The Best Places to Eat and Do in the United States

A sourdough-based pizza shop tucked into a strip center on Gateway Avenue, where the menu splits between two very different philosophies: crispy, crackly round pies and Detroit-style squares that rise like they have somewhere to be. The Caesar, buried under parmesan and black garlic breadcrumbs, earns its place as a warm-up act. The Michelin Guide has it selected, which tracks for a place this easy to drive past.

A short rib bone jutting out of the bowl like a flag planted in soup: that's the opening move at this Vietnamese-Korean noodle shop off International Drive. The name promises two things it doesn't deliver (it's not all pho, and it's not 24 hours), but the broad menu of broths, stir-fries, and kimchi noodles keeps lines forming outside anyway. The Michelin Guide has taken notice.

The stone fireplace out front sets the tone before you even walk in. This downtown Asheville neighborhood restaurant runs on smoke, moving through smoked meats, grilled skewers, sashimi, and dumplings in a rustic room built around an open kitchen and a big central bar. The cocktails lean into the theme, one arrives visibly clouded. A tasting menu handles the decisions if you'd rather the kitchen just take over.

You find it through an unmarked alley door, down into a basement, which is exactly the kind of entrance that makes people feel very pleased with themselves. Ukiyo is an omakase-style tasting restaurant with two seatings a night, the menu rooted in Japanese technique but pulling freely from Southeast Asian and Peruvian traditions. Nigiri runs from otoro with scallion to minced chicken with lemongrass, and dessert has featured uni ice cream over roasted apples.

The pasta is made in-house, and the menu reads like a tour of the Italian regions with a Sardinian leaning. This cozy trattoria on 28th Street is the kind of place where the aperitivo list gets taken seriously and the wood-fired dishes reflect a chef who grew up eating this way, not studying it. The room fills with people who know what they're ordering before they open the menu.

No sign on the building, a steep staircase to climb, and eight seats at the counter once you get there. This omakase spot in Alameda runs a set menu that moves through composed dishes and precise nigiri, with the cooked courses pulling as much weight as the fish. The Michelin Guide has taken notice. Bring cash, bring patience for the stairs, and don't be surprised if the eggplant is the thing you're still thinking about later.

Dandelion-light fixtures float above concrete walls and horseshoe banquettes in this modern American restaurant, where the menu runs French in places without announcing it. The chef grew up with a connection to this Healdsburg building, which gives the whole thing a low-key personal charge. Expect polished, composed plates in a room that feels convivial rather than stiff, drawing the wine-country crowd that actually lives here, not just visits.

The flour tortillas are made in-house, and watching them come together at the counter is half the reason to show up early. This is a daytime tortilleria and counter-order burrito spot in Park Slope, from the team behind Corima. The tortillas are precise and pliable in a way that makes the whole thing feel different. Cinnamon rolls with cream cheese frosting and sea salt finish the job if you're still hungry, which you probably aren't.

Red velvet banquettes and dark wooden walls set the scene at this speakeasy-style Indian restaurant near Grand Central, where the menu sections have names like "swanky starters" and "jazzy breads" in case the decor leaves any doubt. Cocktails tip their hat to Prohibition-era gangsters, and Bollywood hits share the playlist with jazz. Contemporary Indian cooking fills the menu, from braised lamb with Kashmiri chilis to daal makhani done with genuine richness.

White walls, communal tables, and a daytime-only pace that makes Long Island City feel like it has a neighborhood café worth leaving the subway for. Vert Frais is a Japanese noodle and rice bowl spot backed by the chef behind Kanoyama, which means the cooking is more assured than the casual room suggests. The shio ramen runs clean and lightly fatty, and the soufflé pancakes are the kind of tall, jiggly thing people photograph before they eat it in about four minutes.

A tasting menu tucked into the back of a wine bar, which is either a charming origin story or a logistical surprise depending on how you find it. The chef draws on a Lower East Side upbringing and California foraging in equal measure, and the cooking threads those two worlds together with enough visual ambition that the plate sometimes outshines the bite. The ingredients are strong enough to hold it all up.

Pasta fills almost every table here, and that's not an accident. Vina Enoteca is an Italian restaurant with a bar tucked into a Palo Alto medical complex, which sounds uninspiring until you're inside the high-ceilinged, arch-lined room with soft leather chairs and a plate of house-made tagliatelle in front of you. The kitchen grows much of its produce at Stanford's farm down the road, and the pasta, pizza, and bread are all made in-house.

Counter seats face a glass-enclosed kitchen where you can watch the noodles being pulled to order, which makes waiting feel less like waiting. This Lanzhou-style noodle shop in a strip mall off Colonial Drive keeps the focus narrow: long, hand-pulled strands in clear beef broth with tender shank, a bowl that earns its reputation one slurp at a time. Pan-fried dumplings round out the menu for anyone who shows up hungry enough to order the whole table.

