The Best Places to Eat and Do in the United States

Two brothers who grew up dreaming of vines in Provence eventually landed on a mountaintop in Paso Robles and planted Cabernet Sauvignon. The estate sits high enough that the elevation feels like part of the wine itself, and the tasting experience leans into that drama. Reserve ahead, because showing up unannounced is not the move here.

Freshly baked pita lands on the table almost before you've settled in, which is either a warning or a promise at this upmarket Lebanese restaurant in the Flatiron. The name means "tell me" in colloquial Arabic, and the format backs that up: sharing plates built around hot and cold meze, hummus in several moods, baba ghanoush, fattoush, falafel. Mains like seared lamb chops reward anyone who holds back.

The Coppola family's Napa estate is the kind of place that makes wine tasting feel like a film set, which is more or less what it is. Guests sip through a Bordeaux-influenced collection inside the redesigned Athenaeum or at courtyard pergolas overlooking vineyards and a fountain pool. The clever bit: model boats for kids in the water while the adults handle the serious business. A 50 Discovery from The 50.

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.

Some of the oldest vines in the country cling to a ridge 800 meters up in the Santa Cruz Mountains, which is either romantic or vertigo-inducing depending on your relationship with switchback roads. Ridge pours on a sun-soaked terrace with Silicon Valley spread below, a genuinely old-school California winery that helped upend French wine supremacy at the 1976 Judgment of Paris blind tasting. Come for the views, stay for the Cabernet.

Hip-hop plays over a 20-seat sushi bar, which sets the tone before the fish even arrives. Shuko is an omakase spot where the team, veterans of Masa, runs two tasting menus: a straight sushi and sashimi course, or a fuller kaiseki route with composed dishes alongside the nigiri. Both come with optional wine and sake pairings. The meal ends with apple pie, a quiet signal that the reverence for Tokyo tradition only goes so far.

The visitor center, designed by Javier Barba with exposed rock walls, grand arches, and glass framing the Vaca Mountains, is quietly showing off, and it has every right to. This is a wine estate winery tour and tasting in the Napa Valley pocket where the 1976 Judgment of Paris blind tasting humbled the French, with a Cabernet Sauvignon that nobody in the room was supposed to pick first.

Leather, iron, and glass fill the dining room at this upscale Japanese izakaya on Madison Avenue, where the sharing format means robata skewers and pristine sushi on shaved ice arrive at the table more or less continuously. The black cod wrapped in hoba leaf has become a signature across the brand's global outposts. Desserts, meanwhile, have their own Instagram following, which tells you something about the clientele and the lighting.

Nautical decor that stops short of kitsch anchors this seafood restaurant on the Southwest waterfront, where the patio looks straight out over the marina. The menu pulls from Chesapeake waters and a D.C. urban fish farm, so northern puffer fish arrives whole and crispy fried, and a Maryland crab crumpet nods to the place's Scottish sister spot. Save room for the Virginia peanut tiramisu, which sounds like a dare and tastes like a good idea.

A neighborhood pizzeria in Kenmore that turns out both wood-fired Neapolitan and Detroit-style pies, Jay's lands at number 14 on 50 Top Pizza's world list without any apparent interest in making a fuss about it. The Neapolitan crust is airy and light, the Detroit version thick-edged and properly crispy, and the team takes the dough seriously enough that the rest follows. Order online only, no phone calls, which keeps things moving.

Both the bartender and the chef are named Hugo, which tells you something about this cocktail bar and seafood spot in Bishop Arts. The cocktail program gets the same obsessive treatment as the kitchen, where oysters and small plates keep people settled at the bar longer than they planned. Someone here is pureeing salted plantains for a rum cocktail reduction, and that level of commitment runs through all dozen house cocktails.

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 menu is the size of a sandwich board, which tells you something about the ambition. Grill 23 is an old-school fine dining steakhouse housed in a grand multi-story room, all white tablecloths and uniformed servers in perpetual motion. Dry-aged steaks are the obvious move, and the wine cellar runs to nearly 2,000 bottles. The kind of place Bostonians go when someone else is paying, or when they want to feel like someone else is.

A 30-seat Eastern Mediterranean spot in Cambridge where the pantry does a lot of the heavy lifting: house spice blends, regional olive oils, grape molasses. The meze-forward menu leans Lebanese in spirit, with dishes like shish tawouk and eggplant fatteh that taste like someone cared about every sourcing decision without needing you to know it. Small, snug, and quietly serious about what's on the table.

French classics served in a dining room that looks out over Lake Michigan, with escargot, foie gras, and steak frites on a menu that hasn't chased any trends and isn't embarrassed about it. Lake Park Bistro is the kind of formal French restaurant Milwaukee keeps in its back pocket for anniversaries and quiet celebrations, where the room does a lot of the heavy lifting and the kitchen handles the rest.

