bones, globe lights, and tall windows looking onto South Main suggest a certain kind of restaurant, and then the menu arrives to politely disagree. This fusion dinner spot folds Indian, Mexican, Thai, and Italian into each other without apparent anxiety, and the corn mash, which the New York Times flagged as one of the standout dishes of 2024, is a case study in how that audacity pays off. The chef earned a James Beard semifinalist nod in 2026. Portions run large, so bring company.

The fajitas arrive on a sizzling cast-iron skillet, prime Niman Ranch beef with charred onions and tortillas made from brisket trimmings, which tells you everything about how this Tex-Mex restaurant operates. From the team behind the Pit Room next door, Candente is enormous, patio and all, and the kitchen swings for the scale. Weekend brunch turns into a full production. The Michelin Guide has it listed among their selected Houston picks.

The mashup that writes itself on paper sometimes falls apart on the plate, but Korean and Cajun cooking share enough soul food DNA that at KJUN it holds together. The chef trained under the legendary Leah Chase in New Orleans, and the Murray Hill dining room reflects both that Southern lineage and her Korean roots, with fried dishes, rice, banchan, and Louisiana classics sharing the menu without any of them feeling like they wandered in from somewhere else.

The tap pours house wine, which tells you something about this Italian restaurant's priorities. Via Triozzi, on Lower Greenville, runs one of the deeper natural wine programs in Dallas, sourced from small family vineyards, and the kitchen matches that energy with a lasagne al forno that commits fully to its Bolognese. Texas Monthly named it among the state's top new restaurants, and Eater lists it as essential. The room fills early and stays that way.

A warm gougère lands on the table before you've even settled in, which tells you something about the pace of this French restaurant in downtown Paso Robles. The room keeps it simple, pressed concrete and Edison bulbs, while the kitchen leans toward steaks and shareable plates built for a wine country crowd. The Los Angeles Times named it one of California's 101 best restaurants, and the Michelin Guide has it selected.

A bakery by day and a Burmese restaurant by night, The Dutchess occupies a charming old building in the center of Ojai without taking itself too seriously. The menu runs through snacks, curries, and sharing plates, and the tea leaf salad alone explains why the Los Angeles Times put it on their list of California's 101 best restaurants. Save room for dessert, because the pastry side of this operation clearly hasn't clocked out.

Newsprint wallpaper lines the hallway at this perpetually packed East Village Indian canteen, which relocated from Queens and came back louder. The kitchen runs on fierce seasoning and ornate presentations, often arriving in Le Creuset Dutch ovens that make the table feel like a small occasion. Order rice, order the crispy parathas, and plan to use them both. A Michelin Selected restaurant with a loyal following that doesn't really need to be told to come back.

Tables sit on burlap coffee bags pressed under thick glass, and the dining room fills with tall greenery, so the room already has a point of view before the food arrives. This is a contemporary Ethiopian restaurant where the kitchen swaps beef for tuna in the kifto and keeps a long roster of vegan dishes most spots skip. Honey wine and craft Ethiopian beer round out a meal that the San Francisco Chronicle has put on its Top 100 list.

Funicular is a restaurant at the top of the Mtatsminda funicular, so the view comes with the ride and the pantheon of Georgian writers is a short stroll away for anyone feeling reflective. The chef is from Madeira, which explains why the seafood and the European dishes outshine the Georgian standards. It holds two Gault&Millau toques, and it suits a date or a meeting where you'd like the city kept at a flattering distance.

Fried chicken in five flavors, ranging from OG to Nashville hot, is the organizing principle at this Southern comfort spot tucked into East Providence. The menu reads like a greatest-hits of the genre: pimento mac and cheese, sweet potato tater tots, cornbread with honey butter. The chef earned a James Beard semifinalist nod in 2025, which is not a bad argument for crossing a state line for a thigh, a drumstick, and Texas toast.

Duck confit done pad Thai style sits on the same menu as lamb burger with green chile stew, which tells you exactly what kind of place Joseph's Culinary Pub is: a full-service bar and restaurant in Santa Fe where the kitchen roams freely across cuisines and nobody seems bothered by that. Walk-ins are welcome, the bar pours wine, beer, cider, and sake, and the chef earned a James Beard semifinalist nod in 2025.

Sapphire velvet banquettes and jacketed servers signal exactly what this is: a fine dining room where Angie Mar fuses classic French technique with her Chinese heritage in a Greenwich Village townhouse that glitters like a jewel box. The cooking leans rich and saucy, the way haute French is supposed to, and a tasting menu is available for those who want the full ceremony. James Beard semifinalist, 2026.

