The Best Places in the United States

A proper Irish chip-cutting machine crossed the Atlantic so the fish and chips here would be right. McGonagle's is a neighborhood tavern in Dorchester, a notch upscale but nowhere near precious, where the chef trained under Heston Blumenthal and is quietly making the case that Irish food is more than anyone assumes. The spice bag, Dublin's legendary late-night fried chicken jumble, arrives in a paper bag, fries and all, and it will reorder your priorities.

Orders get called out over a crackling intercom at this warehouse-sized Indo canteen and grocery store in Berkeley, where metal trays and disposable sporks set the tone immediately. The chaat is the reason to come, those hollow puffs and tamarind-drenched bites that make the whole elaborate category make sense. Thalis, tandoori chicken, and a glass case of colorful sweets fill out the picture. The San Francisco Chronicle has it in their Top 100 Bay Area restaurants.

Flaky roti canai folded and crisped to order, torn apart and dragged through curry, is the move that explains Phat Eatery in a single gesture. This casual Malaysian street food spot in Katy draws a crowd happy to share plates of Hainanese chicken, beef rendang, and satay across a loud, affordable table. The chef was a James Beard semifinalist for Best Chef: Texas, which for a strip-mall canteen in the Houston suburbs is a sentence worth sitting with.

Part coffee shop, part design store, part Taschen outpost, Dialog sits at the base of a mural-wrapped building on Roosevelt Row and dares you to categorize it. The matcha is stone-ground and ceremonial-grade, with baristas reaching for a scale before the whisk ever touches the bowl. Beans come from Stereoscope in LA. Browsers drift between arched light fixtures and esoteric objects while something simmers on the U-shaped bar.

A roadside farmstand with a raw bar is either a great idea or a very convincing fever dream, and Sweet Amalia is the former. The oysters come from the team's own aquaculture operation in the Delaware Bay, and the weekly menu pivots around whatever the chef finds interesting: falafel over cucumbers, grilled eggplant with peperonata, a BLT stacked with heirlooms. You order at the counter and eat outside at picnic tables. The New York Times put it on their Restaurant List.

A coffee shop where the décor has opinions about where you sit. PHX Cat Cafe is a nonprofit cat lounge in downtown Phoenix where a rotating crew of adoptable cats nap in elevated perches, bat at toys, and occasionally judge you from across the room. The small admission fee buys you time among the felines, decent coffee, and access to events like cat yoga and drag bingo. Over a thousand cats have found homes through the place, which gives the whole thing a satisfying excuse.

A 1982 Piaggio Apé truck imported from Italy parks in the garden and pulls espresso, which tells you most of what you need to know about Pueblo's priorities. This plant shop and coffee stop on Grand Avenue occupies a lush warehouse where indoor tropicals crowd every corner and a vintage gardening library invites you to stay longer than planned. The pottery, succulents, and houseplants are the main event, but the outdoor patio has a way of making an errand feel like an afternoon.

Despite the name, nobody comes to this strip-mall Thai spot for the wings. The real draw is the menu, a laminated binder that wanders through Thai, Cambodian, Vietnamese, Laotian, and Chinese cooking and has photos of everything, which helps, because you'll need help. Wear whatever you wore to work, bring an appetite, and pick something within five minutes, since the binder will happily outlast your lunch hour.

The tin pressed ceiling and flickering candles do a lot of the work before the food arrives. This Brooklyn Heights neighborhood tavern has the bones of an old bar and the kitchen instincts to match, running from duck poutine croquettes to braised rabbit without making either feel out of place. The kind of room where regulars settle in for the burger and stay through the blackout cake, and nobody seems to mind.

Fake flowers cascade over the entrance and hang above the kitchen at this Palestinian restaurant on Atlantic Avenue, where the decor and the cooking share the same go-big instinct. The mezze platter is enormous by design, the saj bread comes hot from a domed oven by the door, and the rice dishes arrive in mounds built for sharing. It's a Michelin-selected room, and the crowd tends to arrive hungry and in groups.

Cute tile floors and globe lights in a relaxed Old City row house, and the menu reads like someone just got back from Lyon and had a lot of feelings about it. Chef Christopher Kearse runs a modern French bistro where escargot and frog legs share the card with dry-aged duck, all handled with a genuinely classical hand. Grab a bar seat up front for snacks if you're not committing to the full dining room.

