The Best Places to Eat and Do in the United States

A sharkskin grater, some earthen ceramics, and knives that could plausibly start a conflict: the counter at this sushi shop tells you everything before a piece of fish appears. The chef trained at Morimoto's before opening this intimate spot in the Fairway Shops, where you can order a la carte most days. Weekends, the omakase seats about a dozen people for a long, unhurried dinner with fish flown in from Toyosu Market.

Murals and Black-inspired art cover the walls of this cafeteria-style Southern spot on the Northside, where the steam trays are loaded with fried chicken, oxtails, and mac and cheese that earns its reputation. The desserts, peach cobbler and lemon meringue among them, come from the owner's mother, which explains why the room fills with the kind of regulars who already know what they're getting before they reach the counter.

Mismatched tablecloths and cloth napkins set the tone at this cozy Mediterranean-leaning tea room and cafe, where the menu runs to sandwiches, salads, and sampler plates with a light Greek accent. The house iced tea is steeped with clove, and the patio, tucked behind a fountain, manages to feel like someone's backyard despite sitting right off the street. A good spot for a slow Saturday lunch with no particular agenda.

Tekka is a walkup hand-roll counter inside The Cosmopolitan, built for people with somewhere louder to be. Each temaki arrives one at a time, so the nori stays crisp, with warm rice and the friendly basics like salmon, yellowtail, and spicy tuna. A set of three runs under $30. There's a nitro matcha on tap for a gentle buzz, and the seating line moves fast, which is the right speed for a Strip pit stop.

Gazpacho arrives in a glass porrón, and the oysters come buried in a cloud of smoke, because a Barcelona group opening a tapas spot in a Palo Alto shopping center was never going to be subtle about it. The menu runs through pintxos, paella, and Catalonian standards, with a small shop stocking Spanish wines and tinned goods near the door for the ride home.

A bright pink Tex-Mex restaurant in the Heights, covered in murals, beer posters, and neon, with a parking lot that has been full for as long as anyone can remember. The queso arrives at the exact drippy consistency fajitas and flautas demand, and the margaritas work faster than the service, which is saying something. It handles birthday crowds, a two-person booth, and the odd pancake breakfast with equal calm.

The wood-fired oven runs hot enough that the Neapolitan crusts come out blistered and light, with char spots that mean someone is paying attention. Terún is a pizza shop on California Ave that has been a gathering spot for the Italian expat crowd on the Peninsula for a while now. The black and white dining room is spare, which makes the olive oil and the colors on the plates look even more vivid by contrast.

The Birria Queen is a taco truck in Third Ward, and the name spares you any guesswork about the menu. The tacos come crisp and stuffed with cheese, with carne asada, chicken, or a vegan filling inside, and most people grab theirs to go. Park at the picnic table instead, dunk each one in the consomé while it's still hot, and order the jalapeño crema on the side if you're feeling brave.

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

The Boys' Deli is a sandwich counter tucked into the back of Polk Street Market in Russian Hill, and the rotisserie chicken turning near the entrance does most of the recruiting. It's an order-at-the-counter, wrapper-and-napkin lunch where the Spitfire pairs chicken with bacon, jalapeños, and sriracha mayo. The specials rotate, so the menu changes while the faint smell of chicken on your jacket does not.

A buffet inside a medieval-castle casino, which means you can fill a plate with sushi, smoked brisket, and beef birria before noon and nobody in a plastic sword will question it. Six stations cover American, Asian, Italian, and Latin, with made-to-order omelets, iced shellfish, and a dessert counter running to crepes and frozen custard. Dress code is whatever got you through the casino floor, and prices stay in the low-to-mid thirties.

A line snaking out of a Thruway Shopping Center storefront at noon is the surest sign something is working. This family-owned sandwich and salad shop has been a Winston-Salem lunch fixture for decades, with regulars who come for the three-salad plates, spicy sesame noodles, and chicken salad, then linger over the daily specials board hoping the orange ginger grilled shrimp has shown up. Save room for a lemon bar.