Wilder is the dining room of a farm hotel outside Loudon, where the garden is tended by a person with the title of head gardener, which tells you how seriously the tomatoes are taken. The room has a lodge feel, all warm wood and good manners, and the menu is garden-to-table American with a price tag to match. It's open to the public, so you can eat there without committing to a cottage. Michelin lists it as a Selected Restaurant.

Fried chicken so deeply embedded in New Orleans lore that the Seaton family has been running this Southern lunch counter since before most food writers were born. The downtown dining room is sunny and spacious, a long way from the original Treme spot, but the bird hasn't changed. Order the gumbo with shrimp and blue crab first, then stay focused. First-timers who wander into the rest of the menu do so at their own risk.

Hunan cooking gets less Bay Area attention than its Cantonese and Sichuan cousins, which makes this snug Millbrae restaurant worth knowing about. The heat here comes with smoke and funk, built from cured meats, fermented black beans, and pickled chilis rather than pure fire. Grab one of the carved booths in the back if you can, where you're close enough to the kitchen to feel invested. The Michelin Guide has had its eye on this place for a reason.

A busy Korean restaurant anchoring a Buford Highway strip mall corner, with a menu long enough to need its own table of contents. Glance at the neighboring tables and you'll notice most of them landed on the same thing: bibimbap in a stone bowl that keeps sizzling well after it arrives, crisped rice at the bottom doing its quiet work. It's casual, affordable, and listed in the Michelin Guide.

The copper-topped bar fills up early with Rockridge regulars who treat this neighborhood restaurant like a second living room. It's Italian-inflected California cooking in a rustic room, the kind of place where the charcuterie board arrives before you've fully settled in. A Michelin Bib Gourmand, and surrounded by bookshops and antique stores, which tells you pretty much everything about the crowd.

Hand-pulled biang biang noodles are the point at this counter-service Xi'an noodle shop in Midtown, an offshoot of the original out in Duluth. You order, you grab a paper plate, you find a seat. The cooking leans on cumin and chili in a way that feels more like a region asserting itself than a kitchen showing off. The boiled dumplings, pork or lamb, come by the baker's dozen with a house dipping sauce that does most of the talking.

The glass-enclosed kitchen at the front is the first thing you notice, and if you can grab a table facing it, you'll watch the whole operation. This Sichuan spot in Chinatown is named for its signature dish, a fiery pickled fish with sour greens that comes in sizes running up to a platter for six. The wontons in chili oil are a foregone conclusion. A long list of cold sides fills out the table without much effort.

A converted house with white walls and dark wood tables, no sushi counter in sight, Yoichi's is a quiet kaiseki tasting room run by a husband-and-wife team. The chef trained at Nobu Tokyo, and the seven-course menu follows kaiseki tradition closely, built around seasonal ingredients and carefully sourced fish. The kind of place where service explains what you're eating without making you feel like a student.

Servers in hanbok and a warren of curtained private rooms signal that this isn't your average Koreatown Korean restaurant. Yong Su San specializes in royal court cuisine, the elaborate dishes once prepared for Korea's aristocracy, and the setting leans into that history with carved wooden seats and cushioned booths. Large groups tend to arrive for set menus, but the à la carte banchan spread alone makes an argument for a quieter table for two.

Live tanks of crab, lobster, and flounder line the back wall, which sets the tone for what this Cantonese dim sum house is doing differently from its strip-mall neighbors. Weekend mornings draw Chinese families through a wide rotation of steamed, baked, and fried dim sum, the dumplings carefully pleated and the barbecue pork buns doing their thing. Evenings shift toward the seafood tanks. The Michelin Guide has it selected.

Nine seats at a counter in Japantown, and the meal starts on time whether you're there or not. Yuji is a kappo counter, the less-ceremonial cousin to kaiseki, where a twelve-course progression moves through cold bites, pristine sashimi, and fried tilefish before landing on a bowl of steamed rice with pickled vegetables and miso. Matcha custard closes it out. The whole thing feels quieter and more personal than the format suggests.

A spacious, no-frills Chinese restaurant that pulls a crowd big enough to suggest most of Tampa is in on the secret. The menu swings wide, from orange chicken and salt-and-pepper calamari to clay pot-braised fish with a deeper, earthier pull. Lunch brings a separate dim sum menu with dumplings, turnip cakes, pineapple buns, and Hong Kong-style egg tarts, which is the move if you arrive before the dinner rush swells the room.

The counter runs the show at this handroll shop on East 3rd Street, a stretch that's become one of the better reasons to venture east of downtown. The room is dark and pared-down, the kind of place that hums without trying. The menu skips the usual handroll playbook, leaning into combinations that read strange on paper and make sense in your hands. Regulars fill that counter fast, so arriving early is its own form of planning.