The build-your-own bouquet bar is the first thing you notice, a wall of loose stems you pull and arrange yourself while your coffee order is being made. This is a coffee and flower shop in downtown Phoenix, the kind of concept that sounds precious until you're standing in it and it actually works. The rose latte has become something of a signature. Breakfast and lunch round it out, and private floristry classes are available for groups.

Martha My Dear is a neighborhood cocktail bar on Gallatin Ave, in a space that spent a short, theatrical stretch as a WWII-themed Euro bar before closing without much mourning. The new owners kept some of the Old World bones and swapped the concept for something calmer, with drinks built by a bartender who came up through Attaboy. It's casual and low-key, with cocktails that take their job seriously and nothing else around them does.

The malai rigatoni, ridged noodles in a creamy tomato masala, is what half the room orders without looking at the menu. Pijja Palace is a full-on Indian sports bar doing bar pies, hot wings, and dosa-battered onion rings from a ground-floor spot in a Silver Lake Comfort Inn, which sounds like a bit, but isn't. The crowd is loud, the games are on, and the cardamom soft serve closes things out. A James Beard semifinalist for Best New Restaurant.

The dry-aging cabinet behind the counter holds fish for up to thirty days, which is either alarming or the whole point, depending on your disposition. Friends Only is a ten-seat omakase in the Tenderloin with cocktails built around black truffle amaro and a staff that can explain the science while you eat. The chef behind Akiko's runs it, and the room feels like a dinner party where the invitation cost several hundred dollars.

A volcanic stone installation cascades from the ceiling of this sleek modern Japanese restaurant in Midtown Center, where the lighting is calibrated precisely enough to make everyone look good. The menu runs from robata-grilled skewers to sushi, and the Japanese whiskey list is long enough to require a strategy. The kind of room that reads more New York than D.C., which the crowd seems to know.

A neon sign reading "Bless Your Heart" anchors the bar, which tells you exactly the kind of contemporary Southern restaurant this is. The menu leans hard into local vegetables and whatever the season is doing, with dishes that manage to be creative without being precious about it. The chef earned a James Beard semifinalist nod, and the Michelin Guide has taken notice too. Date-night crowd, candlelit tables, the works.

B & M is a Caribbean grocery where the restaurant is wherever the chef happens to be, which is the kitchen at the back. You walk past the shelves, lean in, and tell her what you want, and she returns with oxtail or curry goat over rice and peas, or wrapped in a roti. Cow foot soup turns up some days. The pepper sauce is bottled in-house and sold at the register, so keep a tissue handy. Order is cheap, casual, and done standing up.

Concrete walls, a neutrals-only palette, and an LA sensibility that landed in Wedgewood-Houston: Cafe Babu is a coffee shop that knows exactly what it looks like and leans into it. The chai runs strong and spicy, and the signature latte gets a hit of cardamom syrup. Pastries and sandwiches carry the daytime shift; by evening the menu pivots to cocktails and small bites, which makes the patio, a Nashville Scene Best of Nashville winner, work a little harder.

Chopper is a tiki-ish cocktail bar that swapped the grass skirts for robots, with Star Wars characters turning up in the barware and the drinks billed as "lab tested," as if a bar had a lab. Mai tais and rum runners get their own spin alongside a rotating seasonal menu, and the coffee drinks tend to be the interesting ones. A taco truck usually parks out front, so dinner is basically handled.

Retrograde is a bright, tidy coffee shop on Dickerson Pike that has quietly become the new gathering spot for Nashville's remote workers, who roam in search of an outlet and a flat white. The toast does some of the work: whipped feta and prosciutto, with spice and olive oil, the sort of thing a Germantown brunch charges extra for. Expect laptops, low stakes, and a very full table of people who are definitely about to reply to that email.

Retrograde is a bright, tidy coffee shop on Clifton Ave that has become the new headquarters for West Nashville's remote workers, who migrated here after a beloved spot in The Nations closed. The laptops outnumber the pastries, but the whipped feta and prosciutto toast, finished with spice and olive oil, tastes like brunch from a pricier neighborhood without the wait. Nashville Scene named it Best Thing on Toast.

This is a counter-service taco shop built on Tijuana street food, where the tortillas are made by hand and the meat comes off an open flame in plain sight. It has branched out across the county, so the downtown original often has a line at lunch, and ordering online is how people dodge it. The tacos are palm-sized, the California burrito is not, and it comes stacked with fries like a dare.

