The Best Places to Eat and Do in the United States

This is the Vegas branch of a New York all-day cafe, a sunny, Tiffany-blue dining room beside the Bellagio's botanical gardens where bagels arrive stacked in three-tier towers. It's fancy for a place that mostly sells eggs and fish salad, so the Strip's fully rested and the freshly regretful sit side by side over grapefruit cocktails. Grab a sticky bun from the cart up front on your way out.

Eight seats and a cypress bar is the whole room, and the quiet that settles over it mid-meal is the kind that happens when people are paying close attention. This San Mateo omakase counter serves Edomae sushi built on fish flown in from Toyosu, with curing and aging doing quiet work before a single piece of nigiri lands in front of you. Chef Akira Yoshizumi honed the style across Japan and New York, and the precision shows.

The 1889 Saloon inside is supposedly designed by the cattle baron's wife, which is exactly the kind of detail that makes this old-school Phoenix steakhouse feel like it earned its spurs. Corn-fed aged beef and prime rib anchor the menu, alongside bison meatloaf and baking soda biscuits that haven't changed much since the place opened. The Western décor leans hard into its ranching roots, and nobody seems to mind.

This is a deli at Circa where the sandwiches arrive big enough to share, and the fluorescent lights stay on around the clock. That suits the clientele, a mix of tourists who haven't been to bed yet and people who woke up wanting a reuben at breakfast. Pancakes and shakshuka run until 2pm, and the matzo ball soup shows up whenever your night is ending. Ordering online spares you the lighting.

The mole menu alone runs seven or eight deep, which tells you what kind of Mexican restaurant this is. Red Iguana has been an old-school Salt Lake institution long enough that regulars treat the wait like a ritual, and there is always a wait. House-made corn tortillas, deeply worked sauces, the kind of cooking that takes all day. A neighborhood place that happens to draw the whole city.

A bread house and wine bar born from an actual marriage, which is either romantic or the most efficient way to divide labor ever conceived. The dishes read simple but arrive with quiet technique underneath, and a dedicated section of chilled reds by the glass gives the wine list a personality of its own. The room is casual without being careless, and the New York Times put it on their Nashville list.

Arched windows look out over Columbus Avenue from the upstairs dining room, where a tasting menu covers a lot of ground, swinging from the Mediterranean to Southeast Asia with seafood turning up often. Chef Carl Dooley rotates dishes frequently enough that regulars rarely order the same meal twice. The service stays loose rather than ceremonial, which helps, because the room could easily tip formal. The New York Times named it among Boston's 25 best.

Eric Adjepong's Ghanaian restaurant spreads across multiple floors, each with its own look, all of them full on a weeknight. You can do a tasting menu or graze from the à la carte bar menu, a riff on Ghana's casual chop-bar tradition. The cooking moves between smoky, tangy, and deeply savory in ways that feel unfamiliar and completely right at once. The seafood jollof pot alone has colonized a lot of dinner conversation in this city.

Masking tape covers the electrical outlets and laptops are not welcome, which tells you everything about the mood at this tiny Cambridge coffee shop. People line up outside the galley-sized space for foamy, salty Vietnamese iced coffee and brioche guava pastries, then settle into the gravel garden out back at rickety little tables. No wifi, no parking, no apologies.

A wool Mexican blanket hangs in the vestibule, which tells you most of what you need to know before you've even ordered. Terlingua is a neighborhood barbecue shop where the smoked meats drift Southwest and Caribbean, so the menu lands somewhere between Texas pit stop and something you'd find closer to the Gulf. The polished concrete bar fills fast, the cornbread has jalapeño and honey, and breakfast runs all day.

A one-room pizza kitchen tucked into Upcountry Maui where the chef mills his own flour and buys whole animals from a local farm before breaking them down for the toppings. The pies lean wood-fired and seasonal, with whatever Kula farms are offering that week doing most of the heavy lifting. House-made gelato closes the meal quietly but memorably. A James Beard semifinalist, which makes a lot of sense once you smell the oven from the parking lot.

