The Best Places to Eat and Do in the United States

The open oven sits at the center of the room like a piece of furniture someone actually thought about, which tells you a lot about Grana before the pizza arrives. This is a contemporary Neapolitan pizza restaurant on East Burnside, bright and carefully put together without feeling precious. The dough runs high-hydration and long-fermented, San Marzano tomatoes and buffalo mozzarella alongside whatever's local. It landed at 26 on 50 Top Pizza USA.

A pizza shop in Beaverton where the dough is made with a biga starter, splitting the difference between Neapolitan softness and New York chew, then topped with flavors drawn from Asian pantries. The combination landed Hapa on the 50 Top Pizza USA list. The room is warm and the kitchen moves fast, which matters when half of Beaverton decides to show up at once. Original without being weird about it.

The wood-fired oven is shaped like an igloo, and someone thought to write "Food is important" across it in Italian, which sets the tone nicely. This wine bar and Neapolitan pizza spot in a small Iowa town keeps the menu short on purpose: a couple of appetizers, classic and meat-topped pies, tiramisu to finish. It landed on the 50 Top Pizza USA list, which feels both surprising and completely logical once you're there.

The sourdough starter has a name, Curtis, and the chef tends to it daily with the seriousness most people reserve for houseplants they actually like. Lucky Dough is an outdoor sourdough pizza spot in downtown Pensacola with a menu so tight it reads like a manifesto: two apps, a salad, ten pizzas. The raw-passed tomato sauce tastes less cooked than conjured. Ranked on 50 Top Pizza USA, and the setting still feels like someone's very well-curated backyard.

New York-style slices in New Orleans, served at a counter in a room of concrete floors and no-frills tables, with a shaded outdoor bench area that feels like someone's backyard party got very serious about pizza. The crust holds up, the sauce has some tang to it, and whole pies outperform the slices even if most people never find that out. Ranked in the 50 Top Pizza USA, which for a Bywater slice shop is not nothing.

Counter-order pizza in a small, tidy room in East Aurora, about a half-hour outside Buffalo. The menu is deliberately short: a handful of red and white pies, small plates, beer, wine, and a few cocktails. The dough runs soft and cheese-dusted at the crust with a crisp underside, and the kitchen leans seasonal, which is why regulars show up chasing whatever's fleeting. It ranked 40th on 50 Top Pizza USA.

The wood-fired oven sits in plain sight from every table, which is either a promise or a dare depending on how the pizza turns out. This Neapolitan pizza spot in Assembly Row keeps things bright and airy, with big windows and a long bar stocked for cocktails alongside the pies. The team has been sourcing Italian flour, dairy, and tomatoes for years, and the crust shows it: soft, properly blistered, with a little lift to the cornicione.

Neapolitan-inspired pizza shares the menu with pastas and grilled dishes at this North End Italian restaurant, where the neighborhood's old-school density of red sauce joints makes landing here feel like a small victory. The dough holds up under generous toppings, the crust comes out blistered and colorful, and the wine list is worth a look. It landed on 50 Top Pizza USA, which the regulars probably already knew.

You order at the door, grab a table, and the pizza shows up without ceremony, which is exactly the point at this Greenpoint slice shop. The dough is soft and light in the way Neapolitan purists get worked up about, and the toppings stay out of each other's way. The bruschetta with honey and ricotta is a small, sweet detour worth taking. Ranked 32nd on 50 Top Pizza USA, Salsa keeps things casual enough that nobody feels underdressed.

Wooster Street is New Haven apizza territory, so opening a Neapolitan pizzeria here takes a certain nerve. The family behind Zeneli trained in Naples and planted that tradition right in the middle of the local institution's turf. Wood-fired, soft-crusted pies with San Marzano tomatoes and proper mozzarella sit alongside classic Italian dishes in a room that feels genuinely like someone's people are running it.

The line at this cash-only Mexican bakery in Glendale moves slowly because everyone freezes in front of the cases. Giant pink pig-shaped cochinitos glazed with molasses, chamoy-dipped apples, tamales, fresh tortillas, and trays of pan dulce all compete for your attention at once. Phoenix New Times named it the best Mexican bakery in the city, and the regulars waiting ahead of you look like they already knew that.

Sonny's is a bright counter-service spot in the Highlands where the whole decision tree fits on one hand: pita, salad, or plate, then falafel, chicken, or both. The chef came over from Safta, and the sauces are all made from scratch, so an extra cup of harissa is the move. The zhoug is for people who have lost an argument with their taste buds before and want a rematch.

