The Best Spanish Food in the United States

A rainbow bull's head salvaged from the original location watches over the 14-seat counter like a totem, and that detail tells you everything about the mood here. Somni is a Spanish creative tasting menu in a converted bungalow just off Santa Monica, with three Michelin stars and a courtyard that feels like it was designed inside a dream. The chef trained at El Bulli, and the cooking lands accordingly: intricate, theatrical, and dead serious about having fun.

A curved counter wrapping a stainless-steel workspace is where dinner happens at José Andrés's avant-garde tasting room, a two Michelin star, AAA Five Diamond operation that takes the small-bites format seriously enough to earn the credentials. Nothing on the menu looks like what it turns out to be, which is either thrilling or unsettling depending on your relationship with surprise. Sharply suited servers keep the whole production moving with warmth rather than ceremony.

A wood-fired hearth and a smoker do the heavy lifting in this fine dining room on the third floor of a Glover Park townhouse, where chef Danny Lledó builds a tasting menu around the food of Valencia. Rice cooked over the open fire is the gravitational center of the meal. The room holds only a handful of tables, and after dinner guests move to the lounge for coffee. It holds a Michelin star and AAA Five Diamonds.

A 1920s white stucco bungalow off Richmond Avenue, hung with Picasso owl jugs from the owner's private collection, is doing some of the more serious Spanish cooking in Houston. This is fine dining, so dress accordingly. The chef handles both seafood and roasted meats with the kind of confidence that makes everything feel inevitable rather than effortful. An all-Spanish wine list and a dedicated gin and tonic section round out the room. It holds a Michelin star.

A tapas spot tucked into the ground floor of an East Nashville apartment building, Peninsula is the kind of place that makes you feel slightly smug for knowing about it. The cooking roams the Iberian Peninsula while borrowing freely from wherever else it pleases, landing in combinations that sound odd and taste inevitable. The chef took a James Beard Award for Best Chef: Southeast, and the Michelin Guide lists it as a Bib Gourmand.

A private counter tucked inside Jaleo on the Cosmopolitan's third floor, this is José Andrés's stage for a Spanish contemporary tasting menu where a "PB&J" arrives as foie gras mousse in meringue bread, and a prawn comes with olive spheres and mandarin snow. The Michelin-starred room seats very few, the kitchen is your entertainment, and the whole thing reads less like dinner than a very good magic show that happens to leave you full.

The kitchen butchers whole animals in-house, which tells you something about how seriously this compact Spanish tapas bar on Irving Place takes its sourcing. Dishes arrive in a sensible order, not all at once, and they're sized to actually eat rather than admire. A Michelin star and a New York Times top-100 nod haven't made it precious. Order widely, resist keeping track, and plan to wish everything were slightly larger.

Chef Jose Salazar's tapas bar runs on small plates and a staff that functions more as a personal concierge than a waitstaff, pacing courses, pairing wines, and gently talking you into things you didn't know you wanted. The Spanish and Latin American menu moves through blistered peppers and embutidos before landing on a paella that's the exception to the small-plates rule. A James Beard nominee, and the kind of room that feels like the party started without you but will absolutely let you in.

Shelves stocked with wine and imported pantry goods line the walls of this small Spring Street tapas bar, which holds a Michelin star without looking remotely like it's trying. The Spanish menu stays simple on purpose, leaning on precision over performance. The all-Spanish wine list is genuinely interesting, and the room has the settled, lived-in feel of somewhere that's been confident for a long time.

A glass of manzanilla arrives before you've quite settled in, which tells you everything about the pace here. Toro is a Spanish tapas bar that's been a South End fixture forever, and the room earns its noise, with bone marrow, croquetas, and paella rotating through tables of people who clearly planned this weeks out. The all-Spanish wine list and good cocktails keep things moving, and the music is loud enough that nobody's whispering.