The aunties behind the counter have been known to yell, and there is always a line, and nobody seems to mind either. Good Mong Kok is a Chinatown takeaway dim sum counter where the har gow come stuffed with real chunks of shrimp and the char siu bao run softball-size. Portsmouth Square is a short walk away if you need somewhere to sit. Bring cash, keep your order ready, and let the crowd move.

Coral Gables has a new-school steakhouse that runs on locally raised beef and Australian Wagyu, dry-aged and handled with the kind of seriousness that usually comes with a longer track record. The room keeps things understated, natural materials and soft light instead of the old dark-wood-and-excess formula. It landed at number 40 on the World's Best Steak Restaurants list, which is a statement for a place still finding its footing.

A white clapboard house north of downtown, Olamaie holds a Michelin star for contemporary Southern cooking served prix-fixe in a room that feels like someone's very well-appointed living room. The buttermilk biscuit with whipped honey butter is the kind of thing people mention unprompted for weeks. The cocktail list is genuinely clever, which helps when you're deciding whether to linger, and the answer is usually yes.

Dutch crunch bread is the move at this no-frills sub shop on the edge of the Excelsior, where an 8-inch sandwich still clocks in under $15. The chef behind the counter has Michelin-starred kitchen experience, which explains why the vegetarian sub, built on a hummus base with roasted peppers and cucumbers, quietly outshines the Italian. A classic neighborhood sandwich shop that happens to punch above its weight class.

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.

The bread here is a soft roll with a thin, crispy crust, and it does most of the explaining. This Vietnamese bánh mì shop draws long lines across its San Jose locations, staffed fast enough that the queue moves before you've had time to reconsider your order. The dac biet packs headcheese, cha lua, ham, and pâté into one sandwich, and the buy-four-get-one deal means regulars rarely leave with fewer than five.

A snug wine cafe in Mission Hills where the menu has a section called Farmer's Giving, which is the most polite way to say vegetables have the run of the place. The shaved Brussels sprout salad with cashew dressing gets its own fan club, and a chilled glass of Spanish wine seems to be the house-approved accessory. Small room, low voices, and plenty of couples doing their best impression of people who aren't on a first date.

The bar seats face a glass-walled noodle room where someone is forever converting spools of dough into the springy, house-made strands in your bowl. Kajiken is a Japanese soba shop specializing in aburasoba, a brothless style where oils and sauces do the heavy lifting instead. The concentrated flavor catches you off guard the first time. A table caddy of vinegar, hot sauce, and powdered nori lets you keep adjusting until it's exactly right. Expect a line at peak hours.

Cafe Colucci shares its spacious, spice-farm-decorated room with Brundo Spice Co., its in-house spice brand, which tells you something about the kitchen's priorities. This Ethiopian restaurant in Emeryville has been an East Bay institution forever, and the move to a bigger space hasn't dulled anything. Injera arrives fluffy and sour, scooping up mushroom tibs or silky raw beef kitfo with equal enthusiasm. The San Francisco Chronicle named it a Top 100 Bay Area restaurant.

The autographed headshots of old-school celebrities on the walls set the tone: this is a Fisherman's Wharf seafood restaurant that makes no apologies for being exactly what it is. Families from two hours outside the city have been cycling through for generations, and the wood-paneled bar and white-jacketed servers keep the scene feeling frozen in amber. The clam chowder is generous where it counts, and the cioppino comes in a "Lazy Man's" version with the shellfish already shelled.

Pasta is the point at this Italian restaurant on Mass Ave, where around nine varieties rotate through the menu on any given night. The all-Italian wine list keeps things honest, and the counter seats along one wall are held for walk-ins if you didn't plan ahead. It fills up fast and stays full, but the room handles it without breaking a sweat. A Michelin Selected pick that also made the New York Times' Boston shortlist.

