The Best Restaurants in the United States

The live-fire kitchen and on-site garden are doing a lot of the talking at this Californian restaurant set in a restored roadhouse that's been around forever, now reimagined under the Auberge Collection. Shared plates lean into whatever the garden is offering, with wood-fired sides and open-flame cooking giving everything a pleasant smokiness. The room feels simultaneously like somewhere your grandfather drank and somewhere your architect friend chose for dinner.

A New American restaurant attached to Schubas Tavern, which tells you something about the room: relaxed enough for a show night, sharper than it needs to be. The menu is wide on purpose, covering enough ground that the whole group lands somewhere happy, but the kitchen keeps surprising you, with butternut squash schnitzel over spaetzle or Spanish mackerel on coconut-braised chickpeas. Good food that doesn't require an occasion.

Dragon murals climb the brick walls of this Hong Kong-style restaurant and bar tucked off the main road in Shaw, which means half the fun is finding it. The room goes dark and candlelit, the cocktails lean playful and strong, and the menu runs from cheung fun to chili wontons to glossy soy-and-ginger pork ribs. Fortune cookies arrive at the end, though the wisdom inside reportedly skews more Gucci Mane than Confucius.

A Spanish restaurant perched on the 16th floor of Disney's Coronado Springs Resort, Toledo earns its height with glass walls that frame the Epcot fireworks on a clear night. The room runs to bold colors, geometric tiles, and ceilings tall enough to feel genuinely grand. The menu works through tapas, steaks, and a Rioja-braised chicken that quietly upstages everything around it.

The first question your server asks is how you feel about heat, and you should answer carefully. This sleek Bushwick Thai restaurant occupies a concrete-and-metal warehouse space dressed up with gold accents, where the menu of small sharing plates builds around chilies that show up in every corner. The khao soi has its regulars, and the crispy rice with fermented pork sausage is the kind of thing people order twice.

Massimo Bottura's modern Italian restaurant sits inside The Moore, a hotel and private club in the Design District, and the room earns its keep before the food arrives, all natural light and color. The kitchen leans into South Florida with a cacio e pepe finished with candied Florida citrus zest, and the famous lemon tart gets a Key lime rewrite. Playful without being casual, and priced accordingly.

Red-checkered tablecloths and crimson walls set the tone at this old-school Bronx trattoria just off Arthur Avenue, where the name translates to "between us" and the room feels like it was designed to keep the secret. The chef runs the floor with the energy of someone who takes your dinner personally, and the night's menu lives on a blackboard. Cash-and-chianti regulars fill it early, so book ahead.

The stone fireplace out front sets the tone before you even walk in. This downtown Asheville neighborhood restaurant runs on smoke, moving through smoked meats, grilled skewers, sashimi, and dumplings in a rustic room built around an open kitchen and a big central bar. The cocktails lean into the theme, one arrives visibly clouded. A tasting menu handles the decisions if you'd rather the kitchen just take over.

You find it through an unmarked alley door, down into a basement, which is exactly the kind of entrance that makes people feel very pleased with themselves. Ukiyo is an omakase-style tasting restaurant with two seatings a night, the menu rooted in Japanese technique but pulling freely from Southeast Asian and Peruvian traditions. Nigiri runs from otoro with scallion to minced chicken with lemongrass, and dessert has featured uni ice cream over roasted apples.

The pasta is made in-house, and the menu reads like a tour of the Italian regions with a Sardinian leaning. This cozy trattoria on 28th Street is the kind of place where the aperitivo list gets taken seriously and the wood-fired dishes reflect a chef who grew up eating this way, not studying it. The room fills with people who know what they're ordering before they open the menu.

Dandelion-light fixtures float above concrete walls and horseshoe banquettes in this modern American restaurant, where the menu runs French in places without announcing it. The chef grew up with a connection to this Healdsburg building, which gives the whole thing a low-key personal charge. Expect polished, composed plates in a room that feels convivial rather than stiff, drawing the wine-country crowd that actually lives here, not just visits.

The flour tortillas are made in-house, and watching them come together at the counter is half the reason to show up early. This is a daytime tortilleria and counter-order burrito spot in Park Slope, from the team behind Corima. The tortillas are precise and pliable in a way that makes the whole thing feel different. Cinnamon rolls with cream cheese frosting and sea salt finish the job if you're still hungry, which you probably aren't.

Red velvet banquettes and dark wooden walls set the scene at this speakeasy-style Indian restaurant near Grand Central, where the menu sections have names like "swanky starters" and "jazzy breads" in case the decor leaves any doubt. Cocktails tip their hat to Prohibition-era gangsters, and Bollywood hits share the playlist with jazz. Contemporary Indian cooking fills the menu, from braised lamb with Kashmiri chilis to daal makhani done with genuine richness.