Marble-top bar, globe pendants, and coffee-brown tables give this Basque restaurant on the Lower East Side a midcentury feel that somehow never reads as costume. The room runs loud and convivial, the way a good tapas night should, and everything is built for sharing. The wine list leans deep into small Spanish organic and biodynamic producers, which is either very convenient or a very pleasant trap, depending on your evening.

This is a José Andrés steakhouse inside The Venetian, and the open kitchen is basically a stage for a very large fire. Bone-in wagyu ribeyes get charred there, while the menu also stocks Ibérico ham and an aged-cow beef most steakhouses skip. Caviar comes in single-bite cones, which tells you about the tax bracket. Dress like you're celebrating something, since most tables are.

On the 17th floor of the Four Seasons Orlando, Capa is a Spanish-leaning steakhouse where the view over the resort competes hard with the menu. Michelin one-starred, it spans gambas, sherry-braised mushrooms, and substantial bone-in ribeye, with a pastry program that turns gazpacho into dessert. The setting pushes it toward celebration territory, and the crowd dresses accordingly.

The oak-and-charcoal grill doing steady work on Ibérico pork and whole fish is a reasonable argument for why this Spanish restaurant inside a food hall draws a serious crowd. The chef, an alum of José Andrés's Minibar, runs the room with a light touch: tapas at the bar, big shared platters for the table, and a Basque cheesecake that regulars treat as non-negotiable. The patio helps on good days.

The old bus depot downtown is now a Spanish tapas bar warm enough to make you forget you had anywhere else to be. Jamón hangs over a dedicated carving station, croquettes and patatas bravas fill the table, and a bottle of something Iberian seems to materialize on its own. The team took home a James Beard Award for Outstanding Hospitality, which tracks: the room pulls you in and the staff keeps you there.

A covered patio furnished in reclaimed and upcycled wood sets the vibe at this Encinitas brunch spot, which holds a Michelin Bib Gourmand and a spot on the Los Angeles Times 101 Best Restaurants list. The kitchen leans into local ingredients and a short, seasonal menu built for sharing. The nonalcoholic drinks menu gets real attention here, which is rarer than it should be. The crowd skews the kind of people who actually know their farmers.

The Txuletón, a Basque-style ribeye from mature dairy cows, grilled over open charcoal with salt, heat, and not much else, is the organizing principle of this Basque-inspired chophouse in River North. The kitchen takes its cues from the asador tradition, applying that discipline to seriously sourced beef, carefully aged. Spanish reds anchor the wine list. Esquire named it among the best new restaurants in America, and it lands at number 15 on the World's Best Steak Restaurants list.

Concrete walls, moody lighting, and a hearth that glows through the open kitchen set the tone at this live-fire restaurant in the Heights. The menu pulls from everywhere, pairing live-fire technique with influences that drift across continents, and the whole thing is built for sharing. A James Beard Emerging Chef semifinalist runs the kitchen. Bring a group, order widely, and expect the bass to be louder than you planned for.

This is a family-run Basque spot on Main Street where the sausage does most of the talking, in bocadillos and appetizers, with chorizo you can also take home by the pound. The menu mixes old-country standards with newer moves like beef tongue in tomato and pepper sauce. They cater too, so your next office party could finally have a point. The Ansotegui family has been in Basque Boise a long time, and the chef was a James Beard Best Chef: Mountain semifinalist in 2024.

The tenth floor of a downtown hotel turns out to be a fine place to stare at Walt Disney Concert Hall while José Andrés's team works through a menu of modern Californian cooking with a Spanish lean. The facade opens fully, making the room feel more rooftop than restaurant. A Forbes Four Star. Earth tones, greenery, a busy bar, and a tomato tartare that arrives looking like the beef version but absolutely is not.

Low plush chairs, patterned tiles, and booths that encourage you to stay another glass make this Downtown Orlando wine bar feel like an evening rather than just dinner. The menu leans Spanish and European, and the chef draws on family recipes for much of it, which gives the food a specificity that generic "European" usually doesn't. A 2025 James Beard nominee for Outstanding Restaurateur runs the room, and it shows.