Booths upholstered like living-room couches and plates finished with flowers signal that this is not your father's chophouse. Be.Stéak.Ă is an Italian-leaning steakhouse in Campbell where the menu wanders through the Mediterranean before landing firmly on meat. The patio has a fireplace and corrugated steel ceilings, and the Ramos Fizz is reportedly shaken for ten full minutes, which is either dedication or performance art.

A Lebanese restaurant on Capitol Park named for the family matriarch, Leila leans into home-cooking warmth rather than white-tablecloth formality. The New York Times called out the Lebanese Sundae among the best dishes eaten across the country in 2024: rose ice cream with orange blossom water hidden under a cloud of fairy floss, the whole thing buried in pistachios, arriving at the table looking like it has somewhere to be.

The pan con minuta is a whole gutted fried snapper tucked into a Cuban roll, tail hanging out, more fish than bread can reasonably hold. This Little Havana seafood counter has been around forever, and the logic is simple: everything comes out of the fryer to order, which is the whole secret. A retail fish case up front means the hogfish you're eyeing is the same one ending up on your plate.

A sourdough starter that's been going for decades anchors the bread program at Christopher Kostow's wood-fired California restaurant in Saint Helena, where nearly everything on the menu passes through flames at some point, including the soft serve. The courtyard, strung with lights and wrapped in greenery, adds heated yurts when the valley cools down. The cheeseburger has its own following, and the soft serve is not an afterthought.

The Ethiopian coffee service, brought to the table with ceremony, is a good sign you're in a homestyle Ethiopian restaurant that takes its cues seriously. The family team runs a warm, unfussy room in Miami Gardens, turning out doro wat and shiro on a spread of sour injera. The New York Times put it on their Miami list, which feels right for a place that quietly fills a gap the size of Miami-Dade County.

The frita at this old-school Cuban cafeteria on Calle Ocho is a smash burger built Havana-style: beef patty seasoned with cumin and paprika, crispy potato strings, diced onion, and a soft Cuban bun. The founder, now in his late eighties, still takes his afternoon glass of wine at the end of the counter. The New York Times put it on their Miami list, alongside the other half of a local argument that runs the way Philly's cheesesteak debate does.

Backlit wood slats arc over the counter like a wave frozen mid-break, and the room earns its reputation before the food arrives. Hiyakawa is a contemporary Japanese restaurant in Wynwood doing both omakase at the counter and a la carte, with top-grade seafood flown in from Japan sharing the menu with lamb chops served over burning rosemary. It's the kind of place where the theatrics feel earned rather than borrowed.

Madroño is a Nicaraguan sit-down restaurant in a West Flagler strip mall, where white tablecloths are laid for comfort food that usually arrives in a takeout container. It's a family-occasion room, the sort where a First Communion party feels perfectly on brand. Groups order the bandeja, a lazy Susan of greatest hits, and birthdays get a shower of streamers. It made The Infatuation's list of Miami's 25 best restaurants.

A chalkboard menu that changes daily, just 20 bar stools, and a kitchen running on two induction burners and a small convection oven: The Wren looks like every other dim, welcoming Fells Point tavern, and that's precisely the cover it's working. The pub food, though, is meticulous seasonal cooking. The New York Times put it on their Restaurant List, and Bon Appétit named it one of America's Best New Restaurants. Come for the draft beers; stay through the beef-and-ale pie.

A jet-black falcon statue on the second floor is the reason half the room is taking photos, the other half pretending they aren't. John's Grill is an old-school San Francisco steakhouse where the walls are dark leather-brown, the tablecloths are white, and the staff dress to match the bird. The menu runs to lamb chops, crab, and other unapologetic classics. Dashiell Hammett set scenes here, which the place has never let anyone forget, and fairly so.

The fish provenance is printed right on the menu, which tells you something about how seriously this cozy Novato sushi shop takes its sourcing. The chef behind the counter has spent years at serious Bay Area sushi bars, and he brings that same precision here without the reverent hush or the eye-watering bill. Lunch combinations and omakase sets keep things accessible, and you can even buy fish to take home.

