The Best Places in the United States

Moroccan tile, velvet banquettes, and flickering lanterns set the scene in a former speakeasy beneath the Marrakech hotel. Mentalist and magician Jay Alexander runs weekend-only shows in the 35-seat theater, blending mind-reading, human lie detector bits, and sleight-of-hand with enough comedy to keep the skeptics from squirming. The evening opens with close-up magic over drinks before moving into the main show, which is as interactive as it sounds.

The Snøhetta-designed expansion gave SFMOMA a half-block-long living wall of native plants and a rippling fiberglass facade meant to echo the Bay, so the building makes an argument before you're even inside. The modern and contemporary collection runs deep, and the museum store is genuinely its own destination, stocked with San Francisco landmark chess pieces and Lichtenstein-inspired ceramics. Clear a full day.

The name comes from the Italian habit of dragging bread through whatever sauce is left in the bowl, and the kitchen here gives you plenty of reason to do exactly that. Scarpetta is a polished Italian restaurant on the Strip, the kind of place where you dress a little and the pasta justifies it. Tableside paccheri in truffle cream is a reliable splurge, and the agnolotti with short rib and bone marrow lands somewhere between rustic and indulgent.

Scarr's is a New York slice shop that somehow got airlifted onto the Strip, wood paneling and marquee menu board intact. The owner reportedly spent weeks reworking his dough to account for Vegas tap water, which is a level of devotion usually reserved for sourdough starters and ex-girlfriends. Order at the counter, grab a hot honey pepperoni slice, and eat standing up like the pizza gods intended. Eater has named it the best pizza in Las Vegas.

Scooptopia is a small ice cream shop on Central Avenue, a satellite of the Scooptacular operation out in Laveen, serving a wide run of that kitchen's flavors. The scoops lean playful, with Playdough in three pastel stripes, bubble gum, and birthday cake. Sundaes and milkshakes are on offer too, so you can eat dessert in the shape of a meal. Expect a short line, a paper cup, and no dress code.

The yeasted waffle is what people come back for at this daytime diner on Macarthur, light enough to make the standard griddle version feel like a practical joke. Sequoia keeps the American breakfast plate honest while also running a loco moco where the gravy soaks into Koda Farms white rice in a way that feels earned. They cure their own pork belly, make three hot sauces in-house, and generally behave like a diner with something to prove.

Detroit-style squares with names like Sausage Singularity come out of this space-themed pizzeria on Elston, where the kitchen leans hard into technique. The crust is the point: crispy-edged, airy inside, the way a proper Detroit pie should land. Toppings skew eclectic, and the combinations are stranger and better than they sound. Order online for pickup, which is half the charm of a slice shop that takes itself just seriously enough.

Shelby is a basement cocktail bar in the Financial District, where finding the door is the first round of the evening. Downstairs, the drinks run from a proper espresso martini to a pineapple Averna negroni riff, backed by shared plates like beef tartare and a mushroom dish that politely impersonates escargot. It was a James Beard semifinalist for outstanding bar program. Book on Resy so you only get lost once.

The pastry case here draws comparisons to a jewelry counter, which tracks once you see the Totoro-shaped choux au craquelin lined up inside it. This Japanese patisserie and bento lunch spot sells out by mid-afternoon daily, so arriving at opening is less a suggestion than a survival strategy. The lunch boxes are tightly packed, the roulades come in flavors like matcha and Kula lavender, and the chefs keep changing things, which delights and frustrates regulars equally.

This is an all-you-can-eat barbecue joint on Spring Mountain Road that keeps late-night pub hours and a soft spot for the '80s, complete with live music. You grill brisket, pork belly, and teriyaki chicken at the table, then alternate with kimchi fried rice and tteokbokki. Drinks arrive in shareable pitchers of blueberry lemon drop and pina colada, so nobody here is pretending to be on a diet. Prices stay friendly.

Side Hustle Lounge is a cocktail bar tucked into the Belt Alley, next door to its partner restaurant Mootz Pizza, and it skips the 1920s speakeasy costume for midcentury modern with a retro Vegas streak. The drinks run bright, sometimes electric, with a Detroit lean, like the Detroit Sour's red wine float. Pizza from Mootz arrives alongside, so it's grandpa's basement, if grandpa had a much better bar.

Vegan kolaches stuffed with plant-based sausage, bacon, egg, and cheese are the kind of thing that makes you stop arguing about what veganism can and can't do. This Midtown bakery has been supplying Houston coffee shops with its pastries for years, so there's a decent chance you've already eaten here without knowing it. The Everything Bar, loaded with nuts, dried fruit, and chocolate chips, is a regular reason to come back.

A 150-foot Ferris wheel on the Fisherman's Wharf waterfront, lit by a million LED lights and very aware of the London Eye comparison. Each of the 36 climate-controlled gondolas holds up to six people, and a single ride runs about four rotations, giving you unobstructed sightlines to the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, and the hills stacked behind the city. Clear nights are the obvious move.

Four styles sit behind the glass at this casual slice shop from celebrity pizzaiolo Tony Gemignani: New York thin, Sicilian, grandma, and Detroit. You point, they reheat, you fold. The New York slices have that stiff-but-pliable thing that makes eating while standing feel like a skill. The grandma squares come thick, with ricotta pooled on top. Everything is straightforward, no reservations, no ambiance to speak of, just good pizza by the slice.