Fabio Trabocchi's fine dining room at the Wharf is all coastal blues and polished brass, with floor-to-ceiling windows over the Potomac that make the room feel like it floats. The Spanish menu runs from jamón croquetas and spreadable sobrasada to paella loaded with lobster and giant prawns, with impeccably simple fish in between. The crowd dresses up, as they should.

This is a Basque restaurant in an old three-story hotel building, where dinner arrives as a parade: soup, salad, beans, fries, bread, and a glass of house wine, with a main course somewhere in the middle. Strangers share long tables, so you'll make friends whether or not you were planning to. Most people order the Picon Punch, a brandy-and-grenadine thing in a bell-shaped glass, and nobody tries to talk them out of it.

José Andrés launched his American empire here, and this Penn Quarter tapas bar has been loud and full of energy ever since. The dining room goes heavy on tile, glass, and art, which sets the mood before the vermouth list even arrives. Sangria and sherry are smart starts, and the bacalao fritters and olive-oil ice cream over grapefruit granita are reasons to stay long past the last small plate.

Low ceilings with thick wood beams, amber light, and banquettes that make every table feel like a booth in the back of someone's private club. Bartolo is a Spanish restaurant in the West Village, the kind where you order oxtail braised in red wine and suckling pig and let the table fill up. The martini list has its own following, and the servers are sharp enough to keep a long night moving without making it feel rushed.

Chaval is a Spanish-leaning restaurant on Pine Street that runs on Maine ingredients with French habits tucked in, so a local pork chop can show up wearing a shellfish cream sauce and nobody complains. The rooms are warm, there's a patio for when the weather cooperates, and the pastry side of the house means dessert is part of the plan, not an afterthought. Dress for a nice dinner, not a lobster bib.

A few blocks from the beach, this Spanish restaurant fills a cream stucco building with colorful tiles, pink bar stools, and starburst fixtures that manage to feel festive without tipping into kitsch. It's a tapas and paella spot with a Michelin Bib Gourmand, a wood counter worth claiming, and a separate gin and tonic list that functions as both opening argument and closing statement. Servers know the menu cold, so let them guide you.

Haunches of jamón serrano hang above the bar, which tells you everything about the room before you've ordered a thing. Morcilla is a Spanish taverna in Lawrenceville where the move is to order widely from the small plates menu, pour into sherry from Valencia, and let the table get a little crowded. Housemade charcuterie anchors the whole operation, and montaditos, charred octopus, and rich liver mousse keep things interesting between sips.

The oyster comes out and someone brands it tableside with a hot coal before dousing it in ponzu and rice vinegar mayo, which sets the tone for the rest of the meal. This is a Spanish tapas restaurant in downtown Miami with concrete floors, a dim room, and servers who dress like they just came from somewhere better. Paellas and seafood-forward small plates are made for groups and loud tables. Next door, the same team runs a natural wine bar.

Edan Bistro is a casual Basque restaurant in North Miami, set in a room with bare walls and the decor ambitions of a dentist's waiting area. The decorating budget clearly went into the kitchen, which sends out croquetas and ribeyes in the manner of the San Sebastian spots it's compared to. There's dinner, brunch, and an eight-course tasting menu that ends with gooey Basque cheesecake, so you can escalate at your own pace.

The banquettes are printed with jokes, which tells you something about the mood at this rustic Spanish tapas bar from chef Amar Santana. Sherries and Spanish wines run deep, the bar area is a good-looking place to park yourself, and the kitchen sends out croquetas, paellas, and little grilled sandwiches layered with jamón ibérico and Manchego. Two outdoor patios round out the options when the weather cooperates, which in Costa Mesa it usually does.