The sunchoke doughnuts with XO gouda are reportedly un-removable from the menu, which tells you something about this Davis Square wine bar. The list leans toward small producers and natural winemakers, and the staff actually know it. Small plates from the kitchen are the kind of thing a food scientist might dream up on a generous budget. A James Beard Outstanding Bar semifinalist for 2026.

A strip-mall butcher shop and deli in Newport Beach where the pastrami is cured in-house and the beef for the smash burger gets ground the same day. The Italian sub runs through Genoa, coppa, and soppressata, and the rotating specials board keeps things interesting. Regulars who already know their order fill the counter fast. Cheese, charcuterie, and house-made salads line the cases for the road.

The hidden back garden patio is reason enough to book a table, but the kitchen earns its own case: a farm-to-table wine bar in Capitol Hill that's been sourcing from local farmers since before that phrase appeared on every menu in Denver. The wine list leans toward sustainable, off-the-beaten-path producers, and the food shifts with what's actually growing nearby. Regulars treat the wintertime cassoulet like a seasonal event.

Mudgie's is a Corktown sandwich counter and wine shop, which is a combination that sounds like a compromise and works like a plan. The big patio gets a seasonal tiki bar and live music in summer, and Sundays bring a brunch menu where the sandwiches show up wearing fried eggs. It's casual, order-at-the-counter territory, with a James Beard Outstanding Hospitality semifinal nod on the record.

Four sisters from Afghanistan run this casual, art-filled cafe on busy Fairview Avenue, where the name is a nickname for saffron and the menu behaves accordingly. Steamed mantoo with garlic sour cream sits near avocado toast on Afghan bread and a pistachio opera cake, which is the only place that sentence has ever been true. The baker was a James Beard semifinalist for Outstanding Baker.

The move here is mon nhau, Vietnamese bar food that runs to pork-stuffed chicken wings, snails in salted egg yolk, and fries drowning in brisket and garlic butter. The pho shots, vodka and beef broth, set the tone for everything else. This Harvey Park kitchen and bar keeps the pho and bánh mì around for the cautious, but the menu's whole subtext is that caution is overrated. Bring people you like enough to share a three-liter soju tower with.

Rebel Rebel is a tiny natural wine bar tucked into the shipping-container-sized stalls of Bow Market, and it works as a salon as much as a place to drink. Talks with food writers, chocolate pairings, and a Beaujolais Nouveau party where pot-au-feu comes out of a cauldron are all on the calendar. It's casual, the glasses are small-producer pours, and it has been a James Beard semifinalist for wine and beverage programs.

Pastel walls and a view of downtown Dallas set the tone at Mirador, an elegant tea room where the finger sandwiches arrive in forms you haven't quite seen before: wagyu on milk bread, foie gras mousse tucked into a macaron. The chef's whimsical take on classic tea service draws a lunch crowd that takes the occasion seriously, as they should. The patio earns its own following on sunny afternoons.

The pastrami chop cheese bagel sandwich with sport peppers, provolone, and a house special sauce is the kind of thing you think about on the drive home. This Walker's Point corner bagel shop goes well beyond schmears, running latkes, lox, matzo ball soup, and fried spiced sugar bagels through a menu that feels more like a deli daydream than a quick stop. Casual, counter-service, and busy on weekends.

The twice-cooked pork here is the thing to order first: thin, crispy cutlets in a glaze that toggles between sweet wine and sharp vinegar, a signature dish of China's Dongbei region. This casual Chinese cafe in University City has become a go-to for regional cooking that doesn't smooth its edges for anyone, with bold Chengdu chicken and hot crisp fish rounding out a menu that makes the drive from anywhere in St. Louis feel like a reasonable life choice.

Northern Thai cooking in a city that already loves Thailand but tends to stop at the central-region classics. Chiang Mai focuses on the distinct traditions of the north, and three aunties running the open kitchen with unhurried precision are the main event. The bronzed pork sausages and green papaya salad are there for the familiar, but the menu goes further than most St. Louis Thai spots dare.

The charcoal smell hits before you've found your seat, which is a fine way to set expectations at this intimate dinner spot on Delmar. The open kitchen keeps things honest, the lighting keeps things romantic, and a dessert cart actually wheels around the room like it's 1974. Dishes are stripped back on purpose, a few components, no fuss. The clay pot Negroni is a good place to start deciding you'll come back.