The team once competed on Food Network's Cupcake Wars under a different name and won, which tells you something about what's happening at this bright, family-run bakery near Seventh and Camelback. Frosted cupcakes and cookies rotate with the seasons and holidays, so there's almost always a reason to stop in. The signature brown boxes travel well and double as a gift when flowers feel lazy.

Our Green Affair is a counter-service salad shop in Solana Beach where the menu is a pun-off and the bowls are the punchline. You'll find the Hot Chick, the Thai Me Up, and a Caesar called the Seize Her, which is a lot of wordplay to absorb before noon. Order at the counter, add toppings if the mood strikes, and join a lunch crowd in athleisure. Eater has named it among San Diego's best salads.

A tiny pink-and-white bungalow in West Phoenix, family-run since the parents first opened it, now in the hands of their five kids. The pho here is the reason to show up, arriving in oversized bowls with the full spread of garnishes, and the broth is the kind that takes all day. Closes at five, shut on Tuesdays, and full of regulars who know better than to overthink the menu.

A Cortez Hill omakase counter where the whole evening is decided for you, which is the point, and the point costs $180. You get about two hours and twenty courses, with appetizers up front, nigiri in waves, a warm dish for a breather, and soup and dessert to close. The staff leans hard into omotenashi, so you'll be looked after more attentively than you've been in years. Reserve ahead and wear something nicer than gym shorts.

Sundubu jjigae arrives at the table still at a full boil, in a black earthenware bowl that stays screaming hot long after it lands. This Korean tofu house in Mesa's Asian District is the kind of place where a server drops off a raw egg and you crack it straight into the broth. The house-made tofu is silky, the broth is deeply red, and the white-shirt warning is sincere. Bulgogi and bibimbap round out the menu for anyone not ready to commit to the fire.

The cumin lamb buns alone might justify a drive to Englewood, but this lively Sichuan restaurant on South Broadway is stacking reasons to come. Dry pepper eggplant, pickled pepper beef, and wok-fried lotus root all land on the table with serious color and contrast. There's a full bar running fruity retro cocktails, which somehow fits. Westword named the mapo tofu among Denver's best in 2025, and the room tends to agree.

A former billiard hall that now keeps the lights low and the candles lit, so it feels more like a speakeasy than a pool room, though nobody's chalking a cue. It's a Mexican small-plates and cocktail spot on Halsted, with a menu that riffs on a few classics and a bar that leans on Chicago-based, Mexican-owned brands. The tequila espresso martini is the drink people keep ordering, naturally.

A Mexican steakhouse on Sixth Avenue where the dish everyone's talking about costs twelve dollars. The Taco Richi, named a favorite by the New York Times critic, is an open-faced flour tortilla loaded with rib-eye ribbons and salsa verde pork cracklings, finished with a crust of seared cheese. The porterhouse is enormous and beside the point. Order one taco, get warned off a second, ignore the advice.

State of Grace is a polished American seafood restaurant on Westheimer, plated for the River Oaks lunch-and-dinner set. A bright side room puts the raw bar front and center, so you can watch someone shuck oysters while deciding how many dozen is socially acceptable. The chef grew up across the street at the high school, which makes this one of the few homecomings that comes with a wine list. Dress like you meant it.

This is a fried-chicken counter on West 72nd with no seating, so the plan is to order, take a bag, and eat on a bench like a person with nothing to prove. The chicken goes into bubbling skillets to order, which is why the wait exists and why nobody is allowed to rush it. Ribs, turkey wings, and smothered chicken are on offer too, along with lima beans that are a quiet scene-stealer. The chef was a James Beard Best Chef: New York State semifinalist in 2024.

Cooks wield handheld fans to coax heat from a fire-only range, which tells you what kind of restaurant Hamdi is before a dish arrives. The chef came up through a three-Michelin-star kitchen in California, and the Turkish menu, pide, kebap, kofte, and a 42-day dry-aged porterhouse, carries that technique without tipping into fussiness. Prices are ambitious, and the kitchen knows it. Ballard's most serious dinner out.

A café in the old Astro space that kept the soufflé egg sandwich on brioche on the menu, because the neighborhood would have revolted. Coffee comes from Anthology in Eastern Market and Grand Coffee Roasters in San Francisco, and the café de olla, made with piloncillo and canela, is the kind of order that makes you feel slightly smug about your choices. Handmade journals from a local printmaker line the shelves for those who pretend they'll journal more.