A food truck parked at a gas station on San Carlos, serving some of the only serious Oaxacan food in the Bay Area. The tlayuda alone justifies the trip: a tortilla imported from Oaxaca, loaded with asiento, black bean puree, quesillo, and three meats, arriving in a pizza box if you order takeout. Eat at the picnic tables while it's still crisp. Memelas, enmoladas, and a menu that reads like a regional education round things out.

Chilaquiles made with dark, thick mole rather than salsa are the reason El Mil Amores draws a line on weekend mornings in the Mission. It's a brunch spot doing Mexico City-style cooking, the kind of place where the tortilla chips stay crunchy long enough to matter and the mole carries real bitterness alongside the heat. The San Francisco Chronicle named it one of the Bay Area's best brunch restaurants, which the regulars already knew.

Mesquite-grilled carne asada is the throughline at this modern Mexican steakhouse in downtown Tucson, where exposed brick and wooden beams split the difference between industrial and hacienda. The menu pushes traditional Mexican cooking into unexpected territory, lobster stuffed inside masa, chile verde stirred into mac and cheese, surf and turf riffing on enchiladas. A long tequila and mezcal list means no one is leaving dry.

The barbari bread is baked fresh each morning, which tells you something about how seriously this casual Silver Lake cafe takes Iranian cooking. Azizam runs on the kind of labor-intensive prep that doesn't announce itself, from herb-packed sandwiches to the kofteh Tabrizi, a single family-size meatball in tangy broth. Named to the New York Times Restaurant List and the L.A. Times 101 Best, it landed on Bon Appétit's Best New Restaurants list, too.

Wood-paneled walls, beers on tap, a game on the TV, and then the menu arrives and reminds you that the chef grew up in the Pacific Rim. The Duchess reads like a neighborhood pub but cooks like something else entirely. The shrimp and corn patties, crisp and spiced with Chamorro chile paste, landed on the New York Times list of best dishes eaten across the country in 2025. Wear whatever you'd wear to a bar.

The ceiling, bar, and floors are all wood, giving this Northern Vietnamese restaurant a sleek, downtown-polished look that suits its Mason Street address. Lunch runs toward phở and bún chả for the neighborhood office crowd; dinner opens into turmeric cakes topped with caviar and braised short rib that take their time. The sugarcane juice with calamansi is the move if you're not sure what to drink.

The chandelier-and-tile dining room reads like a 19th-century brasserie someone quietly upgraded from the inside. This is a modern American bistro on Magazine Street where the chef folds global techniques into the Creole tradition without making a fuss about it. The New York Times named it among New Orleans' 25 best right now, and a James Beard semifinalist nod followed. The food moves forward; the room pulls you back. Both things are happening at once, and that's kind of the point.

A restored church that now serves bagels, flatbreads, wine, and boozy coffee drinks instead of sermons, The Congregation is the kind of all-day cafe and community hub where dropping in for an hour routinely becomes three. The outdoor deck and yard fill up on warm Thursday evenings when there's dancing. Food trucks, a farmers market, and yoga classes round out the calendar for a place that takes the "third place" idea more literally than most.

A BYOB tasting-menu spot on a quiet South Boston corner, small enough that you can hear the chef narrate every course from the stove. No sommelier, no ceremony, no acres of white tablecloth: just a handful of seasonal courses, meat or vegetarian, with a cooking style that wanders wherever it likes. The chef is a James Beard semifinalist, which makes the bring-your-own-wine, share-with-the-next-table looseness feel like the whole point.

Challah soaked in Grand Marnier, griddled until the sugar crust cracks like a crème brûlée top, is the thing people come back for at this Southern brunch spot in Scottsdale. Catfish and grits, chicken and waffles, and a waffle so light it barely holds its own weight round out a menu that swings comfortably between sweet and savory. Weekends bring a DJ and mimosas on every table; weekdays are quieter and the wait is shorter.