SMKD is a casual Henderson barbecue joint whose name is an anagram, a bit of wordplay that tells you the owners also like puzzles. You order at a plate-and-sides counter, and the meat runs from brisket and burnt ends to smoked pastrami, with a barbecue head of cauliflower for the vegetarian at the table. The sides lean ambitious, potato kugel and sweet potato hush puppies included, so wear something forgiving.

Korean-style shaved ice, known as bingsu, is the whole point here, served in bowls almost too pretty to disturb. Snowy Village is a casual international chain with a University District outpost where the milk-ice shavings come out feather-light and piled with toppings. The classic order leans into sweet red beans, chewy injeolmi rice cakes, and a dusting of soybean powder, though mango and Oreo versions exist for the less traditional.

Korean barbecue is still a rare find in Wine Country, and Soban fills that gap with galbi and grilled chicken arriving on hot iron platters. The house kimchi ferments for at least four weeks, and every banchan is made from scratch, which regulars tend to notice. The front-of-house team is happy to walk newcomers through the menu, so first-timers don't have to pretend they already know everything.

The pressed French bread announces itself before you even bite down, cracking loud enough to turn heads. Sol Food is a casual Puerto Rican spot in San Rafael with outposts around Marin, built around hot-pressed sandwiches that pull serious lunch crowds. The Paraíso swaps the expected cheese-steak script by folding in ripe plantains, and the Cubano is one of the few worth seeking out in the county.

Sophia's Brunch Counter is a counter-service daytime spot in a curved, metal-wrapped building that looks like it was meant for something with more ceremony. Inside, a chalky green marble counter and a lot of plants set a slow, airy, vaguely coastal mood. The menu stays small, bouncing between comfort food and lighter plates, with espresso up front and a little wine and cocktails behind it. Eater put it on its list of Phoenix's best brunches.

Spark Social is a food truck park in Mission Bay, bigger than a football field, with picnic tables and enough grass for small people to run themselves into a nap. The trucks rotate daily, so the lineup is a surprise, though pizza and noodles tend to turn up. Strollers outnumber everything else, which means nobody will notice your toddler. It splits into two areas, so scout both before you commit to a truck.

Spicy Girl is a casual Sichuan restaurant in Upper Kirby that stays open until 3:30 a.m. After 9 p.m. the menu shrinks to Chinese American staples like General Tso's chicken, Mongolian beef, and fried rice, all priced for people who just want dinner. You scan a QR code, seat yourself, and nobody asks how your night went. Wear whatever you wore to wherever you were.

A brewpub that's been an old-school downtown Springfield institution long enough that the regulars have strong opinions about which house beer to order first. The setup is classic pub: fresh-brewed drafts, pretzels with beer-cheese fondue, burgers, root beer floats made with house-brewed soda. The east end of the patio offers a decent perch for watching whoever's wandering through downtown on a Friday night.

A gastropub on Dauphin Street where the cocktail list is doing as much heavy lifting as the kitchen. Seafood-forward plates and bao buns lean into Gulf Coast ingredients with some international detours, but the drinks, ranging from a classic sidecar to a tequila-rosemary-squid-ink creation called Eight Arms: No Legs, are what people talk about after. Grab a swinging seat on the patio if you can; the French Quarter-ish street architecture makes for good company.

Ssyal is a Korean restaurant on Lawrence Avenue, and the move here is the samgye-tang: a whole Cornish hen stuffed with sticky rice, jujubes, garlic, and ginseng, then simmered until the broth could talk you out of a cold. The hen arrives in its own tiny bird-sized sleeping bag of rice. Dolsot bibimbap, bulgogi, and ox bone soup fill out the menu, and takeout and delivery are an easy call when you're sniffling.

The hapa ramen gets its smoky broth from pigs roasted whole in an underground oven at the luau next door, which is either the most Hawaiian supply chain imaginable or proof that good neighbors make good soup. This oceanfront Asian family-style restaurant in Lahaina fills up fast, so book ahead. Pohole fern salad and raw ahi with avocado share the menu with inventive cocktails built around calamansi lime and Asian pear.

Star Pizza is a casual Houston pizza joint that gets credit for bringing delivery to town, so a lot of locals have been eating it since before they could drive. The menu runs New York style to Chicago deep-dish, with a loyal following for the wheat crust and a ranch dressing people talk about like a family recipe. Tuesdays and Thursdays bring an all-you-can-eat lunch buffet, no dress code required.

STK is a Strip steakhouse built for people who plan to be in a nightclub forty minutes later, which explains the white leather booths, the faux cherry blossom tree, and music loud enough to make you order by pointing. The lighting is kind to everyone, and the porterhouse gets finished tableside with a torch, so keep your phone out. Dress like you have somewhere better to be, and expect the bill to know it.

Tucked inside an old market building in downtown Petaluma, Street Social is a neighborhood restaurant where the menu changes weekly and lands in genuinely surprising places. Think prawn cocktail with absinthe granita, or pan-seared gnocchi topped with potato chips. The cooking reads like comfort food filtered through a restless imagination, and the San Francisco Chronicle named it one of Sonoma County's standout restaurants.

Sucré is a pastry-and-gelato shop in Rice Village that looks like it was ordered from a Hallmark Channel set catalog. Macarons sit in neat rows, French pastries get their own displays, and the gelato and sorbetto cases are where the colors really let go. The strawberry gelato carries actual chunks of fruit, and the blood orange sorbetto, when it's around, brings some bitter rind along. Dress for a stroll, not a sit-down.