The Best Places in the United States

The Garrison is a seafood restaurant in Ballard from the people behind Le Coin, built around local clams and oysters. The clams arrive in a brothy cured lemon butter, which comes with grilled bread so that no one has to resort to drinking from the bowl in public. The crab puff pastry is a flaky, delicate thing, and the oysters have been known to make strangers at the next table speak up. Eater put it on its Seattle seafood list.

A 10,000-square-foot steakhouse in South Barrington built for the kind of night that ends with someone else signing the check. The menu runs to wagyu, roasted seafood towers, and lobster rolls, all designed to photograph well and eat even better. The chef came up through Gibsons Restaurant Group, so the kitchen knows its way around a serious piece of beef. Suburbs have had the chains; this is the splurge alternative.

The Hornet is a takeout sandwich counter tucked inside London Market in Pacific Heights, which is less a restaurant than a very well-organized errand. The menu of sandwiches and wraps changes daily, so you pick from a handful of options and hope nobody beat you to it. Ordering online helps, since the good ones sell out early and standing in a corner market staring at an empty chalkboard is a bleak way to spend lunch.

A seafood counter in downtown Greenville where the oysters come clean and release easily off the shell. The chef's nod to local pride shows up in the po' boy, dressed with Duke's mayo, which got its start right here in town. Smoked fish dip and a tight list of high-acid whites fill out a lunch that moves fast, since the room runs first-come, first-served. Keep an eye out for the seasonal all-you-can-eat oyster roasts with live music on Sunday afternoons.

A former liquor store turned all-day breakfast diner in the Broad Avenue Arts District, where the name turns out to be the only misleading thing about it. The menu runs pancakes and biscuits alongside Cuban sandwiches and tacos, so you can eat your way through several meals at once without anyone judging you. There's patio seating out front, cocktails on the menu, and banana pudding if the day calls for it.

A tiny donut shop tucked into a shopping center off Hayden, where the menu categories are literally named Classy, Fancy, and Schmancy, so expectations are appropriately calibrated. Yeast donuts, cake donuts, mochi donuts, fritters, and seasonal pastries all share the case, and the creme brulee donut gets a kitchen torch before it reaches you. Phoenix New Times put it on their list of the Valley's top dozen donut shops.

Mules come topped with torched marshmallows and rosemary here, which tells you immediately that this is not your average neighborhood bar, even if it very much looks like one. Mismatched vintage sofas, a fireplace, and bartenders who seem genuinely happy to see you give The Nook the feel of a cozy cabin that someone accidentally stocked with serious cocktails. West Seattle locals treat it like a living room, which is more or less what it is.

The Nori is a handroll bar and izakaya in a Decatur Boulevard strip mall, which is where Las Vegas hides most of its good, cheap lunches. The temaki set puts five different rolls on a platter for about twenty bucks, and they're sized so you could share them with a friend. The nori arrives crisp enough to crackle, so you'll eat fast, and you will stop pretending the sharing was ever a real plan.

The kolaches here come from a family recipe that's been turning out round, fruit-filled Czech pastries in this 720-square-foot shop for generations. It's a counter-service bakery on Telephone Road where things move fast: trays come out of the oven and disappear before the display board gets warm. House-roasted coffee and fajita-stuffed croissants round out a menu that has grown without losing the grandmother's-kitchen feel it apparently started as.

The box says "We are not affiliated with other Rainbow Donuts" before you've even opened it, which tells you something about the regulars here. This North Phoenix donut shop runs a classic menu of yeast and cake donuts, maple bars, fritters, crullers, and cinnamon rolls, all leaning fluffy and fresh without the cloying sweetness that plagues lesser cases. The Tiger Tail, chocolate and vanilla dough twisted together and glazed, is the one to start with.