The jalapeño cornbread waffles have held a spot on the menu since day one, which tells you something about the kitchen's confidence. This Wesley Heights New American spot has a Michelin listing and a James Beard semifinalist nod, and the food roams freely, from pork belly dumplings with shiso to Outer Banks scallops over couscous. The room feels unhurried, the sourcing is local without being preachy about it, and the three-course option is the move.

Shoji is a Japanese cafe in SoMa that does a quiet costume change once the offices empty out, trading lattes for a short menu of small plates and cocktails. By day the move is matcha, particularly the einspänner under a drift of whipped sweet cream. At night there are oysters, a fried chicken and egg salad sandwich, and a uni donburi, all of it easy on the wallet and the dress code. It has a few coffee honors, which seems fair.

The name is a sociologist's term for the gathering spots between home and work, and the owners take it literally. This daytime coffee shop and café shares a kitchen with the restaurant Jun, run by Top Chef alums, and rotating chef residencies mean the lunch menu shifts week to week. Pastries, salads, and matcha drinks anchor the everyday offerings, but the rotating kitchen keeps the regulars checking Instagram before they order.

A white bungalow on a quiet stretch of Second Street, with string lights on the porch and climbing plants inside, that happens to be one of Phoenix's better French brasseries. Marble tables, exposed brick, and a vinyl record spinning somewhere set the mood for oysters on the patio or baked brie and beef tartare by candlelight. The wine list pulls from around the world, which keeps the date-night crowd very happy and very unhurried.

Large metal bowls of steaming pho arrive trailing the scent of anise, and the broth is sweet enough that people come back for it the way some people return to a therapist. This Westminster pho shop splits its menu into beginner and adventurer sides, with noodle style and cut of beef chosen at the counter. The Los Angeles Times named it among California's 101 best restaurants, and the Michelin Guide has it listed too. Bring patience; the room fills fast.

Six seats, one counter, no menu to study. This omakase spot runs at a lofty price and leans into it, pairing Toyosu-sourced fish with truffles, foie gras, and wagyu tartare piled onto toasted brioche like restraint was never on the table. The nigiri, though, pulls back into a quieter edomae register where the rice does the talking. A James Beard semifinalist and Michelin Selected, it sits steps from a larger sibling that presumably lets you breathe a little more.

Beans sourced from Coffee Collective in Copenhagen anchor the menu at this coffee shop on 1st Ave South, where the space is all clean lines, blocky type, and royal blue plastic stools that somehow look intentional. The crowd skews artsy and laptop-laden, with a side of Seattleites in skinny sunglasses who came to work and stayed to stare into the middle distance. Bright, unhurried, and very Scandinavian about it all.

A miso and brown sugar oat milk latte sounds like it was invented by a committee, but the savory-sweet balance at this tiny Austin coffee trailer makes the weekend line feel reasonable. The drip and cold brew hold their own for anyone keeping things simple. Desnudo has been named among the best coffee shops in Austin by both Eater and The Infatuation, which tracks with the crowd that keeps showing up.

Antique stained glass windows filter whatever light San Francisco's summer fog is willing to spare, and the room is cheerful anyway. Early to Rise is a brunch spot in NoPa where the daily doughnut arrives warm while you wait, the French toast comes loaded with seasonal fruit and a few things creamy and crunchy, and the ambrosia salad quietly signals the chef's Southern roots. The owner does his own table rounds, coffee pot in hand, which keeps things easy.

This is a full-service American restaurant inside the Park MGM, set in a dim, two-story library lined with thousands of books that no one is allowed to check out. It feels like a movie set where someone is about to be accused of something in the study. Expect popovers, a roast chicken built for sharing, and cotton candy with the check, which is a very Vegas way to say goodnight to a room full of literature.