A tasting menu tucked into the back of a wine bar, which is either a charming origin story or a logistical surprise depending on how you find it. The chef draws on a Lower East Side upbringing and California foraging in equal measure, and the cooking threads those two worlds together with enough visual ambition that the plate sometimes outshines the bite. The ingredients are strong enough to hold it all up.

Pasta fills almost every table here, and that's not an accident. Vina Enoteca is an Italian restaurant with a bar tucked into a Palo Alto medical complex, which sounds uninspiring until you're inside the high-ceilinged, arch-lined room with soft leather chairs and a plate of house-made tagliatelle in front of you. The kitchen grows much of its produce at Stanford's farm down the road, and the pasta, pizza, and bread are all made in-house.

Wilder is the dining room of a farm hotel outside Loudon, where the garden is tended by a person with the title of head gardener, which tells you how seriously the tomatoes are taken. The room has a lodge feel, all warm wood and good manners, and the menu is garden-to-table American with a price tag to match. It's open to the public, so you can eat there without committing to a cottage. Michelin lists it as a Selected Restaurant.

Fried chicken so deeply embedded in New Orleans lore that the Seaton family has been running this Southern lunch counter since before most food writers were born. The downtown dining room is sunny and spacious, a long way from the original Treme spot, but the bird hasn't changed. Order the gumbo with shrimp and blue crab first, then stay focused. First-timers who wander into the rest of the menu do so at their own risk.

Hunan cooking gets less Bay Area attention than its Cantonese and Sichuan cousins, which makes this snug Millbrae restaurant worth knowing about. The heat here comes with smoke and funk, built from cured meats, fermented black beans, and pickled chilis rather than pure fire. Grab one of the carved booths in the back if you can, where you're close enough to the kitchen to feel invested. The Michelin Guide has had its eye on this place for a reason.

A busy Korean restaurant anchoring a Buford Highway strip mall corner, with a menu long enough to need its own table of contents. Glance at the neighboring tables and you'll notice most of them landed on the same thing: bibimbap in a stone bowl that keeps sizzling well after it arrives, crisped rice at the bottom doing its quiet work. It's casual, affordable, and listed in the Michelin Guide.

The glass-enclosed kitchen at the front is the first thing you notice, and if you can grab a table facing it, you'll watch the whole operation. This Sichuan spot in Chinatown is named for its signature dish, a fiery pickled fish with sour greens that comes in sizes running up to a platter for six. The wontons in chili oil are a foregone conclusion. A long list of cold sides fills out the table without much effort.

A converted house with white walls and dark wood tables, no sushi counter in sight, Yoichi's is a quiet kaiseki tasting room run by a husband-and-wife team. The chef trained at Nobu Tokyo, and the seven-course menu follows kaiseki tradition closely, built around seasonal ingredients and carefully sourced fish. The kind of place where service explains what you're eating without making you feel like a student.

Servers in hanbok and a warren of curtained private rooms signal that this isn't your average Koreatown Korean restaurant. Yong Su San specializes in royal court cuisine, the elaborate dishes once prepared for Korea's aristocracy, and the setting leans into that history with carved wooden seats and cushioned booths. Large groups tend to arrive for set menus, but the à la carte banchan spread alone makes an argument for a quieter table for two.

Live tanks of crab, lobster, and flounder line the back wall, which sets the tone for what this Cantonese dim sum house is doing differently from its strip-mall neighbors. Weekend mornings draw Chinese families through a wide rotation of steamed, baked, and fried dim sum, the dumplings carefully pleated and the barbecue pork buns doing their thing. Evenings shift toward the seafood tanks. The Michelin Guide has it selected.

Nine seats at a counter in Japantown, and the meal starts on time whether you're there or not. Yuji is a kappo counter, the less-ceremonial cousin to kaiseki, where a twelve-course progression moves through cold bites, pristine sashimi, and fried tilefish before landing on a bowl of steamed rice with pickled vegetables and miso. Matcha custard closes it out. The whole thing feels quieter and more personal than the format suggests.

A spacious, no-frills Chinese restaurant that pulls a crowd big enough to suggest most of Tampa is in on the secret. The menu swings wide, from orange chicken and salt-and-pepper calamari to clay pot-braised fish with a deeper, earthier pull. Lunch brings a separate dim sum menu with dumplings, turnip cakes, pineapple buns, and Hong Kong-style egg tarts, which is the move if you arrive before the dinner rush swells the room.

Cumin is in the name and in the air at this Fairfax District restaurant, where ikat fabrics drape the wood furnishings and the menu reads like a Silk Road itinerary. Zira Uzbek Kitchen serves the food of Uzbekistan, a cuisine that lands somewhere between Central Asian and Middle Eastern, with hand-pulled noodle soup, shashlik off the grill, and fat dumplings that regulars argue over. The Michelin Guide includes it among its selected restaurants in Los Angeles.

