The Best Places to Eat and Do in the United States

Taco Centro is a casual Little Italy taquería where birria turns up on tacos, on pizza, and in ramen, which is a lot of jobs for one braise. The menu runs thirteen tacos deep, with a Sonoran one on a freshly formed flour tortilla that gets most of the attention. Churros con tres leches close things out, and the drinks lean micheladas, palomas, and local beer on tap. Order at the counter, wear whatever you walked in wearing.

A charcoal-fired street cart in a Silver Lake parking lot, doing Hermosillo-style asada the way it's meant to be done: beef piled onto tallow-rich tortillas with cabbage, guacamole, and a lineup of salsas that demands some decision-making. The team behind it brings serious pedigree, Atla among the past stops. The menu is short on purpose, asada tacos, burritos, and the fixings, and the line makes the case before you've ordered.

The long counter at this old-school Chinese restaurant in the Chinatown-International District has been accumulating scuffs, celebrity photos, and regulars for decades. The menu has been this way forever, and that's the point: beef in oyster sauce, chop suey built on sautéed vegetables, nothing experimental. The owner waves you out the door himself, which is a touch you don't get everywhere.

The menu changes six days a week and gets posted to social media, so regulars follow Tevin Love's feeds the way other people follow sports scores. This Vermont Square soul food and Caribbean spot grew from home-cooked meals sold out of Love's house, and the dining room still carries that energy. Oxtails, jerk chicken wings, and macaroni and cheese anchor the rotation, but the jerk salmon and lamb chops, when they appear, tend to disappear fast.

A tofu production company that sprouted a deli counter, Thanh Son is the rare spot where the house-made soy milk and fresh tofu, sold by the pound, upstage everything else on offer. The banh mi are built to order on house-baked bread, and the glass case of che, Vietnamese sweet dessert, stacks up a rainbow of tapioca, jellies, and beans in combinations that take a minute to decode. Bring restraint, or at least a spoon.

The baristas here treat coffee sourcing the way a sommelier treats a wine list, asking what you're in the mood for, floral or fruity, bright or nutty, and steering you toward something you wouldn't have ordered on your own. This sunny corner coffee shop in Philadelphia is genuinely tiny, and weekend lines of pourover devotees stretch down the block. The za'atar croissants disappear early, so arriving with time to spare is less advice than strategy.

Two million crystals drape from floor to ceiling across three floors, which is either maximalist or just correct for Las Vegas. The Chandelier is a cocktail lounge inside the Cosmopolitan, and each level is technically its own bar, from the casino-facing ground floor up to the quieter top lounge. Ask for the Verbena, an off-menu drink with a buzz button flower that momentarily numbs your mouth before the cocktail lands.

An Italian-leaning specialty food shop that doubles as a sandwich counter, with crusty bread packed with combinations like fried zucchini and pesto or prosciutto and coppa. The shelves hold artisanal cheeses, salumi, preserves, and breads for anyone who wants to assemble something impressive at home. Been around forever under different ownership, and the new team moved it into a brighter space without losing the plot.

A mirrored, handsome room on a corner that used to be a franchise Mexican spot, now serving wagyu French dip and whole lobster repositioned in the shell for easier eating. It's a polished, scene-y restaurant from Catch Hospitality, which means it looks great and reservations can be a project. Taylor Swift has been spotted here, which tells you roughly what kind of evening to dress for.

The Fattened Caf is a casual counter-order spot that happens to be St. Louis's only Filipino barbecue joint, which means a pitmaster and a Filipina chef got married and the rest of us got smoked chicken rubbed with burnt coconut. The pork steak, a local obsession, comes marinated in Filipino spices over java rice. Grab a rattan couch up front and share the room with strangers, or bring a crew to the big tables in back.

A Sunset Strip breakfast diner where the pancakes run about twelve inches across and the menu lists twenty variations, which means the only real decision is how much butter you want on your Oreo stack. The crowd on weekend mornings makes the sidewalk look like a casting call, but the line moves. A casual, cash-friendly spot that takes pancakes more seriously than most places take anything.

