The Best Places to Eat and Do in the United States

The line forms before you find the sign, which tells you most of what you need to know about this Vietnamese restaurant tucked inside Falls Church's Eden Center. Rice Paper has been an old-school institution in the Northern Virginia Vietnamese dining scene, turning out coconut curries, lemongrass chicken, and herb-heavy salads to a room that fills fast and empties slowly. The Washington Post named it among the 40 best restaurants in and around D.C.

Lobsters caught by the chef's cousin arrive within 48 hours, which goes some way toward explaining the lobster roll price. Row 34 is a seafood restaurant that does all the expected things, clam chowder and halibut and calamari, then goes a little further: house-smoked fish, cured things, pâté, saltines baked in-house. It's the kind of place where the extra effort shows up in the details rather than on a placard announcing it.

A vegan sushi bar and izakaya in the Mission where the kitchen treats a vegetable as a puzzle to solve rather than a garnish to apologize for. The team ferments, pickles, and sears produce into nigiri, rolls, and ramen that hold their own on the merits, not on goodwill. The room is sleek and lively, drawing skeptics alongside the converted. A Michelin Selected Restaurant.

Named for the Roman street where the chef grew up, this Dorchester trattoria is built around the conviction that Lazio doesn't get nearly enough credit. The team makes its own pasta, bakes sourdough, roasts porchetta, and somehow squeezes brunch bombolini into the rotation. The cacio e pepe is a four-ingredient argument that nobody needs to improve on cacio e pepe. The New York Times put it on their Boston shortlist, which the regulars on Dorchester Ave probably already knew.

The hot ham with melted Swiss on a bun costs $7, which tells you almost everything about this retro burger shop. George Motz has spent his career obsessing over regional American hamburger joints, and the menu reflects that slightly unhinged dedication, with monthly tributes to obscure local styles and an off-menu grilled cheese that hides a burger inside. The New York Times named it one of New York's best new restaurants of 2024.

Housemade corn tortillas are the baseline here, warm and soft, and everything else is a riff on the form that lands somewhere between street food and genuine curiosity. Macheen is a taqueria operating as a pop-up, rotating through Boyle Heights and Smorgasburg, with a menu that might pile daikon pickles and grilled rib-eye onto one taco and sweet smoky beets al pastor onto another. The New York Times put it on their 25 best L.A. restaurants list, which tracks.

The lechon arrives as a pinwheel of pork with skin so shatteringly crisp it sounds like a problem. Lenox is a Caribbean restaurant in Belltown doing Nuyorican cooking with palm-print wallpaper, rattan fixtures, and a rum-heavy cocktail list that leans hard into the beach-bar premise. The spice mixes are made in-house, the piña coladas get poured generously, and Bon Appétit named it one of America's Best New Restaurants in 2025.

CJ & D's is a tomato pie counter tucked inside Cartesian Brewing on East Passyunk, which means you order in person and then drink beer while a pie is made, one at a time. Trenton-style puts the cheese down first and the sauce on top, an arrangement that looks like a mistake until you see the thin, blistered crust. There are four pies on the menu, so the hardest decision is how many to commit to before the first one lands.

The blonde wood sushi bar is the room's focal point, and the chefs behind it move like they've been doing this forever. Miyake is a classic Japanese restaurant on Fore Street where the kitchen fuses traditional sushi with French and Italian technique and leans hard into Maine seafood. Every seat fills fast, and the counter draws regulars who know exactly what they're ordering before they sit down.

Mahogany double doors shipped from Puerto Rico anchor the entrance to this Puerto Rican cocktail bar in the Old Port, where salsa and merengue fill the room and the tiled bar is the obvious place to sit. The drinks lean inventive, the food is serious enough to linger over, and the whole thing has a regional Spirited Award to its name. Portland has seafood shacks covered; this is doing something else entirely.

The counter seats maybe a dozen people, the room is barely wider than a hallway, and it runs noon until late without a break. Petit Trois is a French bistro in Hollywood doing the classics straight: escargots, steak frites, a legendary omelet. French hip-hop plays while the kitchen ignores it completely and turns out textbook bistro cooking. The "Big Mec," a double cheeseburger finished with bordelaise, is the one concession to the neighborhood.

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.

Schulte & Herr is a small, low-key German restaurant on Cumberland Avenue where fresh rye bread and a paprika-heavy quark spread arrive before you've finished sitting down. It's BYOB with no corkage fee, so the real planning happens at a wine shop beforehand. The plates are homestyle and generous, built around things like sauerbraten that sends its gravy into the bread dumplings. Expect to leave needing a nap, and not minding.