The Rabbit Hole is a casual Taiwanese spot on the Mission-Bernal border, and its burger is the reason a lot of people show up. It arrives piled with pickled carrots, cucumbers, and peppers under a shimmering brioche bun, with a cheddar crust on the smashed patties that crunches against all that vinegar. The fries come dusted with nori and a side of gochujang ketchup, so the burger is doing a very specific kind of cultural crossover.

An industrial-chic small-plates restaurant on Royal Street where the menu leans Gulf-forward with enough global riffs to keep things interesting. The kitchen started as a tapas spot and still thinks in that register, running imaginative little plates alongside proper mains. Save a lane for dessert: the bread pudding with toasted pecans, apples, and bourbon caramel has become something of a local institution. Closed Sundays and Mondays, so plan accordingly.

The walls here have been graffitied for so long that the graffiti is basically the décor. This old-school Boulder pizza and burger joint has been slinging pies with what regulars call "ugly crust" and grass-fed beef burgers since before anyone can remember, in a room that has hosted Robert Redford (as a server), Obama, and Bourdain. The Buff Mac, a burger topped with buffalo chicken tenders and blue cheese, has its own quiet mythology.

The Taco Stand is a counter-service taco spot on Spring Mountain Road, where the tortillas are pressed fresh as each order comes in, so nobody is rushing you but the line behind you. The menu stops at six kinds of taco, plus burritos, quesadillas, and carne asada fries. The real decision-making happens at the salsa bar, which runs from habanero to chipotle and invites you to build something nobody warned you about. Cheap, casual, no dress code.

The Thumb is a north Scottsdale gas station where you pump gas outside and order brisket by the platter inside, under a chandelier that looks lost. Counter service, cash-register prices, and a gift shop and coffee bar to browse while your number comes up. The beans are so meaty they flirt with chili. Phoenix New Times has named it one of the Valley's top barbecue spots, which is a sentence about a place with a fish tank.

The lounge at the Wayfarer has been around forever, tucked inside a low-slung, wood-accented building steps from the beach, with Haystack Rock framed through the window. It leans into whiskey, and the bar program swings seasonal: hot toddies and Irish coffee when the Oregon coast does its worst, blueberry lavender lemonade spiked with vodka when it relents. The kind of cozy corner where date night actually feels like one.

A sun-filled corner bakery in Jamaica Plain where the croissant menu changes often enough to keep regulars guessing. Third Cliff built its following at a farmers market cart before settling into its permanent spot, and the French pastry classics get unexpected company here, kimchi cheddar croissants alongside vegan cardamom morning buns. The espresso is taken seriously. Neighborhood coffee shop energy, pastry-destination ambitions.

Those Guys Pies is an off-Strip pizza shop in the Lake East neighborhood, and it began life as the secret pizza spot tucked inside the Cosmopolitan. It does round and square pies, with names like the Big Sexy and a pulled-pork, pineapple, jalapeño number called the Barbecue Maui Wowie. A ghost-pepper pie called the Diablo is on the menu too, for anyone who woke up feeling fearless. Eater included it on its list of the best pizza in Las Vegas.

An old-school Jewish bakery that's been a Houston institution for generations, Three Brothers turns out egg bread, rye, pumpernickel, bagels, Kaiser rolls, pecan pie, and gingerbread men year-round from its Braeswood location. The roots run deep, tracing back to Eastern European family recipes, and the counter still feels like it. Three other outposts have opened around the city, but this is where the habit starts.

This is an old-school Houston bakery with a display case that runs from rye and pumpernickel to Kaiser rolls, bagels, coffee cakes, and pecan pie. The recipes trace back to Poland by way of a family that's been at it for generations, which explains why the gingerbread men show up year-round instead of waiting for permission. Expect a line of regulars who already know their order and a cashier who's heard every question about the cookies.

This is an old-school Houston bakery with Eastern European roots, the kind of place where rye, pumpernickel, and Kaiser rolls share a case with coffee cakes and pecan pie. Gingerbread men are made year-round, which tells you the cookies have no concept of a calendar. It's a counter-service stop with a few tables, a bag-it-yourself pace, and a line that's mostly regulars who already know what they came for.