The Grill is a sit-down American restaurant at the Wharf, the sort of place you pick when the show at the Anthem starts soon and nobody can agree on dinner. The menu is steaks, salads, mac and cheese, and lobster rolls, a dressed-up cousin of the roadside chain. There's a wine wall with faux wood pillars, and the servers wear formal attire, which feels generous for a burger.

The name suggests a taco-and-enchilada situation, and then the menu shows up with tenderloin cooked in bone marrow and enchiladas stuffed with Maine lobster. This is a Brickell Key restaurant that treats Mexican food as a reason to order the steak, including a 33-ounce Wagyu tomahawk built for a table of negotiators. The tequila and mezcal list is long, and the margaritas lean on it. Dress like the check will be large.

The Parlour is a casual Fremont East breakfast-and-coffee spot where the espresso martini and the spiced chai coffee cocktail sit comfortably beside the sugary lattes. There's a syphon coffee rig that brews your cup tableside, in case you wanted your caffeine to feel like a chemistry demo. The dining room is a happy pile of mismatched chairs and tchotchkes, with a deep vegan menu and burgers under $10 on weekend evenings.

The Roost is a Capitol Hill food hall where you order from your phone and the food finds you, which spares everyone the usual tray-and-buzzer shuffle. Under one roof you get Cameo Coffee, Hi-Fi Taco, and a craft beer bar pouring Bluejacket brews. There's also Caruso's Grocery, a sit-down red sauce joint with faded red booths and chicken Parmigiana, doing a convincing impression of a place your grandfather had a table at.

The Royce is a wine bar and bottle shop near Grand Circus Park, where walnut shelving, globe lights, and library ladders make buying a bottle feel faintly like checking out a book. A 12-seat bar anchors the first floor, with cured meats and cheeses to keep the pours company. Over 300 bottles are for sale, plenty by the glass, and classes are on offer for anyone who'd rather understand the list than guess at it.

The Skip is a cocktail bar in the Belt alleyway, where the walls open up in summer and the frozen drinks come out to meet the breeze. Winter closes the patio and swaps in tiki-style cocktails and holiday specials built on nostalgia. Matty Matheson designed the menu, though anyone wanting a proper sit-down meal gets pointed to the bigger sibling, Standby, a few feet away. Expect downtown energy and a festival mood in any season.

A post-fire renovation gave this Abbot Kinney neighborhood restaurant a fresher face, but the kitchen's restless energy is the same. Chef Casey Lane shops the farmers market in the morning and writes the menu by evening, so the charcoal-kissed dishes you order barely existed as an idea at breakfast. Pasta, whole fish, and whatever looked good at the stalls that day fill a room that Venice locals treat as a standing appointment.

Thim Hing is a cash-only bánh mì counter where people leave carrying sandwiches by the armload, as if provisioning for a long voyage. Around lunch, trunks get loaded with plastic bags of the stuff. The baguette runs rail-thin and loud when you bite it, which means more crunch per square inch than the usual loaf. Bring cash, order for everyone you know, and expect to be the slowest person in line.

The front window is how you order, the aguas frescas are poured cold, and the adobada is quietly the whole argument for coming. This Echo Park taqueria is a branch of a Tijuana original, serving the usual lineup of proteins as tacos, mulitas, burritos, and vampiros. It landed on Eater's hottest new restaurants list, which tracks, given how fast the neighborhood found it. First-timers are pointed toward the adobada, and regulars tend to agree.

This is a dim sum restaurant in Katy Asian Town, part of the chain that earned the "world's least expensive Michelin-starred restaurant" nickname back in Hong Kong. The baked char siu buns, sweet and crackly on top, are what the room orders first. The dining room is big and booth-lined, with a bar off to the side that gives it a faint sports-bar energy. Nobody dresses up for this, and the check stays modest.

True Food Kitchen is a bright, casual daytime-to-dinner spot in Downtown Summerlin where the menu has a ready answer for every dietary restriction at the table. That makes it the group-chat compromise that actually gets approved. Expect yoga leggings still in circulation, a lineup of bowls, salads, and sourdough pizza, and fried chicken that skips the gluten and the deep fryer. The flourless chocolate cake closes things out.