The ceviche is the obvious draw, but the skirt steak with chimichurri and cheese-mashed potatoes quietly argues that this is as much a steakhouse as a ceviché bar. Anthony Lamas's Latin American restaurant on Bardstown Road has been around long enough to predate Louisville's dining boom and still fills the room on its own terms. He earned a James Beard semifinalist nod in 2022, which tells you something about how seriously the kitchen takes the menu.

The blue-painted building with a red neon sign on Shattuck Avenue does not undersell what's inside. This is a sousaku izakaya, meaning the menu leans into New Japanese cooking, the kind you'd find in Tokyo or Osaka right now: hot pot, skewers, fried fish cakes, seasonal sashimi added only because regulars kept asking. The menu rotates constantly, which makes repeat visits feel less like loyalty and more like good sense.

The injera arrives with every order, a spongy sourdough flatbread that doubles as plate and utensil, and first-timers get a menu with a glossary to help them figure out what they've just ordered. This Ethiopian restaurant has been an ASU rite of passage for what feels like forever, a family-run strip mall spot that leans hard into vegetarian dishes and fragrant stews. The dining room is cozy and carpeted, and the coffee ceremony is not decorative.

A Mexican restaurant in a converted brick building in Garfield, where the large windows keep things bright enough that you don't feel like you're day-drinking when you order a Paloma at noon. Gallo Blanco runs all three meals, so the crowd shifts from coffee-and-eggs regulars to the burrito-and-margarita contingent by midday. The guacamole and chips make a persuasive case for arriving hungry and starting slow.

The cardstock to-go box comes with chopstick handles built into the sides, which is either the cleverest packaging in Phoenix or a sign that the city has simply been doing lunch wrong. This grab-and-go dumpling shop on a downtown corner keeps the menu short: pick your base, pick your filling, pick a sauce. The whole thing runs about thirteen dollars, which buys considerably more than whatever sad situation you had going on at your desk.

The chefs pause after every course to hold up the whole fish they just cut from, which is either theater or education depending on your mood. Hidden Omakase is an 18-seat omakase counter tucked inside a strip mall, where Marcos Juarez, an Uchi alum, runs through nigiri that pulls Thai, Vietnamese, and Latin influences into the lineup. BYOB with a corkage fee, so plan accordingly.

Diners are told to eat fast, and at a handroll shop this good, that's not a hardship. Temaki Den sits inside The Source market hall in RiNo, its dark palette carving out something moodier than the food-hall format might suggest. The kitchen rolls temaki one at a time, to order, with aburi nigiri on the side for good measure. The nori stays crisp for exactly as long as it needs to, which is the whole point.

Ten tables, Anita Baker on the speakers, and a basket of house-made potato chips arriving before the tasting menu begins, which tells you most of what you need to know about the vibe. This fine dining spot in downtown Petaluma runs four or seven courses of California cooking with French technique, from a chef trained at Institut Paul Bocuse. The Chronicle's Top 100 lists have noticed. Go for the longer menu and don't skip the Parker House rolls.

The handwashing station near the door is not decorative; injera this fresh demands clean hands and full attention. This Ethiopian restaurant on Esplanade Ridge fills its corner spot with wicker light fixtures, natural textiles, and wood tables with mustard cushions. The injera is made in house daily, the sambusas arrive golden and stuffed, and the vegetable combination platter is how you learn the menu before you know what to order.

The original Crack Shack is a counter-service fried chicken spot on Kettner, built around an outdoor courtyard with picnic tables, lawn games, and the general mood of a backyard cookout run by someone with a spreadsheet. You order sandwiches, bone-in trays, or a bowl for the one friend who's being good, and everything involves pasture-raised chicken. It's casual, loud, and fine in flip-flops.

The pressed-tin ceilings and Art Deco mirrors have been pulling SoHo together since the nineties, and Balthazar still runs the same play: a classic French brasserie where the onion soup gratinée and steak frites are the point, not a consolation prize. The room is cavernous and warm, the crowd ranges from fashion people to tourists who did their homework, and the whole thing hums along like it has nothing left to prove.

Marinated skewers sit in the case waiting their turn over live coals, and a haze of mesquite smoke follows the grill man out of the kitchen on a good night. This Armenian kabob counter on 16th Street landed on the New York Times restaurant list and keeps turning up on every Phoenix rundown worth reading. Combos come with enough meat, basmati, and Shirazi salad to feed two people, and regulars treat first-timers like a conversion project.

