The Best Seafood in the United States

Roosevelt Row gets a proper grown-up restaurant in Pretty Penny, where every table starts with a complimentary pour of bubbles and the kitchen sends out housemade pastas, bold proteins, and an octopus tostada that earned a spot on Phoenix Magazine's top dishes list. The forest-green room is sleek without being stiff, and the bar program holds its own, landing in the Spirited Awards' regional top ten for best new cocktail bar.

A roadside farmstand with a raw bar is either a great idea or a very convincing fever dream, and Sweet Amalia is the former. The oysters come from the team's own aquaculture operation in the Delaware Bay, and the weekly menu pivots around whatever the chef finds interesting: falafel over cucumbers, grilled eggplant with peperonata, a BLT stacked with heirlooms. You order at the counter and eat outside at picnic tables. The New York Times put it on their Restaurant List.

The pan con minuta is a whole gutted fried snapper tucked into a Cuban roll, tail hanging out, more fish than bread can reasonably hold. This Little Havana seafood counter has been around forever, and the logic is simple: everything comes out of the fryer to order, which is the whole secret. A retail fish case up front means the hogfish you're eyeing is the same one ending up on your plate.

The dining room holds enough live-seafood tanks that you half expect a guided tour, but R&G Lounge is a Chinatown banquet-style restaurant where the point is the occasion. Dungeness crab fried in salt and pepper, black cod baked to the texture of soft butter, geoduck sliced thin for sashimi. The seafood swims until you order it, which settles the freshness question before it's even asked.

Stone crab claws, boiled and chilled, served with a mustard sauce that people have been arguing about since Miami Beach was accessible only by ferry. Joe's is an old-school institution, a crab shop so embedded in the city's identity that celebrities, politicians, and regulars all wait in the same line. The dedicated parking lot across the street tells you everything about how long that wait can get. Save room for the key lime pie.

The patio at this fine dining seafood restaurant inside the Hotel del Coronado looks out over manicured grounds to the Pacific, with an outdoor fireplace taking over once the sun disappears. The menu leans heavily on raw shellfish and fresh whole fish, priced accordingly, so budget-conscious pescatarians may want to look away. Book early; the wedding circuit has discovered this view too.

A Modelo in a champagne chiller tells you everything about the vibe here. From the team behind Taco Boys, this seafood restaurant on North 7th is the dressed-up counterpoint to a casual taqueria, built for date night rather than a paper-plate lunch. The menu runs from a cold bar and ceviches to tacos and things grilled over mesquite charcoal, and the molcajete arrives with shrimp and octopus in hot or cold form.

The strip mall on Turkey Lake Road does nothing to prepare you for the room inside, which runs to chandeliers and private dining spaces with the full sweep of a Cantonese seafood clubhouse. Dim sum arrives made to order rather than off a cart, so everything lands hot. The selection runs deep, from siu mai and egg tarts to sticky pork dumplings with a crispy, mochi-soft interior. The Michelin Guide has taken notice, and the move is to come with a crowd and keep ordering.

The cobblestoned streets of Fells Point lead you to this seafood restaurant and raw bar, where local oysters share the menu with a lobster roll on a warm, buttered bun. The vibe skews more New England than Chesapeake, though the orange crush keeps it honest. Waits are part of the deal, so ask about the back patio and let the neighborhood do its thing while you hold out.

East and Gulf Coast oysters anchor the raw bar at this Knox Street seafood restaurant and oyster bar, where the menu runs from smoked whitefish dip and beef tartare through whole grilled branzino and chilled lobster rolls. The drinks are notably un-afterthought. A double cheeseburger quietly holds down the menu for anyone dragged in by a shellfish-obsessed friend, which is a gracious thing to offer.

The chalkboard specials change often enough that regulars check it before sitting down, which tells you most of what you need to know about Alewife. It's a modern seafood restaurant in Church Hill with a sustainable-catch ethos and cocktails that earn their own moment. Groups of four tend to anchor the table around the Siren Song, a lazy Susan of fresh catches built for sharing. Reservations are the move; this place stays busy.

Pork and duck puffs shaped like little black swans are the opening move at this upscale dim sum house inside Ghirardelli Square, where the room earns its own attention with colored lanterns, tiled murals, and candle tea warmers. Classics come with upgrades: lobster where shrimp usually goes, squid ink in the fried rice. The bay-facing patio fills up fast on Sunday mornings with people who planned ahead, and a few who got lucky.