Sandwiched between carburetor and machine shops on Buckeye Road, this cash-and-linoleum Mexican diner has been feeding the neighborhood long before the concept of "hole-in-the-wall chic" existed. Breakfast is the reason to show up: chilaquiles drowning in red or green salsa, Sunday menudo, and hearty caldo stews that have no interest in being photogenic. Phoenix New Times has named it Best Mexican Diner, and Eater flagged the machaca as one of Phoenix's most iconic dishes.

The banchan arrives before you've ordered anything, which tells you what kind of place this is. Ban Chan is a small, grandma-style Korean restaurant in Mesa where the menu leans hard into soups, stews, and hot pots built for sharing. The chef has been running Korean restaurants since forever, and that depth shows in broths that take time. A new generation found it recently, but the regulars who've been coming for years never left.

Sonoran white wheat, no oil, no sugar: Don Guerra's bagels are stripped down to grain and craft, and the lines in Gilbert form accordingly. This pop-up bakery at Hayden Flour Mills, where Guerra sources his flour, sells boules, loaves, and Sonoran bagels, with a preorder form online so you don't drive out empty-handed. Guerra holds a James Beard Award, and the crowd that shows up on bake days acts like it knows exactly why.

La Fillette is a French bakery in Montclair, wedged between a 7-Eleven and a nail salon, which is about as Parisian as East 14th Avenue gets. The pastry case holds croissants, kouign-amanns, and chocolate-dipped eclairs, and lunch means sandwiches on house-made bread. There's also green chile soup, apparently a legal requirement for any Denver menu. Order at the counter, eat with flaky sleeves.

Habanero is an old-school Mexican cafe on Oltorf that does breakfast and lunch and then goes home, so dinner plans need to be made elsewhere. The fajitas come ranchera style, tossed with charred jalapeños, onions, and tomatoes, and the room fills with longtime Austinites and recent transplants who've learned to arrive early on weekends. The Infatuation lists it among Austin's lunch spots, and the huevos gringos are a decent consolation for the wait.

The lamb goes into a pit lined with maguey leaves, comes out fall-off-the-bone tender, and lands on your table alongside consommé and a cactus salad. This casual Mexican restaurant on a resolutely unglamorous stretch of Long Point Road in Spring Branch specializes in the cooking of Hidalgo, which means the barbacoa de borrego is the thing to order. The New York Times put it on their 2023 Restaurant List, which is a long way to travel for a pit-smoked lamb, and not far enough.

The neon Googie sign out front has been promising sugar steak to Colfax drivers for longer than most Denver restaurants have existed. Bastien's is an old-school steakhouse with a sunken bar, mid-century bones, and servers who've been around long enough to know your order. The sugar steak earned a spot on Eater's list of Denver's most iconic dishes, and the dirty martini situation won a Westword award in 2023, which feels about right for a room this committed to its era.

Oysters on Pearl Street, which is the kind of sentence that shouldn't work in a landlocked mountain state but here we are. Jax is a lively seafood restaurant that has been feeding Boulderites raw bars and sustainably caught fish for decades, banking on Denver International's role as a coastal shipping hub. Come for the oysters, raw, grilled, or fried, and stay for whatever the kitchen has pulled in that week.

Nashville hot chicken shop tucked inside TRVE Brewing on Broadway, where the menu runs from classic spicy tenders to a green chile heat option that leans decidedly Colorado. The sandwiches are big and juicy in the way that requires a full stack of napkins and no white shirt. Vegan versions and a lineup of sides round things out for groups who can't agree on anything except that they're hungry.

The menu has a section called "America's Popular," which tells you everything you need to know about where the kitchen's heart actually lies. This counter-service Sichuan spot runs a long list of chile-heavy, mouth-numbing dishes built around Sichuan peppercorns, and the portions are sized for sharing. Come with people, order widely, and leave the safe column alone.

Lines form outside this Turkish-inspired bakery and cafe before the doors open on weekends, drawn by za'atar and caramelized kouign amann scenting the street. Pastry chef Maura Kilpatrick builds her pastries from New England grains, so the simit, a sesame-crusted braided ring, tastes a little local even when it doesn't look it. The brunch and mezze menu runs to poached eggs over green garlic yogurt and baked feta, and the shelves of Mediterranean spices make the wait useful.

This is an upscale but easygoing California restaurant on Highway 101 in Solana Beach, where the produce is local and seasonal and the salads get more attention than most people give their entrees. Expect a chopped salad with soppressata in it and soup you'll order on purpose. Dress is beach-adjacent nice, and the room is full of locals who treat a Tuesday lunch like a small occasion. It holds three AAA diamonds.