Cumin is in the name and in the air at this Fairfax District restaurant, where ikat fabrics drape the wood furnishings and the menu reads like a Silk Road itinerary. Zira Uzbek Kitchen serves the food of Uzbekistan, a cuisine that lands somewhere between Central Asian and Middle Eastern, with hand-pulled noodle soup, shashlik off the grill, and fat dumplings that regulars argue over. The Michelin Guide includes it among its selected restaurants in Los Angeles.

Heavy wooden doors and dark metal chandeliers set the tone at this upscale regional Mexican restaurant on Capitol Mall, where the sprawling patio is prime real estate on a warm Sacramento evening. The menu leans on freshness, with bright ceviches, tacos on house tortillas, and lively salsas across the board. The tequila list runs deep, though the mango fresco margarita with its tajín rim has its own loyal following.

Counter service, seat yourself, bus your own table: Zoe Ma Ma runs like a family kitchen that happened to open a door to Pearl Street. The chef behind the counter makes everything from scratch, and the Sichuan cooking leans homey rather than showy. Dan dan noodles are a constant, but the rotating daily specials are worth checking before you order. Prices are low enough that you'll probably order one more thing just because you can.

This is a downtown Fremont Street slice joint that doubles as a shrine to Evel Knievel, with memorabilia on the walls and a Knievel pinball machine to keep you busy while the oven works. The New York-style slices are big, the crust is crisp, and the candied bacon is there if you want it. The whole pies are pricey, but an eight-dollar slice and a beer is the move. Nobody here is sober enough to question the motorcycle mural.

Some of the bagels here are so large they've lost their holes entirely, which feels like a metaphor for Midtown but is actually just breakfast. This no-frills bagel shop near Penn Station runs like a commuter train that actually shows up: the line moves, the bagels come out hot, and the chewy, twisty exterior is what you came for. The New York Times named it among the city's best, and the 8 a.m. crowd would agree without looking up.

The rice comes out burgundy, not white, because Harumi uses Forbidden black rice, and that detail alone tells you this is a modern sushi spot with a point of view. It sits in downtown Phoenix, small and lively, with an omakase option that won't require a financial intervention. The fish is clean and familiar rather than obscure, which suits the pre-show crowd it draws. Phoenix New Times named it a top pick for eating before a downtown event.

Nocturno is a low-lit Arts District cocktail bar with a menu of over 100 drinks, which is a lot of homework before your first sip. Sit at the bar instead and the bartender will quiz you on your favorite spirit, then turn it into something like mezcal with honey and chili. The kitchen sends out gnocchi and a fried potato tower, and the smash burger shows up only on Sundays. It was a James Beard Best New Bar semifinalist.

This is a lively coastal Italian restaurant on the Strip that clearly wants you to leave without needing a nap. The kitchen keeps things light and bright, so the casarecce arrives in garlicky tomato sauce with a Calabrian chile kick, and the Roman-style pizzas have a crisp, airy crust. The beet salad draws second helpings, and the limoncello spritzes help you pretend you're somewhere near an actual coast.

The clam pie, made with fresh Little Neck Bay clams shucked to order, has to be requested in advance, which tells you something about the kind of pizza shop this is. Thin, foldable New York slices and airy Grandma squares handle the walk-in crowd on 30th Avenue in Astoria. Named for its late founder, the place has kept its footing under new stewardship. It landed on 50 Top Pizza USA and the Times's best-in-New York list.

Palate is a sit-down restaurant where velvet chairs and chandeliers the size of small cars make the dining room look like a fantasy ballroom. The menu runs on Southern comfort food that wanders off in several directions, and the cocktails arrive with props, including one served beside steel wool that gets set on fire. Swan Dive is upstairs, so dinner here doubles as a warm-up act.

Hank's is a Henderson steakhouse with white tablecloths and glowing fireplaces, plus a piano bar where a cover band might be working through Sublime while you hold a half-off dirty martini. The happy hour menu is the steakhouse-lite route, all tiny tuna tacos and beef wellington bites in beer cheese, though the full dinner runs to Kobe ribeye sold by the ounce, so bring a calculator or a generous spouse.

Wood-fired oven anchoring an open kitchen, high ceilings, warm wood everywhere: Nostrana reads like the kind of Italian restaurant Portland genuinely needed someone to get right. Chef Cathy Whims built the menu around regional Italian cooking and Pacific Northwest ingredients, with pizza holding its own among the broader offerings. The naturally leavened dough and housemade mozzarella keep purists happy without making the rest of the menu feel like an afterthought.

This is a strip-mall sushi counter on the Westside, no frills, where the sashimi is spotless and the nigiri keeps things simple. The menu is gentle on beginners, with a starter platter built around the California roll, while the chirashi bowl comes loaded like a small aquarium. Reservations go through a phone line that only picks up at certain hours, which is either a hassle or a personality, depending on your patience.