Ford Fry's seafood restaurant exists as a quiet rebuke to Atlanta's landlocked reality. The room has the feel of an oyster bar and a classic fish house that figured out how to share a cool loft, and the kitchen leans into both, running whole roasted shrimp alongside delicate flounder dressed in lobster butter. Parker House rolls arrive hot, and the menu wanders just enough to keep things interesting.

The chef sources so locally he's reportedly knocked on strangers' doors to ask about their gardens, and his mom's plot is in regular rotation. The result is a Northwest New American restaurant on Alki Beach where essentially everything on the plate comes from Washington state, no California citrus allowed. The bar runs the same way and is worth the trip on its own, and the desserts have drawn their own devoted following.

Nautical decor that stops short of kitsch anchors this seafood restaurant on the Southwest waterfront, where the patio looks straight out over the marina. The menu pulls from Chesapeake waters and a D.C. urban fish farm, so northern puffer fish arrives whole and crispy fried, and a Maryland crab crumpet nods to the place's Scottish sister spot. Save room for the Virginia peanut tiramisu, which sounds like a dare and tastes like a good idea.

Both the bartender and the chef are named Hugo, which tells you something about this cocktail bar and seafood spot in Bishop Arts. The cocktail program gets the same obsessive treatment as the kitchen, where oysters and small plates keep people settled at the bar longer than they planned. Someone here is pureeing salted plantains for a rum cocktail reduction, and that level of commitment runs through all dozen house cocktails.

Hemenway's is a seafood grill on South Main Street that recently shook off its stuffy streak and went back to the flash of its 1985 roots. The menu runs from raw bar towers and local crudo to caviar-topped waffles and stuffed lobster. It's a dress-nicely, bring-a-card sort of dinner, though the bar works fine for oysters and a glass of albariño. AAA gives it three diamonds, if you need to tell the parents.

Coastal Italian seafood in Milwaukee Junction, with exposed ceilings, soft lighting, and a ground-level view of Grand Boulevard setting the mood. The chef honed his craft at a two-Michelin-starred New York kitchen before coming home to the Great Lakes, and the menu shows it: raw oysters, salt-baked branzino, ink-dark lumache with crab and shrimp. Downstairs, a cozy bar called the Upright handles cocktails and small plates for those not committed to a full sit-down.

The oysters come straight from Hog Island's Tomales Bay farm, and that short supply chain shows in every platter. This easygoing seafood counter in the Ferry Building draws lines of locals and tourists alike for sweet, cold bivalves with all the classic accompaniments, plus Manila clam chowder and a hearty seafood stew. The Bay views from the patio don't hurt. Go early or go patient.

Cupcake-pink walls and white trim set the tone at this breezy seafood bar in the King William District, where a tree-shaded patio deck effectively doubles the place on a warm afternoon. The menu revolves around a rotating oyster selection and moves into fish tacos, lobster rolls, and the kind of bright, light seafood that pairs well with a glass of rosé and nowhere particular to be.

The menu at this resort seafood restaurant runs long enough that the staff are trained to talk you off the ledge, and they do it graciously. Octopus and venison share billing with the catch, which tells you the kitchen isn't playing a strict concept. The room has the warm, unhurried feel of a place where no one is in a hurry to turn the table, and the wine list matches the menu's ambition.

Two outdoor terraces hang over Lake Norman, which means half the dining room has a view that does most of the menu's heavy lifting. Hello Sailor is a laid-back lakeside seafood spot where PEI mussels and oysters with a glass of wine feel like the obvious move, though the wood-burning stove inside makes winter less of a sacrifice than it sounds. A Michelin Selected pick, it's the kind of neighborhood place that works for basically every occasion without trying too hard.

The shucker behind the raw bar is working through a daily haul from North Carolina and beyond, which tells you everything about where the priorities lie. St. Roch is an oyster bar and bistro in a converted downtown clothing store, with Louisiana roots informing the menu: barbecue shrimp and grits on weekends, beignets to close. A Michelin Selected restaurant, and a James Beard semifinalist.

A seafood osteria on Sixth Avenue that also happens to be a caffè, bakery, pasta lab, and gelateria, which could easily be a mess but somehow feels like a well-run corner of northern Italy. The kitchen leans on pristine fish and vegetables, with a nod toward Japanese technique that earns its place rather than announcing itself. Raw preparations are a reason to linger, and the wine list keeps markups reasonable. Ranked 34th on 50 Top Italy's list of Italian restaurants worldwide.