The Garrison is a seafood restaurant in Ballard from the people behind Le Coin, built around local clams and oysters. The clams arrive in a brothy cured lemon butter, which comes with grilled bread so that no one has to resort to drinking from the bowl in public. The crab puff pastry is a flaky, delicate thing, and the oysters have been known to make strangers at the next table speak up. Eater put it on its Seattle seafood list.

A 10,000-square-foot steakhouse in South Barrington built for the kind of night that ends with someone else signing the check. The menu runs to wagyu, roasted seafood towers, and lobster rolls, all designed to photograph well and eat even better. The chef came up through Gibsons Restaurant Group, so the kitchen knows its way around a serious piece of beef. Suburbs have had the chains; this is the splurge alternative.

The red leather booths survived the renovation intact, and the 1970s diner vibe is so well-preserved you half-expect a harvest-gold appliance somewhere in the back. The Heyday is a casual burger shop on North Palm Canyon serving smash burgers, fried chicken sandwiches, and wings alongside strong classic cocktails and a retro playlist that earns its keep. The kind of place that makes Palm Springs feel less like a wellness retreat and more like a road trip stop.

The Hornet is a takeout sandwich counter tucked inside London Market in Pacific Heights, which is less a restaurant than a very well-organized errand. The menu of sandwiches and wraps changes daily, so you pick from a handful of options and hope nobody beat you to it. Ordering online helps, since the good ones sell out early and standing in a corner market staring at an empty chalkboard is a bleak way to spend lunch.

A seafood counter in downtown Greenville where the oysters come clean and release easily off the shell. The chef's nod to local pride shows up in the po' boy, dressed with Duke's mayo, which got its start right here in town. Smoked fish dip and a tight list of high-acid whites fill out a lunch that moves fast, since the room runs first-come, first-served. Keep an eye out for the seasonal all-you-can-eat oyster roasts with live music on Sunday afternoons.

A former liquor store turned all-day breakfast diner in the Broad Avenue Arts District, where the name turns out to be the only misleading thing about it. The menu runs pancakes and biscuits alongside Cuban sandwiches and tacos, so you can eat your way through several meals at once without anyone judging you. There's patio seating out front, cocktails on the menu, and banana pudding if the day calls for it.

A tiny donut shop tucked into a shopping center off Hayden, where the menu categories are literally named Classy, Fancy, and Schmancy, so expectations are appropriately calibrated. Yeast donuts, cake donuts, mochi donuts, fritters, and seasonal pastries all share the case, and the creme brulee donut gets a kitchen torch before it reaches you. Phoenix New Times put it on their list of the Valley's top dozen donut shops.

The Nori is a handroll bar and izakaya in a Decatur Boulevard strip mall, which is where Las Vegas hides most of its good, cheap lunches. The temaki set puts five different rolls on a platter for about twenty bucks, and they're sized so you could share them with a friend. The nori arrives crisp enough to crackle, so you'll eat fast, and you will stop pretending the sharing was ever a real plan.

The kolaches here come from a family recipe that's been turning out round, fruit-filled Czech pastries in this 720-square-foot shop for generations. It's a counter-service bakery on Telephone Road where things move fast: trays come out of the oven and disappear before the display board gets warm. House-roasted coffee and fajita-stuffed croissants round out a menu that has grown without losing the grandmother's-kitchen feel it apparently started as.

The box says "We are not affiliated with other Rainbow Donuts" before you've even opened it, which tells you something about the regulars here. This North Phoenix donut shop runs a classic menu of yeast and cake donuts, maple bars, fritters, crullers, and cinnamon rolls, all leaning fluffy and fresh without the cloying sweetness that plagues lesser cases. The Tiger Tail, chocolate and vanilla dough twisted together and glazed, is the one to start with.

The Rabbit Hole is a casual Taiwanese spot on the Mission-Bernal border, and its burger is the reason a lot of people show up. It arrives piled with pickled carrots, cucumbers, and peppers under a shimmering brioche bun, with a cheddar crust on the smashed patties that crunches against all that vinegar. The fries come dusted with nori and a side of gochujang ketchup, so the burger is doing a very specific kind of cultural crossover.