Jollof rice finished with herby lamb chops or jerk cauliflower is the kind of menu decision that takes longer than it should. This West African-Californian restaurant in Inglewood grew out of a pandemic pop-up, and the cooking still carries that energy, all sticky honey chicken berbere and root beer-braised short ribs with whipped yams. The room got a modern refresh and the cocktails are genuinely cooling. The Los Angeles Times put it among the best restaurants in California.

The menu answers a question most Denver restaurants don't ask: what if you just focused on Emilia-Romagna? This RiNo dinner spot is the younger sibling of Restaurant Olivia, and it carries the same low-key elegance while going deep on the region that gave the world prosciutto di Parma and Parmigiano. Traditional stuffed pastas, griddled flatbreads, braised meats, and a Lambrusco list that will make you rethink sparkling red wine.

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.

Three separate dining rooms, three separate reservations to even consider: teppanyaki, sushi omakase, or traditional washoku, each run as its own operation. The spirits company behind the whisky built an elegant Japanese restaurant in Waikīkī that takes itself seriously without making you feel like you wandered in underdressed. The drink menu is, predictably, excellent. Pick your room before you call.

Marble bar, exposed brick, and blue velvet banquettes make this Bolton Hill neighborhood restaurant look as good as the brownstones outside. The menu swings from Caesar steak tartare to crispy pork knuckle with beer gravy, and a wagyu brisket-chuck burger with smoked tomato-bacon jam has earned its own following. Tamarind-lime daiquiris help with the decision-making. Baltimore Magazine named it one of the city's top restaurants for 2026.

The Indian-inflected Italian restaurant in the Highlands neighborhood where the chef's masala aioli turns up on elk tartare and the pasta always involves goat. Her husband painstakingly sources small-producer wines from across Italy and makes his own amari in-house, which is either obsessive or exactly right. The room is intimate and the hospitality famously warm. A James Beard semifinalist for Outstanding Hospitality, and the reputation makes sense from the first drink forward.

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.

High ceilings and big windows flood this New American neighborhood restaurant with afternoon light, and candlelit booths handle the evening shift. The rotating dinner menu runs from clams to pasta to brick chicken, and the bar pours cocktails serious enough to justify a second round. Lunch added focaccia sandwiches and grandma-style pizza slices, which turned a quietly beloved dinner spot into something the whole city suddenly had opinions about.

A converted warehouse in Little Italy with barrel-vaulted ceilings and enough candlelight to make everyone look good, Herb & Wood is a wood-fired New American restaurant where the menu swings from blistered pizzas to venison over buttermilk polenta without losing its footing. The PB&C dessert, chocolate-whiskey cake with peanut butter mousse, has its own following. The Michelin Guide has it on their list, and the room tends to fill early with people who look like they come here often.

The smashburger here started as a pop-up, and the crispy-edged, cheese-laced results made a permanent address feel inevitable. This is a casual counter-service spot on Washington Avenue doing smashburgers with special sauce, loaded fries, and milkshakes in a room that leans into the gritty aesthetic of a New York bodega. The chopped cheese quietly competes with the burgers for most people's attention by the second visit.

House-made blue and yellow corn tortillas arrive before you've even thought about ordering, which tells you something about how this Oaxacan restaurant in Riverdale operates. The room is modern and low-lit, with clay masks and pottery that nod to the region without tipping into theme park territory. Mezcal gets serious attention at the bar, and the dark mole negro on the enmoladas de pato is the kind of sauce that takes days to make.

The wine list is a wall of bottles you grab yourself on the way to your table, which tells you roughly everything about how this steakhouse operates. Carne sits in RiNo and divides its menu into Baller Moves and Normies, with a $175 tomahawk firmly in the former camp. Cuts come from Argentina, Mexico, and beyond. The tableside martini cart arrives with vintage Playboy magazines on it, in case the vibe needed clarifying.

A proper Irish chip-cutting machine crossed the Atlantic so the fish and chips here would be right. McGonagle's is a neighborhood tavern in Dorchester, a notch upscale but nowhere near precious, where the chef trained under Heston Blumenthal and is quietly making the case that Irish food is more than anyone assumes. The spice bag, Dublin's legendary late-night fried chicken jumble, arrives in a paper bag, fries and all, and it will reorder your priorities.

Orders get called out over a crackling intercom at this warehouse-sized Indo canteen and grocery store in Berkeley, where metal trays and disposable sporks set the tone immediately. The chaat is the reason to come, those hollow puffs and tamarind-drenched bites that make the whole elaborate category make sense. Thalis, tandoori chicken, and a glass case of colorful sweets fill out the picture. The San Francisco Chronicle has it in their Top 100 Bay Area restaurants.