The 900-degree wood-burning oven came all the way from central Maine, which tells you something about priorities. This woman- and LGBTQ-owned pizza operation splits its time between a West Allis takeaway spot and a roving life of pop-ups, beer gardens, and farm nights. Hot honey from their own bees goes on the cup-and-char pepperoni; Detroit-style pies come out with scorched edges and racing stripes of sauce.

A server in a druidic robe strikes the floor with a staff, lifts a smoking lantern, and produces your cocktail from inside it. The theatrics are a genuine feature, not a phase. Frazer's is a comfortable neighborhood restaurant in Benton Park, the kind that holds steak frites and pork schnitzel alongside a rotating specials board and a serious seafood selection, while the bar is clearly having the most fun in the room.

An old-school deli in St. Louis's historic Italian-American neighborhood, Gioia's has been feeding the same families for so long that when a James Beard America's Classics award arrived, locals mostly just smiled politely. The hot salami sandwich, made from a house recipe of beef, pig's head, and spices and sliced to order, is what everyone comes for. Pick your bread, pick your cheese, and try not to overthink 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.

Roasted corn lands on the table before you've even opened the menu, which is a good sign at this Peruvian restaurant tucked into Old St. Charles. Chef Andrew Cisneros runs a menu built around ceviche, fried seafood, and slow-cooked pork, with shortbread alfajores from a local bakeshop closing things out. The room draws a crowd that looks genuinely happy to be there, which in St. Charles on a weeknight is its own kind of achievement.

Wood-burning oven margherita pizza and tortellini en brodo share a menu at this family-friendly pizza and pasta osteria, the kind of place that makes you wonder why anyone ever chose between a slice shop and an Italian trattoria. The chef collective behind it, a genuine collaboration rather than a celebrity vanity project, has serious fine-dining pedigree, and the result is crowd-pleasing food that doesn't talk down to anyone. Easy parking, which in St. Louis is half the battle.

Yunnan province cooking, where the flavor map runs spicy and sour rather than rich and savory, is the whole point at this fast-casual spot. The chef grew up near the borders of Thailand and Vietnam, and her handmade dumplings, chile eggplant, and lime-ginger peanut salad taste like it. A veggie sampler lets you graze across most of the menu in one go, which is lucky, because narrowing it down is hard.

The mini cheese empanadas arrive flaky outside and molten within, and the sampler plate is basically the menu's argument for ordering one of everything. Mayo Ketchup is a casual Puerto Rican and Dominican spot on Olive Street where the tostones come topped with avocado and pickled onion, the taquenos are cheese pulled through pastry dough, and the sauces range from guava to herbaceous cilantro. A good place to lose track of time deciding what to eat next.

The xiao long bao arrive as tightly pleated, hand-folded pouches that release a rush of pork broth the moment you bite in. This is a casual noodle and dumpling shop where Sichuan heat is the organizing principle, landing not just on the tongue but behind the eyes. The chile oil wontons and dry-rubbed wings deliver real numbness, the satisfying kind you talk about afterward. Ramen and other noodles round things out, though the spice-forward dishes are what most people can't stop thinking about.

The broth in the tonkotsu is described as the color of the inside of a cloud, which is the kind of detail that earns its place. This ramen and pho shop was built with serious intent: the team behind Vietnamese institution Mai Lee brought in a renowned ramen consultant and worked with Sun Noodle on the recipe. Seven ramen styles anchor the menu, with pho, banh mi, and crab rangoon filling out the rest. A thorough lunch.

Pappy's is a midtown barbecue spot built around pork ribs, dry-rubbed, smoked low and slow over fruitwood, and finished with just a whisper of glaze, no sauce pooling anywhere near them. The classic sides, baked beans, fried corn, applesauce, hold their own beside all that smoke. Lines form early and move steadily, which tells you something about how St. Louis feels about this place.

The main dining room of this old-school red-sauce Italian spot is encrusted in crystals, which tells you everything about the vibe before you've ordered a drink. Leo at the bar will talk you into a sambuca shot, Isabella will remember your order from last time, and the owner himself is probably seating you. The menu hasn't changed in years, and nobody's complaining.

The breakfast sandwich here is finished with sea salt that catches in the griddled sourdough's crags, keeping the salty and sweet separate rather than letting them blur together. That level of attention is what drew crowds at Tower Grove Farmers Market before this bakery-cafe had walls. Bialys and sprouted-grain English muffins, milled from local grain, come out of the kitchen the same way: unhurried and precise.

A Forno Bravo dome oven running around 700 degrees is the whole argument here. Wy'east is a pizza shop in Washington Heights where the chef came up under Portland's Apizza Scholls and brought long-fermented, natural-ingredient pies to Milwaukee. The char comes in four shades of brown, the sag is minimal, and the cheese-to-topping ratio gets the kind of attention most people reserve for something important.