An industrial-chic small-plates restaurant on Royal Street where the menu leans Gulf-forward with enough global riffs to keep things interesting. The kitchen started as a tapas spot and still thinks in that register, running imaginative little plates alongside proper mains. Save a lane for dessert: the bread pudding with toasted pecans, apples, and bourbon caramel has become something of a local institution. Closed Sundays and Mondays, so plan accordingly.

The walls here have been graffitied for so long that the graffiti is basically the décor. This old-school Boulder pizza and burger joint has been slinging pies with what regulars call "ugly crust" and grass-fed beef burgers since before anyone can remember, in a room that has hosted Robert Redford (as a server), Obama, and Bourdain. The Buff Mac, a burger topped with buffalo chicken tenders and blue cheese, has its own quiet mythology.

The Taco Stand is a counter-service taco spot on Spring Mountain Road, where the tortillas are pressed fresh as each order comes in, so nobody is rushing you but the line behind you. The menu stops at six kinds of taco, plus burritos, quesadillas, and carne asada fries. The real decision-making happens at the salsa bar, which runs from habanero to chipotle and invites you to build something nobody warned you about. Cheap, casual, no dress code.

The Thumb is a north Scottsdale gas station where you pump gas outside and order brisket by the platter inside, under a chandelier that looks lost. Counter service, cash-register prices, and a gift shop and coffee bar to browse while your number comes up. The beans are so meaty they flirt with chili. Phoenix New Times has named it one of the Valley's top barbecue spots, which is a sentence about a place with a fish tank.

A sun-filled corner bakery in Jamaica Plain where the croissant menu changes often enough to keep regulars guessing. Third Cliff built its following at a farmers market cart before settling into its permanent spot, and the French pastry classics get unexpected company here, kimchi cheddar croissants alongside vegan cardamom morning buns. The espresso is taken seriously. Neighborhood coffee shop energy, pastry-destination ambitions.

Those Guys Pies is an off-Strip pizza shop in the Lake East neighborhood, and it began life as the secret pizza spot tucked inside the Cosmopolitan. It does round and square pies, with names like the Big Sexy and a pulled-pork, pineapple, jalapeño number called the Barbecue Maui Wowie. A ghost-pepper pie called the Diablo is on the menu too, for anyone who woke up feeling fearless. Eater included it on its list of the best pizza in Las Vegas.

An old-school Jewish bakery that's been a Houston institution for generations, Three Brothers turns out egg bread, rye, pumpernickel, bagels, Kaiser rolls, pecan pie, and gingerbread men year-round from its Braeswood location. The roots run deep, tracing back to Eastern European family recipes, and the counter still feels like it. Three other outposts have opened around the city, but this is where the habit starts.

This is an old-school Houston bakery with a display case that runs from rye and pumpernickel to Kaiser rolls, bagels, coffee cakes, and pecan pie. The recipes trace back to Poland by way of a family that's been at it for generations, which explains why the gingerbread men show up year-round instead of waiting for permission. Expect a line of regulars who already know their order and a cashier who's heard every question about the cookies.

This is an old-school Houston bakery with Eastern European roots, the kind of place where rye, pumpernickel, and Kaiser rolls share a case with coffee cakes and pecan pie. Gingerbread men are made year-round, which tells you the cookies have no concept of a calendar. It's a counter-service stop with a few tables, a bag-it-yourself pace, and a line that's mostly regulars who already know what they came for.

Three Brothers is an old-school Houston bakery with a counter, a line, and a bakery case that does not believe in restraint. Rye, pumpernickel, and Kaiser rolls sit near coffee cakes, pecan pie, and gingerbread men that are available in any month, apparently because December has no monopoly. It's cheap, casual, and busy, the kind of place where you walk in for bread and walk out holding a box of cookies you can't quite explain.