Flaky roti canai folded and crisped to order, torn apart and dragged through curry, is the move that explains Phat Eatery in a single gesture. This casual Malaysian street food spot in Katy draws a crowd happy to share plates of Hainanese chicken, beef rendang, and satay across a loud, affordable table. The chef was a James Beard semifinalist for Best Chef: Texas, which for a strip-mall canteen in the Houston suburbs is a sentence worth sitting with.

Part coffee shop, part design store, part Taschen outpost, Dialog sits at the base of a mural-wrapped building on Roosevelt Row and dares you to categorize it. The matcha is stone-ground and ceremonial-grade, with baristas reaching for a scale before the whisk ever touches the bowl. Beans come from Stereoscope in LA. Browsers drift between arched light fixtures and esoteric objects while something simmers on the U-shaped 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.

A coffee shop where the décor has opinions about where you sit. PHX Cat Cafe is a nonprofit cat lounge in downtown Phoenix where a rotating crew of adoptable cats nap in elevated perches, bat at toys, and occasionally judge you from across the room. The small admission fee buys you time among the felines, decent coffee, and access to events like cat yoga and drag bingo. Over a thousand cats have found homes through the place, which gives the whole thing a satisfying excuse.

A 1982 Piaggio Apé truck imported from Italy parks in the garden and pulls espresso, which tells you most of what you need to know about Pueblo's priorities. This plant shop and coffee stop on Grand Avenue occupies a lush warehouse where indoor tropicals crowd every corner and a vintage gardening library invites you to stay longer than planned. The pottery, succulents, and houseplants are the main event, but the outdoor patio has a way of making an errand feel like an afternoon.

Despite the name, nobody comes to this strip-mall Thai spot for the wings. The real draw is the menu, a laminated binder that wanders through Thai, Cambodian, Vietnamese, Laotian, and Chinese cooking and has photos of everything, which helps, because you'll need help. Wear whatever you wore to work, bring an appetite, and pick something within five minutes, since the binder will happily outlast your lunch hour.

The tin pressed ceiling and flickering candles do a lot of the work before the food arrives. This Brooklyn Heights neighborhood tavern has the bones of an old bar and the kitchen instincts to match, running from duck poutine croquettes to braised rabbit without making either feel out of place. The kind of room where regulars settle in for the burger and stay through the blackout cake, and nobody seems to mind.

Fake flowers cascade over the entrance and hang above the kitchen at this Palestinian restaurant on Atlantic Avenue, where the decor and the cooking share the same go-big instinct. The mezze platter is enormous by design, the saj bread comes hot from a domed oven by the door, and the rice dishes arrive in mounds built for sharing. It's a Michelin-selected room, and the crowd tends to arrive hungry and in groups.

Cute tile floors and globe lights in a relaxed Old City row house, and the menu reads like someone just got back from Lyon and had a lot of feelings about it. Chef Christopher Kearse runs a modern French bistro where escargot and frog legs share the card with dry-aged duck, all handled with a genuinely classical hand. Grab a bar seat up front for snacks if you're not committing to the full dining room.

The build-your-own bouquet bar is the first thing you notice, a wall of loose stems you pull and arrange yourself while your coffee order is being made. This is a coffee and flower shop in downtown Phoenix, the kind of concept that sounds precious until you're standing in it and it actually works. The rose latte has become something of a signature. Breakfast and lunch round it out, and private floristry classes are available for groups.

You enter through the back of a neighboring cafe, down a hallway, through a wooden door, and suddenly you're somewhere else entirely. This moody Oak Cliff speakeasy-style cantina stocks only bottles sourced from Mexico, and the cocktail menu is organized by historical era, walking you through the evolution of Mexican drinking culture. A James Beard Outstanding Bar semifinalist, it also does pre-Hispanic Oaxacan small plates for when the mezcal needs company.

The malai rigatoni, ridged noodles in a creamy tomato masala, is what half the room orders without looking at the menu. Pijja Palace is a full-on Indian sports bar doing bar pies, hot wings, and dosa-battered onion rings from a ground-floor spot in a Silver Lake Comfort Inn, which sounds like a bit, but isn't. The crowd is loud, the games are on, and the cardamom soft serve closes things out. A James Beard semifinalist for Best New Restaurant.

The dry-aging cabinet behind the counter holds fish for up to thirty days, which is either alarming or the whole point, depending on your disposition. Friends Only is a ten-seat omakase in the Tenderloin with cocktails built around black truffle amaro and a staff that can explain the science while you eat. The chef behind Akiko's runs it, and the room feels like a dinner party where the invitation cost several hundred dollars.