Heavy wooden doors and dark metal chandeliers set the tone at this upscale regional Mexican restaurant on Capitol Mall, where the sprawling patio is prime real estate on a warm Sacramento evening. The menu leans on freshness, with bright ceviches, tacos on house tortillas, and lively salsas across the board. The tequila list runs deep, though the mango fresco margarita with its tajín rim has its own loyal following.

Counter service, seat yourself, bus your own table: Zoe Ma Ma runs like a family kitchen that happened to open a door to Pearl Street. The chef behind the counter makes everything from scratch, and the Sichuan cooking leans homey rather than showy. Dan dan noodles are a constant, but the rotating daily specials are worth checking before you order. Prices are low enough that you'll probably order one more thing just because you can.

This is a lively coastal Italian restaurant on the Strip that clearly wants you to leave without needing a nap. The kitchen keeps things light and bright, so the casarecce arrives in garlicky tomato sauce with a Calabrian chile kick, and the Roman-style pizzas have a crisp, airy crust. The beet salad draws second helpings, and the limoncello spritzes help you pretend you're somewhere near an actual coast.

Palate is a sit-down restaurant where velvet chairs and chandeliers the size of small cars make the dining room look like a fantasy ballroom. The menu runs on Southern comfort food that wanders off in several directions, and the cocktails arrive with props, including one served beside steel wool that gets set on fire. Swan Dive is upstairs, so dinner here doubles as a warm-up act.

Sylvia's is a relaxed, family-run Mexican restaurant on Woodway where the menu is basically one long argument about enchiladas, each named after a city in Mexico or Texas. They come under chili gravy, mole, or salsa verde, and the servers will happily bend the menu around you. The mini sampler lets you try several before committing, which is how regulars settled on their favorite. It was a James Beard semifinalist, Best Chef: Texas.

The xiao long bao are made in-house, and you can watch through the glass as the pleating happens at speed. This is the New York outpost of the global dumpling chain, set in a large underground room near Times Square that runs loud and packed most hours of the day. The New York Times gave it a star in 2024, which did nothing to shorten the line. Expect a menu of soup dumplings in various fillings, a youthful crowd, and prices that won't require a moment of hesitation.

A bleached cow skull in the parking lot tells you everything about Gerardo's Drive In, a weekend-only taqueria and meat market on the Northside that's been steaming barbacoa since the late '70s. You can sit down to a few tacos, buy meat by the pound, or take home an entire cow's head, which is a very specific kind of leftovers. It's casual, cheap, and made for people who plan their Saturdays around lunch.

Laredo Taqueria is a no-frills counter-service taco spot where the steam table does the talking and the flour tortillas do the heavy lifting. Expect a line, and expect the regulars ahead of you to know their order cold, so use the wait to study the breakfast and lunch options. Ordering on corn is permitted, but you'll be skipping the thing that holds every breakfast taco here together. Cash-in-pocket prices, work-boots-to-business-casual crowd.

Moon Doggies is a sports bar where the kitchen keeps going long after the game has been decided, which suits both the celebrating and the consoling. The wings get fried, then tossed in a wok with teriyaki until they turn sticky, sweet, and a little charred at the edges. Thick-crust pizza with honey balsamic is the backup plan for anyone still hungry after the napkins run out.

You'll spot it by the squat brick house with Christmas lights that never come down and lace curtains that predate everyone's memory. Inside it's a casual red-sauce Italian joint with checkered tablecloths and a brick fireplace, where the portions arrive in casserole dishes and the lasagna comes buried in marinara. Grab any table you like, since nobody's fighting you for it, and expect to leave carrying leftovers.

CrunCheese is a corn dog counter in Chinatown's Shanghai Plaza, where the Korean street-food version comes battered, rolled in crunchy potato cubes, and fried until it looks like it has armor. Sausage, mozzarella, or half of each, then sugar and a sauce lineup that takes the whole thing past reasonable. It's a few dollars and made to be eaten with one hand while you browse the shops, and a second one tends to happen.

Nashville-style hot chicken counter inside the Venetian's Via Via food hall, where the queue alone tells you something is happening. The LA original has a cult following, and the Vegas outpost brings the same obsessive consistency: fiery chicken sandwiches dressed with coleslaw, comeback sauce, and pickles, with heat levels running from no-heat "country" to "Howlin'," which the menu might as well label "your problem now." Grab the banana pudding as a chaser.