A seafood buffet at the Palms, where locals drive off the Strip and the real event is Wednesday and Thursday lobster nights. Stations stack up with bright red tails, and you work through them with melted butter and a bucket for the wreckage. Dinner runs a bit north of forty dollars, so wear something that forgives butter, and plan the rest of your day around it like a sensible person.

Some regulars skip the menu entirely and head straight to the back, where the day's fish and crustaceans are laid out on packed ice like a very glamorous geology exhibit. This is a high-end Greek seafood restaurant on South Beach, the kind where whole grilled fish and lobster anchor the table and the room skews toward people who own boats. Fresh seafood arrives multiple times a week, and the kitchen largely gets out of its own way.

A glass-fronted restaurant in Coconut Grove that shares its building with a dinner concept downstairs, Krüs Kitchen operates upstairs with its own kitchen, a retail corner, and a sunny room that feels more market than dining room. The menu chases small-farm produce and organic wines, with seafood showing up often. A percentage of every sale goes to the team's nonprofit, so the prawns are doing community service.

Squeezed into a narrow Clinton Street storefront, Saint Julivert is a coastal wine bar where seafood does most of the talking and the small-producer wine list does the listening. The kitchen runs on a coastal imagination that drifts from tempura squash to Ibérico pork without losing the thread. Cobble Hill regulars who know to book early fill the room most nights. The Michelin Guide has it on their list.

A seafood shack on Interbay Boulevard that could pass for a bait shop if you weren't paying attention. You order at the counter, pick a menu off the board, and settle into a picnic table under a tent. The fried grouper sandwich is the house classic, but the lobster tail corn dog beside a pile of fries suggests someone is having more fun back there than the surroundings imply. Finish with the key lime pie and feel no guilt about it.

Part fish market, part seafood restaurant, BlackSalt sits in a quiet MacArthur Boulevard corner and does more with both halves than most places do with one. The menu pulls from coasts and continents without losing focus, and the shellfish in particular tends to stop conversation. A Provençal stew arrives fragrant with saffron and stocked with whatever the market yielded that morning. The key lime pie, finished with blueberry compote and whipped cream, is a genuinely strange idea that works.

A glass wall full of marina boats sets the scene at this upscale Marina del Rey seafood restaurant, where the spirit is old-school Continental with a heavy hand on the flourishes. Caviar shows up regularly, the tableside shrimp Louie is sized for the table, and nobody seems to mind. The room leans into the celebration, and the cocktail menu asks you to pick your Jane, Jetson, Goodall, or Austen.

A raw bar lines the front of this chic seafood Mexican spot on the Upper West Side, signaling that walk-ins and solo diners are part of the plan. The menu leans marisquería, meaning the starters section deserves your full attention before anything else. The lively bar does cocktails and zero-proof drinks equally well, and the crowd tends to be locals who already know to book ahead, or didn't bother and headed straight for a stool.

Fawn builds its identity around amaro, with a selection deep enough to suggest the staff has opinions about bitterness profiles. It's a seafood wine bar in downtown Decatur where you can drop in for crudos and a glass or commit to a tasting menu that leans into dry-aged fish, fermented everything, and combinations that sound strange until they don't. The Michelin Guide has it listed as a Selected Restaurant.

A terrace right on the Potomac makes the room hard to argue with, and regulars who know this book outside before anyone else gets the idea. This is an upscale Italian seafood restaurant where the kitchen takes raw ingredient quality seriously and the service runs like a tight ship. Lunch keeps the bill from getting too philosophical. Chef Matteo Limoli turns out dishes like a liquid cacio e pepe that has no business working as well as it does.

A raw bar seafood spot a short walk from the actual ocean, which feels right. Inside it's sunny, a little loud, and decorated like someone who actually likes the beach rather than someone staging it. Half the menu is oysters, clams, and lobster, and the staff will talk you through it without making you feel slow. The cooking keeps things clean and confident, letting good fish be good fish.

White linen on dark polished wood, a mounted swordfish on the wall, and a bar that fills up fast, Hugo's is a big, old-school Chicago seafood house that has never felt the need to be subtle about any of it. Stone crab claws, oysters, crab cakes, frog's legs, and a few steaks for the holdouts keep things honest. The family-style sides arrive in quantities that assume you came hungry, and the Muddy Bottom Pie requires friends.

The chewy, seafood-studded rice noodles are a reason to organize a group dinner in San Gabriel, which is exactly how this Southeast Asian seafood restaurant operates best. Chinese, Thai, Cambodian, and Vietnamese cooking styles all converge on one very long menu, and the servers genuinely steer you away from decision paralysis. Salt and pepper crab is the move, but the beef loc lac quietly earns its table space too. Selected by the Michelin Guide.