A volcanic stone installation cascades from the ceiling of this sleek modern Japanese restaurant in Midtown Center, where the lighting is calibrated precisely enough to make everyone look good. The menu runs from robata-grilled skewers to sushi, and the Japanese whiskey list is long enough to require a strategy. The kind of room that reads more New York than D.C., which the crowd seems to know.

A neon sign reading "Bless Your Heart" anchors the bar, which tells you exactly the kind of contemporary Southern restaurant this is. The menu leans hard into local vegetables and whatever the season is doing, with dishes that manage to be creative without being precious about it. The chef earned a James Beard semifinalist nod, and the Michelin Guide has taken notice too. Date-night crowd, candlelit tables, the works.

B & M is a Caribbean grocery where the restaurant is wherever the chef happens to be, which is the kitchen at the back. You walk past the shelves, lean in, and tell her what you want, and she returns with oxtail or curry goat over rice and peas, or wrapped in a roti. Cow foot soup turns up some days. The pepper sauce is bottled in-house and sold at the register, so keep a tissue handy. Order is cheap, casual, and done standing up.

Concrete walls, a neutrals-only palette, and an LA sensibility that landed in Wedgewood-Houston: Cafe Babu is a coffee shop that knows exactly what it looks like and leans into it. The chai runs strong and spicy, and the signature latte gets a hit of cardamom syrup. Pastries and sandwiches carry the daytime shift; by evening the menu pivots to cocktails and small bites, which makes the patio, a Nashville Scene Best of Nashville winner, work a little harder.

Retrograde is a bright, tidy coffee shop on Dickerson Pike that has quietly become the new gathering spot for Nashville's remote workers, who roam in search of an outlet and a flat white. The toast does some of the work: whipped feta and prosciutto, with spice and olive oil, the sort of thing a Germantown brunch charges extra for. Expect laptops, low stakes, and a very full table of people who are definitely about to reply to that email.

Retrograde is a bright, tidy coffee shop on Clifton Ave that has become the new headquarters for West Nashville's remote workers, who migrated here after a beloved spot in The Nations closed. The laptops outnumber the pastries, but the whipped feta and prosciutto toast, finished with spice and olive oil, tastes like brunch from a pricier neighborhood without the wait. Nashville Scene named it Best Thing on Toast.

This is a counter-service taco shop built on Tijuana street food, where the tortillas are made by hand and the meat comes off an open flame in plain sight. It has branched out across the county, so the downtown original often has a line at lunch, and ordering online is how people dodge it. The tacos are palm-sized, the California burrito is not, and it comes stacked with fries like a dare.

Booths upholstered like living-room couches and plates finished with flowers signal that this is not your father's chophouse. Be.Stéak.Ă is an Italian-leaning steakhouse in Campbell where the menu wanders through the Mediterranean before landing firmly on meat. The patio has a fireplace and corrugated steel ceilings, and the Ramos Fizz is reportedly shaken for ten full minutes, which is either dedication or performance art.

A Lebanese restaurant on Capitol Park named for the family matriarch, Leila leans into home-cooking warmth rather than white-tablecloth formality. The New York Times called out the Lebanese Sundae among the best dishes eaten across the country in 2024: rose ice cream with orange blossom water hidden under a cloud of fairy floss, the whole thing buried in pistachios, arriving at the table looking like it has somewhere to be.

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.

A sourdough starter that's been going for decades anchors the bread program at Christopher Kostow's wood-fired California restaurant in Saint Helena, where nearly everything on the menu passes through flames at some point, including the soft serve. The courtyard, strung with lights and wrapped in greenery, adds heated yurts when the valley cools down. The cheeseburger has its own following, and the soft serve is not an afterthought.

The Ethiopian coffee service, brought to the table with ceremony, is a good sign you're in a homestyle Ethiopian restaurant that takes its cues seriously. The family team runs a warm, unfussy room in Miami Gardens, turning out doro wat and shiro on a spread of sour injera. The New York Times put it on their Miami list, which feels right for a place that quietly fills a gap the size of Miami-Dade County.

The frita at this old-school Cuban cafeteria on Calle Ocho is a smash burger built Havana-style: beef patty seasoned with cumin and paprika, crispy potato strings, diced onion, and a soft Cuban bun. The founder, now in his late eighties, still takes his afternoon glass of wine at the end of the counter. The New York Times put it on their Miami list, alongside the other half of a local argument that runs the way Philly's cheesesteak debate does.