José Andrés runs this steakhouse inside the Ritz-Carlton NoMad like a controlled burn, with an open charcoal and wood-fired kitchen that fills the room with smoke and a sense of occasion that most restaurants wouldn't dare attempt. The cuts run American and Japanese, aged both ways, cooked over fire that does real work rather than just looking good. It landed on the World's Best Steak Restaurants list, which tracks.

A mahogany bar anchors one end while a giant abstract mural anchors the other, and in between, marina lights hang above wooden booths full of regulars who clearly regard this as their personal dining room. Sur Lie is a tapas-style New American spot where small, eclectic plates rotate through whatever the kitchen finds interesting. A James Beard semifinalist for Outstanding Hospitality, the warmth here is structural, not performed.

The chef's pastry background explains why the flan de erizo and the croissant sobrasada roll have each turned heads at Seattle Met. This tapas bar on 12th Avenue riffs on Galician cooking, leaning into the Pacific Northwest's seafood to find where Spain's northwest and Washington's coastline overlap. The menu takes liberties, in a good way, and the sherry list is longer than you'd expect. A James Beard semifinalist in 2024.

Custom Rookwood pottery displayed above the open kitchen pass sets the tone at Jose Salazar's namesake restaurant, a mid-sized dining room where servers stand with hands clasped, quietly hunting for glasses to refill. The format is tapas in spirit: order everything at once, and the team paces it out. Dishes lean seasonal and arrive with an almost theatrical commitment to color, the kind of cooking that makes you notice it before you taste it.

The smell of saffron hits you before you reach the door, which is a reasonable promise to make. La Marcha is a Spanish tapas and paella restaurant on San Pablo where the jamón legs hanging in the back corner set the decorative tone. Paellas come in enough variations to anchor a group, and the happy hour draws solo diners to the L-shaped bar for wine and free bites. Rustic, lively, and never quiet.

A chef's counter built for multicourse tastings anchors the low-lit, warm-toned room, though walk-ins grazing on tapas fill it just as happily. This is a Spanish tapas spot from the chef behind Alma Fonda Fina, and it flies a little under the radar for it, which means a table here is easier to come by. The cocktail list leans saffron-forward, and the wine picks from lesser-known Spanish regions are worth the detour.

The sweet smoke from two wood-burning ovens hits you before you reach the door. Inside, chef Chris Hastings runs a Spanish-inflected tapas spot with a sun-drenched dining room and a spacious patio that feels more backyard cookout than restaurant. Much of the food comes out of cast-iron skillets, the menu is built for sharing, and the Michelin Bib Gourmand keeps the crowd coming. Bring people you like enough to fight over the last empanada.

The slow-roasted suckling pig leg that anchors the menu tells you this isn't your standard tapas crawl. La Vara is a cozy Spanish restaurant in Cobble Hill where the kitchen takes cocina casera, home cooking, as both its premise and its ambition. Alex Raij's food has a playful, quietly inventive quality; the room draws the kind of neighborhood regulars who eventually stop looking at the menu and just tell the server to do whatever.

A raw bar and seafood bistro in Back Bay where the tinned fish wall alone could occupy you for an embarrassing amount of time before you've even looked at the menu. The kitchen's approach to classics has range, from lobster rolls to raw preparations to globally inflected dishes. Caviar service is on the menu and taken seriously enough that Boston Magazine noticed. The room runs indulgent without trying to make a statement about it.

A chorizo-washed mezcal margarita is a strong opening argument for the bar program at this Spanish pintxos spot on Locust. The menu runs the classics, pan con tomate, patatas bravas, a Caesar buried under microplaned manchego with a paprika-spiked dressing, and the kitchen handles them with enough care that they feel like discoveries. The crowd tends to stay later than planned, which is more or less the point.

José Andrés brought his Spanish tapas restaurant to the third floor of the Cosmopolitan, and the room has the kind of energy that makes you order more than you planned. The menu leans modern, built around small plates, and the kitchen flies ingredients in from Spain to back up the claim. Jamón Ibérico, gambas al ajillo, croquetas, pan de cristal con tomate: the classics are all here, done without apology.