Tú Lan is a no-frills Vietnamese counter-service spot on Mid-Market that has been feeding the neighborhood for what feels like forever. Lunchtime means office workers grabbing takeout while a few people eat at the back tables. The imperial rolls arrive loud and crackling, and the pho, rice plates, and vermicelli bowls are sized for a second meal. You leave with leftovers and change from a twenty.

Vaca is a polished Spanish restaurant by the FIGat7th mall, an Orange County import that landed where the consultants and the company cards are. Tapas like gambas al ajillo and croquetas start around $20, ribeyes and paellas run much larger, and the steaks climb past $100. It suits a client dinner, a power lunch, or a parent you'd like to impress. Wear the good blazer, and let the expense report take the hit.

Gold hands serve as beer taps, jewel-toned decanters fill a Queen Anne cabinet, and the wallpaper is not quite what it seems. Velveteen Rabbit is a cocktail bar in the Arts District that takes the storybook theme seriously without going precious about it: seasonal menus, vintage glassware, and drinks rooted in Golden Age mixology. The patio and light-projected walls are draws on their own. Weekends fill up, so book ahead.

Vino & Vinyl is a wine bar in Sugar Land's Town Center that also happens to be a record shop, so you can flip through used LPs while someone pours you a glass. The menu runs to charcuterie boards, flatbreads, and heartier plates like steak tacos and braised short ribs. Happy hour is generous with its days, covering all of Tuesday plus late afternoons later in the week, which suits the unhurried, turntable-adjacent pace.

Vino Carta is a wine bar that doubles as a bottle shop at the north end of Little Italy, so you can drink a glass here or walk out with something for later. The shelves run to hundreds of bottles, heavy on natural, orange, and sparkling from small family producers. There's a monthly wine club, plus food pop-ups and the occasional DJ night, which is a lot of ambition for something that started as a place to buy wine.

Warung Indo is a casual strip-mall Indonesian spot in Sugar Land, one of only two in the Houston area, which explains why homesick Indonesians treat it like a embassy with better lunch hours. The menu runs through the national greatest hits, nasi campur and nasi goreng among them, plus a turmeric-gold chicken soup for bad days. Order the pandan-and-coconut cendol to drink, and bring cash-register-line patience.

Lobster rolls come two ways here, cold New England-style or warm with butter, which tells you most of what you need to know about West Side Oyster Club. It's a casual seafood spot on Ocean Avenue doing clam chowder bread bowls, fried oysters, shrimp tacos, and po'boys in a room dressed in rustic wood and white tile, the whole thing quietly pretending the Pacific isn't right outside.

Sand coffee brewed over heated sand until frothy is the move here, and Yala is one of the only coffee shops in the city serving it. The Middle Eastern cafe on Sunset leans into fig matcha lattes and espresso-apricot tonics alongside the traditional stuff. It shares a block with a natural wine bar and a flea market, so the sidewalk patio fills with the kind of Silver Lake crowd that has strong opinions about both coffee and vintage denim.

Yi Cha means "second round" in Korean, which tells you the plan: show up already fed and keep going. It's a Korean gastropub on North Figueroa, doing pub food with a Korean American accent, like nachos piled with ginger-braised pork and chicken wings in gochujang Buffalo sauce. The cocktails run toward lychee and soju, and the bubbling gamjatang is a fine reason to ignore your original dinner plans.

A former bike shop on York Boulevard that now runs eggs and cocktails out of the same kitchen, Zero Fox is a family-owned all-day cafe and bar doing brunch in the morning and burgers after the sun dips. The menu shifts by the hour: chilaquiles and hot honey chicken and waffles give way to nachos and wings, with aguas frescas on one end and a chile-rimmed Foxirita on the other.

The original 1930s wooden beams, plastered over for decades while the building housed a scooter-rental shop, are visible again here. Zigu is a modern izakaya tucked into the ground floor, running a menu of small plates, tempura, and sushi with local touches woven through: mochiko fried chicken, kale noodles, green papaya rolls. Waikiki usually does loud and obvious; this room does quiet and considered.