The raw bar and sushi counter crown the back of the room, which tells you where things are headed before you've sat down. This is polished, seafood-forward fine dining on Park Avenue South, where the sourcing swings local and global and the preparations range from ceviche and towering platters to Japanese-inflected entrées. The Alaskan black cod with sake glaze and yuzu dashi is the kitchen at its most assured. Dress up a little.

A white farmhouse with actual working fields out the window sets the scene at this North Salem seafood restaurant, where "farm to table" includes a smokehouse, a curing room, and a farm shop next door. The kitchen grows and preserves much of what it serves, down to the hot sauce and the carrot bread. Cocktails lean into the gardens too. A Michelin Selected restaurant that earns the pastoral postcard without winking at it.

Wide plank wood floors and exposed ductwork set the tone at this New American restaurant on Ojai's main strip, where the vibe splits the difference between farmhouse warmth and downtown cool. The menu drifts from a raw bar to local produce to a natural wine list, with a provisions counter up front for good measure. Simple dishes tend to surprise, and the kitchen handles a brothy clam stew with the kind of quiet confidence that doesn't need announcing.

The building has been around since the 1800s, though you'd hardly know it from the freshened interiors, where wallpapered walls and white tablecloths share space with carefully chosen art across three distinct dining rooms. It's a full-service seafood restaurant in a quiet Louisiana town, the kind that leans hard into Gulf catches and Creole sauces. The bread pudding with blueberry compote and bourbon white chocolate sauce is the kind of ending that makes you glad you stayed for dessert.

A long marble oyster bar fronts this seafood spot on the edge of the French Quarter, with a white leather banquette running the length of the room for casual bites and cocktails. The tasting menu lives in the back club room, where local sourcing gets a polished, confident treatment. The Champagne list runs deep, and the couple running it keep things intimate, so expect to dress like you meant it.

A historic Broad Street address houses this seafood restaurant where the menu shifts constantly to follow whatever's freshest, so the printed card is more of a suggestion than a promise. The kitchen leans into sustainable sourcing without making you feel like you're attending a lecture about it. A few anchors hold the menu steady, but the surrounding dishes move with the tides, which is either refreshing or maddening depending on how you feel about decisions.

The dining room hangs right over the Santa Monica Pier, close enough to the water that the views do most of the decorating. This is a proper sit-down seafood restaurant, Maine lobster at the center of the menu, crab cakes and the rest fanning out from there. Tables are close together and the pace moves, but the steamed lobster arrives in good enough shape to make the butter beside it feel optional.

A pie-only dessert menu handled by a dedicated pastry chef is either a bold statement or a confession, and at The Pearl it reads as both. This Channelside seafood spot fills out a mixed-use building with a big, shareable American menu, raw and fried oysters, seafood towers, and fish and chips for when you're feeling sensible. The room mixes contemporary with maritime nostalgia, and the outdoor patio gets well-used in Tampa's approximately eleven months of decent weather.

Perched right on the edge of Tomales Bay, this casual oyster bar and seafood spot is owned by Hog Island Oyster Co., which means the bivalves on your tray were probably in the water very recently. Freshly shucked oysters are the move, though grilled versions in garlic butter or smoky barbecue sauce give the purists something to argue about. Weekends fill fast, so a reservation beats showing up hopeful after the scenic drive up the coast.

Warm tones, natural wood, and golden lighting make this Inner Sunset bistro feel like someone's very stylish living room, if that living room happened to serve buckwheat crepes and surf-and-turf crudo. The menu runs French but without the rulebook, leaning seasonal and local in a way that keeps things genuinely interesting visit to visit. Sharing plates reward a table of friends, and brunch draws the neighborhood in reliably.

This is a counter-seat oyster bar inside a Palace Station casino that never closes, which means a pan roast at 4am is a reasonable thing to want. The cooks work a maze of steam and running water a few feet from your stool, performing the whole thing for people who are mostly just hungry. Order the oysters first, then stir rice into the tomato broth, a move the regulars figured out long before you did.

Seafood flown in daily from both coasts and the Sea of Cortez keeps this polished seafood restaurant on Camelback Road from feeling like a landlocked afterthought. The dining room leans comfortable and upscale, the kind of place where booths fill with date-night couples while the bar handles happy hour with enough seriousness to earn a Best Happy Hour nod from Phoenix New Times. The cocktail list gets the same care as the fish.