Tucked into the ground floor of the Drake hotel in Oak Brook, COA is a Spanish restaurant where the kitchen splits its attention between tapas, paella, and prime cuts for anyone who wandered in expecting a steakhouse. The vibe shifts noticeably after dark, when the music climbs, the cocktails multiply, and the dining room starts feeling more like a party someone forgot to end.

Dress code enforced, portions sized for sharing, and a dining room that leans into Old World Spanish formality with enough commitment to make Newark feel briefly far away. This is a long-running Spanish restaurant where seafood paella and shellfish casserole anchor a menu built around generous plates of fresh seafood and steak. The kind of place where the garlic shrimp arrives without irony and regulars know better than to show up in sneakers.

A whole leg of jamón ibérico mounted on a carving stand anchors the room, which tells you most of what you need to know. This is Jose Andres's live-fire steak counter inside Mercado Little Spain at Hudson Yards, built around a wood-burning Basque-style grill. The steaks are the point, though the carnivorous atmosphere is half the meal. Somehow it also manages to be family-friendly without feeling like a concession, which in Manhattan is its own quiet trick.

A tapas spot in Los Feliz where the Iberian flatbreads come topped with caramelized onion, aged cheese, and a drizzle of passionfruit, which sounds like a dare but lands. The menu is built for sharing, moving through small plates and ceviche shots before reaching a wine-braised oxtail stew that finishes with house-made potato chips for crunch. The chef draws on Spanish pantry staples without being precious about it.

Named for M.F.K. Fisher, the great American food writer, this Iberian restaurant sits in a whitewashed, tile-lined basement on Diversey that somehow feels like a terrace in the sun. The menu runs small to large, with the kind of clean, confident cooking that makes an anchovy crostini feel like a complete argument. Lakeview locals fill it early and often, which means booking ahead is less optional than it sounds.

Enrique Limardo of Imperfecto keeps the room deliberately calm, all cream, beige, and light wood inside the Ritz-Carlton, so the Spanish-meets-Latin-American food has nowhere to hide. Tapas and small plates anchor the menu, with a whole section devoted to rice dishes, including a pink beet-stained arroz tucked with roasted vegetables and fava beans that earns its page. Mains run meat-forward and come sized for the table.

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 dining room alone causes arguments: depending on your table, you're sitting in sun-drenched whimsy, blood-red velvet, or the amber spill of an open Basque grill. Dalia is a Spanish restaurant that treats Spain as a starting point rather than a period piece, so calamari stand in for noodles in a riff on dan dan, and patatas bravas arrive as lacquered, shatteringly crisp pavé cubes. The New York Times named it to their 2026 Restaurant List.

Gilda is a Basque-style pintxos bar in West Town, named for the skewer of anchovy, pickled pepper, and olive that arrives early and sets the tone for a lot of small, salty things on toothpicks. Cod croquettes and a cheesecake round out the food, and the cocktails get weird in a good way, like mezcal washed in jamón fat. Reservations are the rule most days, with Mondays left for walk-ins.

The counter seats by the roll-up door are the ones to ask for at this Basque-leaning bistro in Denver's West Wash Park. The chef runs a rotisserie, ships white asparagus from France when it's in season, and keeps a pan con tomate on the menu that nearly every table orders. The New York Times put it on their 2026 Restaurant List, which tracks. The whole place reads like a bistro that skipped the part where bistros become self-conscious about being bistros.

This is a Spanish restaurant inside the Westfield UTC mall, which is a sentence that sounds like a dare until the paella arrives. It's a sit-down, mid-priced spot built around shareable rice, with a crisp socarrat bottom for those who fight over the burnt parts. Jamón gets sliced by hand at the table, the wine list leans heavily Catalan, and a family-run Barcelona operation is somehow doing this between a department store and a Cheesecake Factory.