A casual Vietnamese noodle shop on Spring Mountain Road that does its best work after the casinos have taken everything you brought. At 3am the room splits between people refusing to end the night and industry workers who just ended theirs. The spicy beef phở comes with a plate of jalapeños and limes, and the steam off the bowl is thick enough to cloud your glasses, which at that hour is a mercy.

Bistro Monadnock is a wood-paneled French bistro on a quiet side street near the Art Institute, which makes it a natural place to go after a morning of looking at French things and deciding you'd like to eat some. There's an open kitchen, a bar, and booths that rarely require a plan. Your server may volunteer a tour of the dry-ager or a short lecture on the building, and it's wise to let them.

The dining room is painted in every color someone could fit on a wall, which turns out to be solid preparation for the menu that follows. This Sinaloan seafood restaurant in Phoenix runs a multi-page spread of aguachiles, whole fried fish, grilled shrimp Micheladas, and molcajetes loaded with carne asada alongside whatever came out of the ocean. A serrano margarita handles the heat. Families book out the patio on weekends, so call ahead if you're bringing a crowd.

The tortas here are the size of a small architectural project, stacked high on soft telera rolls with combinations like fried beef, ham, egg, chorizo, and avocado all grilled together. This casual Mexican sandwich shop in Sunnyslope sprawls through several rooms, and the menu takes real time to navigate. The juice bar deserves equal attention, especially the agua cremosa, a condensed milk and fresh fruit drink that arrives under a paper umbrella, which feels right.

This is the dressier sibling of Esther's Kitchen, an upscale Italian restaurant in Tivoli Village where the focaccia arrives with roasted garlic and a plan to keep you from ordering anything else. The dough carries over to the pizzas, and the meatballs come with a square of crunchy polenta built for chasing sauce. Early evenings at the bar are busy, and patio tables overlook a fountain, which is as close to Rome as Rampart Boulevard gets.

BB's is a casual Cajun and Creole spot on Westheimer that keeps the kitchen going until 3 a.m. most nights and 4 a.m. on weekends, which tells you who its customers are. The menu splits the difference between New Orleans and Texas, with po'boys, fried seafood platters, and a seafood boil that arrives with enough vegetables to feel responsible about it. Daiquiris are the fuel. Wear whatever survived the evening.

A giant chalkboard covered in Georgian script greets you at this University Avenue restaurant, with a handy illustrated wine chart and a declaration at the bottom that translates to "We love our guests." Khinkali dumplings filled with savory broth and lamb share the menu with khachapuri, the classic cheese and egg bread. It doubles as a low-key primer on a cuisine most tables know nothing about when they sit down.

The jerk chicken here shares DNA with Back A Yard, the fast-casual chain from the same restaurateur, but Coconuts wraps it in full table service and a proper rum bar. The Caribbean cooking is straightforward and confident: oxtail braised until the meat gives up completely, chicken slathered in allspice-forward seasoning. The room is colorful in the literal sense, which on a gray Peninsula afternoon feels less like a design choice and more like a public service.

This is a casino coffee shop at the South Point, the kind of 24-hour diner where the real menu starts after midnight. The graveyard specials are the draw: a shrimp cocktail for under three dollars, or a small steak with eggs, hash browns, and toast for around seven. Convention badges and rodeo hats share the booths at 2am, and you walk out full and still under fifteen bucks, which in Vegas is practically a clerical error.

The dining room runs quietly enough that you can hear the sommelier think, which is exactly the point at this fine dining institution that has been feeding San Jose's special-occasion crowd forever. European tasting menus anchor the experience, running through seafood and onto things like pheasant or venison, with a shorter prix fixe for the commitment-averse. The staff is warm without being performative about it.

This is a sit-down Tex-Mex restaurant in an old adobe building on Main Street, the original of Houston's three Spanish Flowers. The bar is covered in river rocks and the courtyard is lined with concrete pillars, so it feels like a Mexico City from a few decades back. Shrimp fajitas with Gulf shrimp and fresh tortillas are the draw, and enchiladas arrive under melty cheese and a dark, spicy gravy. Casual, no dress code required.

Starboard Tack is a diner-meets-tiki-bar a short drive off the Strip, where patterned booth fabric your grandmother would approve of sits beneath a stained-glass underwater scene. The rum list is one of the bigger ones in town, the menu leans Filipino and Korean, and an indie or punk show may be winding down while you finish your kimchi fried rice. Eater and The Infatuation both list it among Vegas's best late-night spots.

Texas Chili Parlor is a dark, cheap dive bar that happens to serve chili, with a Tex-Mex menu stapled to the side. Enchiladas arrive buried under a scoop of Texas-style chili, which is its own kind of confidence. The Mad Dog margarita is as strong as the name suggests, and a few barstool regulars look like they came with the building. Downtown workers pop in at lunch, then go back to their desks, mostly.