A seafood counter tucked inside Fair Isle Brewing, La Marea brings Mexican coastal cooking to a city that usually prefers its seafood left alone. Hamachi and tuna arrive over tostadas, sliced with a precision that suggests sushi somewhere in the team's past. The scallop aguachile and chile morita aioli do not shy from heat. The brewery's farmhouse ales and saisons make good company, and the shared space keeps the whole thing loose.

State of Grace is a polished American seafood restaurant on Westheimer, plated for the River Oaks lunch-and-dinner set. A bright side room puts the raw bar front and center, so you can watch someone shuck oysters while deciding how many dozen is socially acceptable. The chef grew up across the street at the high school, which makes this one of the few homecomings that comes with a wine list. Dress like you meant it.

Oysters on Pearl Street, which is the kind of sentence that shouldn't work in a landlocked mountain state but here we are. Jax is a lively seafood restaurant that has been feeding Boulderites raw bars and sustainably caught fish for decades, banking on Denver International's role as a coastal shipping hub. Come for the oysters, raw, grilled, or fried, and stay for whatever the kitchen has pulled in that week.

Johnny Spero, who earned a Michelin star at his D.C. restaurant Reverie, traded the capital for Whidbey Island and opened this intimate seafood tasting menu spot on the water. The menu shifts constantly but keeps pulling from the cold Pacific just outside, and the New York Times named it to their 2026 Restaurant List. After dinner, whales occasionally cruise through Saratoga Passage, which is either a coincidence or very good branding.

A turquoise mariscos truck parked in a strip-mall lot, doing Mazatlán-style seafood with chiltepin chiles as the house religion. The chiltepin is tiny, round, and hits with a fast, focused heat that bypasses polite warning entirely. Everything is raw and marinated to order, so the aguachiles arrive electric with lime and pepper. Outdoor communal tables come stocked with tostadas and a crate of bottled hot sauces for anyone negotiating their limits.

A 40-seat lodge restaurant on the Yakima River where the chef, a serious fisherman, is back cooking every service after closing a small fleet of Seattle spots during the pandemic. The patio looks straight up at dusty cliffs dropping to the water, and seafood is the move despite the catch-and-release river out back. Fly-fishing art on the china, hush puppies on the menu, and a neighbor who runs guided casts next door.

The sidewinder fries alone explain a lot about this casual coastal restaurant in Pacific Beach, where smashburgers and clam chowder come out with the kind of care you'd expect somewhere far more serious. The seafood traces back to the nearby Quinault Indian Nation, cocktails are good, and the kids menu is apparently a hit with people who eat off the kids menu.

A seafood truck parked at a gas station on Alum Rock, and the San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's top Mexican and seafood spots. The heat runs twelve levels deep, and the team quietly suggests you stop at three. There's no menu, just a base of shrimp that grows as you add octopus, scallops, and sea snails. The aguachile will make your eyes water in a way that somehow doesn't make you stop eating it.

Cash only, no website, a line down Polk Street, and they open at eight in the morning if you'd rather eat crab than sleep. Swan is an old-school seafood counter, marble-topped and tight on stools, where the Dungeness arrives cracked and the raw bar runs to sea urchin when they have it. The noise is mostly shells and sourdough. San Francisco Chronicle calls it a classic for a reason, but the line will convince you faster.

The snap and sizzle of turmeric-stained fish on tabletop grills greets you the moment you walk into this bustling Vietnamese restaurant. The chả cá is the move: thick fillets over dill and scallions, smoky from the grill, served with rice paper and fixings for a roll-your-own situation at the table. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's top Vietnamese spots, and the room full of families who never need a menu makes the case quietly but firmly.

The fish is in there somewhere, buried under a brick-red avalanche of dried chiles you have to ladle aside to find it. This Chinatown Sichuan restaurant is famous for that má-là one-two punch, the numbing tingle of peppercorns chasing the heat of the peppers, and the hour-long wait out front suggests the neighborhood has opinions about it. When Dungeness crab is in season, it arrives stir-fried with salted egg yolk.

The shrimp salad with avocado and grapefruit supremes has been on the menu since the Carter administration, and it still draws a crowd. This old-school seafood restaurant near Davies Symphony Hall has been serving the pre-concert set since forever, with sustainable fish prepared simply and without ceremony. Curtain times mean the kitchen moves, so you can eat well and still make it to your seat.