The piña colada here is not the one you've been avoiding. Yellowbelly is a tropical cocktail bar and restaurant on Lindell where mezcal, rum, passionfruit, and coconut show up balanced and thought-through rather than sticky-sweet. A jungle mural and serious plant situation set the mood, and the food, fish tacos and salmon tostadas and the like, holds its own alongside the drinks. It's the kind of place that makes a Tuesday feel like a decent idea.

A cool marble bar greets you before you've even found your table, and the room behind it, skylighted and hung with art, reads as elegant without being airless. This is a polished American dining room in Kalorama where the menu follows the seasons and the service stays warm instead of formal. The martinis are serious, and the pastry program gives you an actual reason to stay for dessert.

Four custom-built smokers anchor this sprawling East End barbecue joint, which runs a Tex-Mex menu alongside the classic Texas lineup so you can follow brisket enchiladas with a meat plate and call it research. There's a beer garden and live music too, which means an afternoon here has a way of becoming an evening. The Michelin Guide has it selected, and the Houston Chronicle put it on its top 100 list. Come with a plan, then abandon it at the counter.

The views of Mission Bay and the Giants' ballpark hit you before the menu does, which is saying something at this fine dining Italian in Mission Rock. The room leans into sun-faded Tuscan coastal tones, warm wood, and low light that flatters everyone. Pasta is the kitchen's clearest argument: hand-rolled pici in slow-cooked garlic and tomato, Dungeness crab orzo cooked risotto-style. Esquire named the martini one of the country's finest, which gives you somewhere to start.

The salsa bar alone could justify a visit: nearly a dozen house-made salsas, each in its own small cup, running from tangy pineapple to smoky morita to a bracingly fresh serrano. Casa Corazon is a gourmet Southern Mexican restaurant tucked into a small red building on Phoenix's 16th Street corridor, where the menu leans into regional dishes and pairs naturally with Mexican wine or a fresh-fruit margarita. Eater counts it among Phoenix's best.

The Ninfarita has been mixed the same way since the early 1970s, and Houston would riot if that changed. This Navigation Boulevard Tex-Mex institution is credited with bringing fajitas into the national conversation, a fact locals mention with the quiet pride of a sports championship. Order the tacos a la Ninfa, the original play, and the frozen margarita that started the whole legend.

Villa Arcos is a small red shack on Navigation in the East End that serves breakfast tacos wrapped in foil, the way nature and the neighborhood intended. The flour tortillas are soft and stuffed past reason, and you order a couple at the window for a few bucks. Politicians, construction crews, and recent Montrose arrivals all stand in the same line, which is about as bipartisan as Houston gets before 9 a.m.

Carts trundle through this spacious Cantonese dim sum hall on weekends, and by midday the entrance is already a bottleneck of people clutching numbered tickets. Point at what rolls past: lacquered duck, chewy lo mein, dumplings, fried wontons. The servers are moving fast and the tables are crowded and dimly lit, and the whole operation hums along in cheerful, productive disorder. Phoenix New Times handed it Best Dim Sum in 2025.

Jackfruit quesabirria tacos with plant-based mozzarella are the headline at this vegan Mexican taco shop in the Arcadia neighborhood, a casual counter-order spot where the menu reads like any solid taqueria, right down to the bucket of Modelos. Burritos come stuffed with rice, beans, fries, and your pick of plant-based protein, which is either very 2010s or exactly what you wanted. The kind of place carnivores get dragged to and then quietly admit was fine.

The consommé-soaked, cheese-crisped birria taco is the reason this place exists, and most tables seem to know it. Kiké's is a taco shop that grew out of a food truck into a full brick-and-mortar with a bar, which means you can now chase the drip with a proper drink. Carnitas and al pastor round out the menu for anyone who needs convincing, but the birria is still running the room.

The hogfat cornbread alone tells you something about how seriously this Spring Branch barbecue spot takes its sides. Smoked meats are the main event, but the menu stretches into smoked wings, a cheeseburger that gets its own devoted following, and unconventional sides like sweet-and-spicy Brussels sprouts and pimento mac and cheese. There's a full bar and a small outdoor play area, which makes Wednesday's kids-eat-free, half-off-wine deal feel almost too well-considered.

The grandma slice is the reason to linger: airy crumb, crackery bottom, and a sauce that tastes like someone had strong feelings about it. Mama's Boy is a two-floor NY-style slice shop in Uptown Oakland, counter orders downstairs and a little more breathing room above. The 20-inch pies go whole or by the slice, with garlic knots and local draft to round things out. It landed at #9 on 50 Top Pizza's national slice list, which is a specific thing to brag about.