Three Brothers is an old-school Houston bakery with a counter, a line, and a bakery case that does not believe in restraint. Rye, pumpernickel, and Kaiser rolls sit near coffee cakes, pecan pie, and gingerbread men that are available in any month, apparently because December has no monopoly. It's cheap, casual, and busy, the kind of place where you walk in for bread and walk out holding a box of cookies you can't quite explain.

A craft brewery and pizza spot on Cherry Street with a tiered outdoor patio that does a convincing impression of a neighborhood park, sun shades and all. The beer list swings from a New England IPA to a French toast pastry ale, with a Cherry Street Sour for those keeping it local. Detroit-style squares and thin tavern-style pizzas handle the food side. Live music plays regularly, but the back picnic tables sit just far enough away that conversation survives.

Toca Madera is a Mexican restaurant on Allen Parkway that treats dinner as a floor show, with live entertainment, a Vegas-meets-Miami sensibility, and cocktails and dishes that arrive on fire. The menu runs from smoky ceviche to grilled wagyu to a branzino in chipotle mezcal butter. Expect dressed-up groups and a bill to match, plus a kitchen that stays open until 1 a.m. on weekends, which Eater counted among Houston's best late-night spots.

A bowl of red without a single bean in sight, served the way Frank X. Tolbert intended when he more or less rewrote the rulebook on Texas chili decades ago. This casual chili parlor in Grapevine keeps his recipe going, ladling out small and large bowls with cheese and crackers, or folded into a Frito pie if you're feeling committed. It's a reason to make the suburban drive, and Main Street has enough to browse while the chili lingers.

The Tonga Room is a tiki bar and restaurant built around the Fairmont's old indoor pool, which now holds a floating stage where a band plays through the thunderstorms. Every fifteen minutes the ceiling rains on the lagoon, complete with lightning and thunderclaps, and grown adults rise from their seats to film it. The mai tais are strong, the kids get a layered blue-and-pink mocktail, and the pork belly bites help the whole thing along.

The cigarette machine still works. Tony's Baltimore Grill is a dive bar and pizza-pasta joint that has looked exactly the same since the 1970s, and the regulars, who get tattoos of the place, would riot if anything changed. The 24-hour bar draws casino workers, bands off the nearby stage, and anyone who needs a heavy pour at 1 a.m. Order the pizza, order the eggplant, and let a stranger tell you what Atlantic City is actually like.

Tortello is a pastifico on Division with a storefront window that doubles as a live show, staff cutting and kneading dough for anyone who slows down on the sidewalk. The flour comes from Italy, and a master sfoglina was brought in to train the team, which tells you how seriously they take noodles. It's casual and moderately priced, with fresh pasta by the pound to go and a patio that fills up the minute the weather allows.

Toscana is the full-service, sit-down Italian restaurant tucked inside the sprawling Eataly food hall at Park MGM, which means you walk past pastry counters and pasta shelves to get there, which somehow works. The menu leans Tuscan and seasonal, the kind of regional Italian that changes with what's good rather than just what photographs well. It's a proper dinner-out option in a building most people wander through eating arancini.

The kitchen crew is up at 3 a.m. so you don't have to be, which is the kind of arrangement that makes a bagel shop worth its reputation. Townie is a no-frills NY-style operation in Palm Springs turning out hand-rolled bagels, including a sourdough version and a daily gluten-free batch, plus black-and-white cookies and brownies. Call ahead, because the line in the desert sun is a real thing and a hat will only get you so far.

This is a Sichuan restaurant in Sterling Heights where the peppercorns go to work on your lips and don't clock out until well after dessert. The fried squirrel-shaped fish is what regulars order before the menus finish landing, and the vegetarian options are better than the cuisine's usual afterthought. Big round tables suit a crowd, which is how most of the room arrives. Eater lists it among Metro Detroit's best Chinese restaurants.