The chef grows his own peppers for the ceviche, which tells you something about how seriously this Rockridge Peruvian restaurant takes its headlining dish. Each one arrives layered with fried corn, seaweed, and fish that's been marinated into something vivid and fiery. The chicharron and shrimp chupe hold their own as follow-ups, and the sake pisco sour is a quiet argument for rethinking a classic. Snug room, wood accents, a small parklet outside.

The paper butter cover stamped with a cursive "S" tells you everything about Sam's Grill, a classic San Francisco seafood grill that has been around forever. Rows of coat hooks line the walls from an era when men wore hats, and the curtained back booths suggest generations of cioppino-fueled lunch intrigue. Tuxedoed servers deliver oysters Rockefeller to regulars who never need the menu. Weekday lunch is the move; dinner is largely theoretical.

A family-run crab shop on the Bodega Bay waterfront where the fishermen and the kitchen are basically the same people. Order a crab sandwich or a cup of clam chowder, then take it to the cliffs overlooking the bay, where the wind and the smell of seawater do the rest of the work. Whole cooked crabs to go, too. The San Francisco Chronicle has named it among the best seafood spots in the Bay Area.

Hog Island Oyster Company farms its oysters right here on Tomales Bay, which is about as close to the source as you can get without wading in. The retail counter sells those oysters alongside condiments and picnic supplies, so most people just load up and find a spot along the coast. The reservation-only oyster bar adds grilled preparations and small plates for those who'd rather sit. Marine biologists founded it, which explains why the conservation ethos feels less like marketing.

The facade is papered with photos of the original owner posing with Jackie Chan, Emeril Lagasse, and Jacques Pépin, which tells you most of what you need to know. This old-school Hong Kong seafood spot in Chinatown has been around forever and draws a late-night crowd that arrives hungry and slightly chaotic. The wok runs hot, the garlic-fried prawns arrive crunchy to the heads, and the salt-and-pepper calamari is what you order when the evening needs a proper ending.

Perched on the causeway into Nags Head, this family-run seafood restaurant has been sourcing sustainably long before the menus started bragging about it. One of the family still catches some of what ends up on your plate, and if you spent the day fishing yourself, bring the haul in and the kitchen will clean and cook it. The ospreys nesting outside have names. Order the crab cakes, watch the sunset, and consider the day handled.

Part seafood counter, part fish market, Billingsgate sits in Noe Valley doing two things quietly well. The poke draws the most attention, ahi tuna kept minimal with soy and chile flakes, best ordered alongside sushi rice, seaweed, and avocado. The Spanish tomato toast is worth the detour too, anchovies and jamón ibérico on crisped bread that arrives already a little aggressive and rewards collapsing into a sandwich.

Bluewater Grill is a seafood restaurant with a breezy terrace and a sourcing philosophy that means the fish has a better paper trail than most of the clientele. Lunch starts at noon, with midday specials like fish tacos, a crab BLT on sourdough, and a grilled fish sandwich. The menu also stretches to sushi, burgers, and salads, so the one person who orders a salad at a seafood place has a place to hide. Eater picked it for lunch in San Diego.

A former pop-up that found a permanent home inside Au Lounge in downtown Oakland, Chef Smelly's draws on Creole family recipes to put out Cajun-spiced seafood and soul food. Garlicky Dungeness crab and blackened shrimp anchor the menu, and the platters run large enough to qualify as a commitment. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's top seafood spots. Dress accordingly: this is crab-cracking, garlic-breath, no-apologies territory.

Seafood restaurant, sushi bar, steakhouse, and pizza joint all share one menu here, which sounds like a dare but somehow holds together. Nick Saban used to bring recruits, so the room has seen its share of high-stakes small talk over gumbo. The sushi program is serious enough that the chef has a following of her own. A good place to bring someone you're trying to impress, whether or not you're offering a scholarship.

Right on Maine Wharf in the Old Port, this two-story seafood restaurant occupies a renovated 1920s building that still has nautical maps on the walls and a faint whiff of Ye Olde New England charm. The kitchen takes old-school coastal staples and quietly dismantles them, running a raw bar alongside ceviches and preparations that would confuse anyone expecting a paper basket of fried clams. Condé Nast Traveler named it among Portland's fifteen best restaurants.

El Pescador is a working fish market in La Jolla that also happens to cook lunch, so you can order grilled fish at the counter and then eye the display case for tonight's dinner. Regulars treat it like a weekly errand, which is a reasonable way to live near the ocean. The fish goes between bread, onto a plate with rice, or into poke and chowder, all of it casual, fast, and easy on the wallet.