A scarlet lobster logo, shells painted gold and silver on the wall, and half the tables splitting one at any given hour make the signature self-evident at this Cantonese restaurant in Alhambra. Henry's is an unassuming room doing homestyle cooking that's increasingly hard to find, selected by the Michelin Guide and named to the LA Times' 101 best. Come at dinner when the full menu opens up, and ask what vegetables are in season.

The chef makes an early-morning run to a local fishmonger before most people have had coffee, and that rhythm shows in the tacos. Fish Guts is a casual taqueria where the Baja-style fish taco, battered in Modelo and French mustard, gets made to order on fresh masa tortillas. San Diego Magazine named it the city's top fish taco in 2025, which will surprise no one who has eaten one. The smoked fish dip and michelada round things out nicely.

The dining room inside La Jolla's Grande Colonial Hotel is more beach-casual than grand, which suits a crowd that keeps sunglasses on through dinner. Nine-Ten is an elegant restaurant with a Caribbean lean, running from sandwiches and salads at lunch to a tasting menu at dinner that the kitchen calls "mercy of the chef." The pastry program punches above its hotel-restaurant weight, from brunch pastries through a creamsicle dessert worth the wait.

A strip-mall Northwest Chinese spot on Convoy where you order from a QR code and then forget you were ever annoyed about it. The menu leans on lamb, hand-ripped noodles, and aged vinegar with real tartness, and the cumin lamb arrives smelling like it has opinions. It's casual, cheap, and loud with the clatter of people ordering more than they should. Plan on leftovers, because the magic travels well.

A working seafood market sits at the center of the dining room, which tells you everything about what ends up on the plate. This casual Pacific Beach seafood restaurant occupies a restored mid-century warehouse, and the menu follows whatever came off the boat, including house-made fettuccine with locally caught San Diego rock crab. The Michelin Guide has it on their radar, and the crowd skews toward regulars who know to skip the menu and ask what's freshest.

The whole Peking duck arrives lacquered and ready for ceremony, and a Chinatown institution like this one has been running that ceremony for a long time. It's a roast-meat Chinese restaurant with a big menu behind the duck, including beef chow fun, egg noodle soups, and walnut shrimp for the table. The bird also turns up in fried rice and spring rolls if you'd rather skip the full production. There's a stall at Reading Terminal Market, but the original room is the move.

The coco bread isn't on the menu, but regulars know to ask for a hunk of it to sop up the oxtail braised in brown sauce. This no-frills Jamaican lunch counter has been an old-school institution in Miami for decades, turning out clamshell containers of curry goat, jerk chicken, and flaky beef patties to a lunchtime crowd that doesn't linger. The New York Times put it on their Miami list.

Live music fills the room most nights at this Cuban cocktail bar and restaurant on Calle Ocho, where the décor slides between Havana and mid-century Miami without quite landing in either. Michelle Bernstein and cocktail veteran Julio Cabrera run the place together, which means the food and the drinks get equal attention. It holds a spot on The World's 50 Best Bars list, and the James Beard Foundation named it an Outstanding Bar Semifinalist.

A whole snapper, deep-fried twice for a crunch audible from across the room, arriving upright as if still swimming, tells you everything about what kind of soul food restaurant this is. Six tables on Staten Island, pitchers of rum punch and sangria on nearly all of them, and a dining room that always feels like a party that forgot to wait for a reason. The New York Times named it one of New York's best new restaurants in 2024.

Portland's original farm-to-table restaurant has been around forever, and after a near-death experience a couple of years ago, a social media S.O.S. brought the regulars flooding back. The dining room is a proper sit-down affair, seasonal and ingredient-driven, with a rustic bistro in back that runs a serious burger and one of the better beer lists downtown. A block from the Arlene Schnitzer, it's the obvious pre-concert answer.

Sweedeedee is a small all-day café in North Portland where the mugs are pottery, the shelves are hand-tagged, and a turntable plays records the house sometimes trades food to the neighbors at Mississippi Records for. Breakfast runs on griddled corn cakes, a thick Spanish tortilla, and a pastry case that changes daily. It is so thoroughly Portland that you may feel the urge to apologize for your phone.