Every log in the hearth is Michigan oak, cherry, or applewood, and the smoke threads through a Basque and Catalan menu that sprawls from pintxos to proper entrees. This is a sit-down dinner spot in Brush Park where sharing is assumed and the wine list leans Spanish throughout. A specialty gin and tonic section and a sherry-forward low-alcohol program round out what is, by any measure, a well-considered room to spend money in on a Friday night.

This Spanish restaurant off Paradise Road gets some of its French cooking from a former Joël Robuchon chef, so the potato purée arrives buttery and the croquetas arrive dressed as croque monsieur. The dining room has crystal chandeliers and high ceilings, dressy enough for a business dinner, though a Domino's downstairs keeps anyone from getting too precious. Chartreuse is on draft, which is how the night usually ends.

The walls are covered in graffiti from happily drunken guests, and over a thousand bottles of Iberian, Italian, and French wine climb to the ceiling of this West Miami tapas bar. It channels the chaotic warmth of a Sevillian taverna: string lights, live music every night, cold cuts, garlic gambas, and a Saturday-only paella that regulars plan their weekends around. The New York Times named it one of Miami's 25 best restaurants right now.

A Spanish tapas bar in downtown Santa Fe where the kitchen runs New Mexico ingredients through Iberian technique, landing somewhere that feels less like fusion and less like either place than it probably should. Small plates anchor the menu, and the wine list leans Mediterranean and South American. James Campbell Caruso has been at this long enough that the weekend crowd skews toward people who knew him before you did, so book ahead.

This is a small Spanish tapas restaurant on Stockton Street with fewer than ten tables, a dim, moody room, and a sangria habit that works best by the pitcher. Plan on ordering a whole table's worth of small plates, then saving room for the daily risotto and the tres leches. The website hasn't been touched in years, so for a last-minute table you'll need to do the unthinkable and call. It's a date-night and celebration kind of room.

Epi's is a family-run Basque restaurant in Meridian, built on one great-grandmother's recipes and handed down through three generations without anyone apparently wanting to change them. Expect a sit-down meal of croquetas, lamb stew with green peppers, and baby squid in broth the color of printer ink. Eater lists it among Boise's essentials, and the gateau Basque at the end is how people keep the family tradition going.

Colombian empanadas next to lamb Bolognese next to butter chicken, and somehow none of it fights. La Merenda was doing international small plates in Walker's Point before the neighborhood caught up, and the reservations-required dining room still draws the crowd that doesn't need a theme explained to them. The goat cheese curds in chorizo cream sauce over crostini is the kind of thing that makes the eclectic menu feel less like a concept and more like a good idea.

Whole roast suckling pig, ordered tableside with enough ceremony to make your neighbors jealous, is the move at this Spanish tapas restaurant in Ballston. The co-owner, Spanish himself, infuses his own spirits, and the gin and tonic is the kind of thing that makes you question every gin and tonic you've had before. Paella, croquetas, and a raw bar round things out, and the patio catches a breeze when the weather cooperates.

The mollette, a pulled-oxtail sandwich with pickled vegetables and a sherry glaze, sits next to lobster and oysters on a menu that refuses to pick a lane, which is very much the point. Arrels is a modern Spanish restaurant where the cooking runs from rustic to refined without apology. The fideua, made with vermicelli, Manchego, jamón, and truffle cream, gives you a reason to linger well past the bread course.

A 60-day aged Txuleton ribeye, cooked over a charcoal-fired grill and a Spanish wood oven, is the reason this Basque steakhouse inside Mercado Little Spain exists. The kitchen splits its sourcing between American producers and Spanish importers, which puts Ibérico pork and Spanish lamb alongside the beef with a logic that holds. Sommeliers steer you toward Spanish bottles, and the martini comes with olive oil-infused gin and a Basque gilda, because of course it does.