The name means "apple" in Japanese, which is the first clue that this Greenpoint comfort-food spot isn't playing by anyone else's rules. The menu takes American and European classics and folds in Japanese technique until neither side is quite recognizable, in the most compelling way. A Hokkaido beef curry baked into a golden oval pie is the thing people talk about. Selected by the Michelin Guide, and a 2025 James Beard semifinalist.

A carved wooden owl marks the door to this intimate Hayes Valley tasting menu restaurant, which feels like someone's very tasteful living room if that person happened to know exactly what they were doing. The multicourse menu shifts with the seasons, and the kitchen's plating leans toward composed and precise without tipping into fussy. The adjacent Linden Room cocktail bar is a natural warm-up act.

Flatware dangling from pot racks overhead sets the tone for this tasting-menu spot on Florida's Emerald Coast: charming, a little offbeat, nothing like the beachy seafood shacks nearby. Communal tables and counter stools facing an open kitchen keep it casual in feel if not in ambition. The kitchen runs a short rotating menu of contemporary American courses built around whatever the season offers. A 2025 James Beard semifinalist for Best Chef: South.

David Chang's Asian-American restaurant on the second floor of the Boulevard Tower has Strip views and the kind of casual-cool energy his name has meant for a long time. The pork belly bao is the thing people come back for, soft bun, supple meat, hoisin, done. The bar runs passionfruit spritzes, Milk Bar sits next door, and the spicy rice cakes alone justify skipping whatever you had planned for dinner.

The tacos here are pinned with toothpicks and dropped straight into the fryer, which tells you most of what you need to know. This snug taco shop on Ballard Ave serves deep-fried tacos built around Lebanese-spiced beef or herby cauliflower, a family recipe from the chef's grandmother. Soups round out the short menu. Pale pink walls and floral oilcloths set the scene. Esquire named it one of America's best new restaurants in 2025.

The oxtail Italian beef sandwich, melting with cheese and spiked with giardiniera, tells you right away what kind of chef is running this upscale New American kitchen. Hush is an intimate room in a Scottsdale strip mall, open kitchen sending smells out front, nostalgic rock at a volume that invites conversation. The menu shifts often, but the kitchen's touch with vegetables, fish, and meat stays constant. Reservations through Tock are a smart move.

Vegetables get top billing here, but the duck confit is quietly on the menu for anyone who needs convincing. All Saints is a casual-ish dinner spot where the kitchen coaxes produce into the kind of food you order twice, and the cocktail program runs from raspberry spritzes to zero-proof drinks that don't taste like an afterthought. The former Bardo space on Hennepin feels lived-in and easy, the sort of room that doesn't announce its ambitions.

Twenty seats, one turn per night, and a tasting menu that changes with whatever the season insists on. Demi is Gavin Kaysen's intimate counter restaurant, a deliberately small operation that sits in the shadow of his better-known Spoon and Stable nearby. The room is close enough that you can watch the kitchen work through every course, which is either thrilling or slightly stressful depending on your personality.

A falafel banh mi or hummus topped with kimchi sounds like a fever dream until you're eating it and it makes complete sense. This casual counter-service spot on Lyndale blends global pantries without apology, and the Moroccan-spiced fried chicken stuffed into a cheddar scallion biscuit is the kind of menu item that shouldn't work on paper. Order at the counter, grab a seat, and walk next door to Milkjam Creamery when the mood calls for it.

Dân Dã calls its cooking "comfort cuisine," which undersells a menu that runs from curried beef claypot to salads piled with jellyfish, cuttlefish, and pickled lotus root. It's a Vietnamese restaurant on East Colfax with an enormous menu and a full bar that leans into tamarind, guava, and lychee, so the drinks keep up with the food. The dining room packs in tightly, which gives the whole place an energy that suits the cooking.

No octopus, no branzino, no horiatiki. Bar Vlaha is a Greek restaurant that tells a narrower story: the Vlachs, mountain shepherds from northern Greece who foraged forests and fished freshwater streams rather than the Aegean. The menu follows that logic, so beef cheeks braise with prunes in clay pots and the tzatziki gets a drizzle of honey. The New York Times named it among Boston's 25 best restaurants right now, which feels about right for a room this specific.