A spare, unassuming Korean storefront where the chef's résumé includes Saison and Jungsik, and the menu makes no effort to hide it. This is contemporary Korean dining where a broth-poached yellowtail rosette sits a few items from fried rice threaded with squid ink and kimchi. The New York Times put it on their Restaurant List, and the room fills with people happy to order widely and share, which is exactly how you should go.

The baked Alaska arrives tableside with the kind of theater that makes you glad you dressed up. Mister Charles is an Italian-influenced French restaurant in Dallas where the room is sweeping and the menu runs from fusilli with caviar to wagyu beef Wellington, with canapes and showy presentations filling the space between. The wine list is substantial, the cocktails are deft, and nobody here is pretending this is a casual Tuesday.

The photo wall by the door, stacked with chefs, actors, and politicians, tells you everything about how long Park's has been the go-to Korean BBQ spot in LA. Servers manage the tabletop grills for you, slicing and flipping prime cuts from bulgogi to galbi, with American Wagyu for the committed. The kimchi pancakes arrive on cast-iron skillets, hot and crisp, and the cold noodles cut through all that smoke.

Dollar oysters at happy hour put Jacqueline on the map, but this Pacific Northwestern seafood restaurant on Southeast Clinton has a lot more going on. Hamachi crudo gets grilled pickled pineapple and fermented fish funk; smashed cucumbers come with Oregon dulse and whipped tofu. The room moved to a bigger space recently, which the neighborhood took as good news.

The whiteboard of daily specials is where regulars look first at this old-school Japanese restaurant and bar in the International District, an institution that has been around forever and shows no interest in pretending otherwise. No-nonsense aunties keep things in order, traditional cooks keep the kitchen honest, and the wait for a table is more or less constant. Come hungry and unhurried.

Chef Morihiro Onodera mills his own rice and throws his own ceramics, which tells you most of what you need to know about how this omakase operates. It follows a cha-kaiseki structure, composed dishes first, then nigiri, with seafood flown in from Japan. The handmade bowls and plates are his, which gives the counter a quietly personal feeling that most sushi rooms charge twice as much to approximate. A Michelin star.

A wood-burning oven does the heavy lifting at this intimate Italian steakhouse tucked into Nancy Silverton's Melrose compound. The kitchen leans hard into live fire and big cuts, with cooking that's boldly seasoned and more seasonal than you'd expect from a place where meat is basically the religion. The wine list runs deep into Italy. Booking is tight, and the room fills fast with people who clearly did not come to order a salad.

A set meal here arrives as a Korean feast built around barley rice, with banchan multiplying across the table until there's nowhere left to put your elbows. Fried kelp, acorn jelly, mung bean pancakes, and snails in vinegar are just the opening act before the soups arrive. Seasoning runs gentle, so the gochujang and sesame oil on the table are less condiment, more instruction. The New York Times put it on their Los Angeles shortlist.

Gritz Café is a small Southern breakfast spot a short drive off the Strip, where the portions are built for people who plan to nap afterward. The chicken and waffles lead the menu, but the cheesy jalapeño grits and hotlink omelets have their defenders. The dining room is tiny, so a wait is normal, though the servers move fast. The sweet potato pie travels well enough to survive airport security.

Kassi Beach House is a coastal Italian restaurant dressed up as an upscale beach shack, complete with a DJ spinning pop remixes at brunch and a steady supply of people photographing their eggs. The soft scrambled eggs with salsa verde are the quiet standout, and there's pasta for anyone who wants lunch to commit. Bottomless rosé on a poolside daybed is the move if you're prepared to treat Saturday as a project.

Tucked into an airport business park (yes, really), this contemporary restaurant from a chef who grew up in Côte d'Ivoire brings West African-inflected cooking to a town that usually runs on truffle butter and expense accounts. Wildflower vases, bare tables, and a breezy terrace set an unfussy tone. The food follows: bold spicing, real technique, prices that don't assume you're on a ski-week budget. The chef was a James Beard semifinalist in 2022.

A small banchan shop with a courtyard that turns a quick lunch into something you'll spend the afternoon on. The menu changes with whatever caught the chef's eye at the farmers' market, so the marinated okra or rolled omelet you're hoping to find may or may not show up. Korean fermentation and California produce, in a conversation neither had planned. A James Beard semifinalist for Best Chef: California.

Bottarga grated over fresh spaghetti is as close to a signature as this intimate Noe Valley Sardinian restaurant gets, though dried tuna heart shaved over fusilli gives it a run. The menu is concise, written partly in Sard, and offers a cash discount at the bottom. A neighborhood regular bought the place specifically to keep it exactly as it was, which is either very reassuring or a little telling about how attached people get.

A vintage toy car holds down the check at this casual Italian restaurant in a former auto shop on Mount Pleasant Street. The menu shifts constantly, but lamb skewers with chili oil and bubble-crusted pizzas stay put, and the gelato arrives piled improbably high. The kitchen's commitment to good ingredients is quiet but obvious. Bon Appétit named it one of America's Best New Restaurants in 2024.

Suma katsuo, a buttery fish rarely seen outside Japan, gets cold-smoked over cherry wood and finished with onion sauce, sesame, and nori at this intimate omakase counter on Prince Street. The New York Times named that sashimi course one of the top dishes of 2024. Chef Ben Chen's approach is precise without being fussy, and the room rewards the kind of guest who came to pay attention rather than to be seen.

The roadhouse on the St. Helena highway that turned a working kitchen garden into a wine country institution. Cindy Pawlcyn's casual American grill runs from grilled fish and steaks to a smoked pork sandwich, all pulled through a seasonal, garden-driven lens. The lemon-lime tart, described on the menu itself as "ridiculously tall," delivers on the promise. There's usually a wait at lunch, which says everything about the regulars who keep coming back.

Gramps Getaway is a waterfront cocktail bar under the big palapa that used to house Whiskey Joe's, with creaky floorboards that still hold decades of beach sand. Seventies rock plays, the frozen drinks are stronger than they let on, and the Brickell skyline sits across the water. The menu runs from wings to a fried chicken sandwich, and prices stay modest. Eater lists it among Miami's essential cocktail bars.

Communal tables and mismatched plates set the tone at this noodle bar on Middle Street, where the menu wanders confidently through Asia with a New England detour. Lobster wontons land in seafood curry; smoked lamb khao soi shows up alongside whatever happens to be coming off the wok that day. The room is tight, which concentrates the energy nicely. A James Beard semifinalist for Best Chef: Northeast in 2024.

The dirty martini here landed on Esquire's list of the finest in the country, which tracks: the bar occupies the old Picasso space at the Bellagio, with the fountains putting on their show just outside. It's the cocktail outpost of the Carbone empire, so the room skews dressed-up and the pours skew generous. Order the martini, watch the water, and feel no obligation to explain yourself.

The bread at this Fruitvale bánh mì shop is the whole argument: crackly crust, pillowy interior, just enough chew. Two dozen sandwiches fill the menu at prices that haven't moved in years, a minor miracle in the Bay Area. The pork meatball and egg is the one regulars point to, peppery and rich. Lines stretch out the door most days, but the staff moves them fast enough that you'll barely notice.

The spaghetti pomodoro at this Mission trattoria has its own cult following, which tells you something about how long Delfina has been doing this right. All pasta is made in-house, the wine list leans Italian with a few California strays, and a post-pandemic remodel left behind a handsome wood bar and gold accents. Casual enough for a Tuesday, but the room has enough polish that you won't feel underdressed for a date either.