Oma's Hideaway is the loud, shiny little sister of Gado Gado, a Division Street restaurant where psychedelic Indonesian music plays over a menu that treats the word "restraint" as a rumor. Salted egg yolk curry fries come with sambal ketchup, and lamb satay arrives tucked inside a fried steam bun. The bar glitters like a disco ball, so the drinks keep pace, and nobody here is quietly checking their phone.

The name means "foreigner," which sets the tone for a modern Indian restaurant that treats the cuisine as a starting point rather than a finish line. Tucked into a Chandler strip mall, it runs cocktails spiked with masala chai vodka or ghee-washed whiskey alongside small plates, large plates, and pani puri worth sharing around the table. The room skews upscale without being stiff about it.

The Coco Puffs, chocolate cream puffs blanketed in frosting, are what most people come for, but Liliha is equally a diner, and the counter at the Kuakini Street original is where you want to sit. Short-order cooks work at a pace that makes you forget your coffee is getting cold. Crisp waffles, char-grilled burgers, oxtail soup, butter rolls with aggressively red jelly: the menu reads like it was written by someone who never overthought anything.

Tocabe is a fast-casual spot where you shuffle down the line pointing at things, Chipotle-style, except the thing you're pointing at is fry bread folded around spiced bison. The recipes come from the Osage side of the family, and the berry BBQ-glazed ribs are the sort of detail no chain has ever bothered to invent. It's counter service, so come as you are, and the online shop sells blue corn pancake mix if you're feeling ambitious.

Wisteria and grapevines twist overhead like they're mid-takeover of the exposed ductwork, and the candlelight does the rest. Field & Vine is a New American restaurant tucked down an alley in Somerville, where a wood-burning hearth crisps duck legs and chars cabbage while the menu quietly gets weird in good ways, miso butter on cornbread, fish-sauce aioli in the tartare. The New York Times named it among Boston's 25 best.

The room seats maybe thirty people and fills up fast, tucked between the West End and Parkside in a spot that looks like a classic neighborhood tavern and then proceeds to serve broiled scallop with caviar and hollandaise. Small plates anchor the menu, the wine list has a point of view, and the cocktails are sharper than the setting lets on. Condé Nast Traveler put it on their Portland list, which surprises no one who's been.

The line outside the squat building on Fredericksburg Road has been a fixture of San Antonio mornings, afternoons, and evenings for as long as anyone can remember. This is a Tex-Mex diner in the old sense, the kind where eggs over easy get doused in salsa and scooped up with warm flour tortillas, and where the menu is so sprawling that regulars still haven't covered it. The staff treats everyone like they've been coming for years, which, in many cases, they have.

Salvaged wood, warm lighting, and a room that feels like it was always there make this Cambridge neighborhood restaurant an easy place to linger. The Mediterranean menu runs prix-fixe, built around careful sourcing and combinations that take a few turns you wouldn't expect. The New York Times and Bon Appétit have both taken notice, and the regulars act accordingly, like they found it first.

The corner windows at this Mediterranean restaurant pull you in before you've even touched the door, and the room inside delivers on the promise: open, sunny, and staffed by people who seem to mean it. The kitchen ranges from Morocco to Syria to Spain without breaking a sweat, and the booths fill fast enough that the long counter bar exists for a reason. The wine program earned a James Beard Semifinalist nod, which in Dallas is its own kind of conversation starter.

A few tables and counter seats in the Theater District, which means you're eating Hyderabadi food elbow-to-elbow with strangers who are also very happy about it. The New York Times called out the gongura chicken biryani, and the Michelin Guide took note too. The menu pulls from Hyderabad with nods to the wider subcontinent, and the kitchen moves fast without feeling rushed.

A French team runs this relaxed bistro on Knox Street, and the room reads more neighborhood than tourist trap, with no beret-shaped light fixtures in sight. Classics like duck à l'orange and rabbit in mustard sauce anchor the dinner menu, while lunch keeps things simpler with oysters and fish rillettes. The Paris-Brest is the kind of dessert you order, then immediately resent whoever you brought with you. The Michelin Guide has it selected.

Southern Indian cooking in a strip mall near the Medical Center, where the booths are scuffed and the lighting belongs in a horror meme but the thalis arrive on banana leaves piled around a mound of white rice. This is the kind of casual, inexpensive spot that fills a real gap, since Northern Indian food tends to dominate the city. The biryanis and Madras curries hold up well for delivery, though the lunch thali is the reason regulars keep coming back.