The dining room holds enough live-seafood tanks that you half expect a guided tour, but R&G Lounge is a Chinatown banquet-style restaurant where the point is the occasion. Dungeness crab fried in salt and pepper, black cod baked to the texture of soft butter, geoduck sliced thin for sashimi. The seafood swims until you order it, which settles the freshness question before it's even asked.

A cozy bungalow sushi shop tucked into Sausalito that's been part of the local fabric forever, Sushi Ran blends California farm-to-table thinking with straightforward Japanese technique in a way that resists easy categorization. The sake list is well-chosen, the fish is clean and consistent, and something like red curry-roasted cauliflower might show up alongside impeccable nigiri. The Michelin Guide has given it a Bib Gourmand.

Dark sea-green walls, plush booths, and a covered parklet out front set the mood at this French bistro, where California ingredients do their best impression of a Parisian menu. The wine list splits evenly between Burgundy and Sonoma, the cocktails are serious, and the frites come with Dijon mayo in case you needed a reason. Bar Zola next door handles the cocktail crowd if the dining room is full.

The sashimi that put this small Botanical Heights restaurant on the map layers Japanese technique over Southeast Asian flavors, which is basically chef Nick Bognar's whole project in one bite. Forty seats, no wasted space, and a menu where the fish does the heavy lifting. A James Beard semifinalist with a following that was national before the neighborhood caught on.

A food truck parked across from West Alabama Ice House, which makes the move obvious: grab barbacoa or chicharron tacos here, then carry them next door to a picnic table with a cold beer. The fillings are generous and the price point belongs to a different era. It's been a Montrose fixture forever, and the crowd has never needed a reason to overthink it.

Mon Ami Gabi is a Parisian-style bistro on the Strip where the patio faces the Bellagio Fountains and the sidewalk performs for free, with tourists and buskers wandering past your eggs Benedict. Flip flops are fine at brunch, a nicer outfit suits steak frites at dinner, and the crowd runs from newlyweds to influencers photographing their baguette. Book ahead, since everyone else read the same article.

Raoul's has been on Prince Street since before SoHo had a real estate pitch, and the art-crammed walls still feel like a bohemian time capsule in the best possible, no wait, a very specific way: the kind of French bistro where regulars order without looking up and the tableside hot fudge on profiteroles arrives like a point being made. The cooking is French American, the vibe is lived-in, and the cocktails arrive before the nostalgia sets in.

Roosevelt Row gets a proper grown-up restaurant in Pretty Penny, where every table starts with a complimentary pour of bubbles and the kitchen sends out housemade pastas, bold proteins, and an octopus tostada that earned a spot on Phoenix Magazine's top dishes list. The forest-green room is sleek without being stiff, and the bar program holds its own, landing in the Spirited Awards' regional top ten for best new cocktail bar.

Stone crab claws, boiled and chilled, served with a mustard sauce that people have been arguing about since Miami Beach was accessible only by ferry. Joe's is an old-school institution, a crab shop so embedded in the city's identity that celebrities, politicians, and regulars all wait in the same line. The dedicated parking lot across the street tells you everything about how long that wait can get. Save room for the key lime pie.

Starry lights over soft banquettes set the mood at this fine dining room on Capitol Hill, where the kitchen turns very local ingredients into something quietly elegant. The four-course tasting menu gives you real choices at each round, which makes it unusually painless for people who normally flinch at tasting menus. The hospitality carries the same care as the food, a James Beard Semifinalist nod for Outstanding Hospitality confirms that's not accidental.

Corner windows, kitschy wall art, and a bar that fills up well before dinner, A5 is a modern steakhouse with the warm energy of a place people come back to rather than cross off a list. Chef Max MacKissock plays the classics with a light hand, and the room has enough going on that a third martini starts to feel like sound planning. The Michelin Guide has selected it.

A North Denver brasserie modeled on the casual wine bars of Montreal, which explains both the natural wine list and the fact that nobody feels overdressed in flannel. The menu runs steak frites and chicken fricassee alongside blood sausage fried wontons, which is either an identity crisis or a perfectly good reason to order both. Westword named it the best restaurant for a breakup, which is a compliment, however you slice it.

A fine dining chef trading white tablecloths for a burger shop is either a crisis or a revelation, and here it reads as the latter. Single-source USDA prime beef is the whole point, dressed simply in brioche with the usual suspects done well. The fries are double-cooked in beef tallow, which is either old-school or very on-trend depending on your crowd. The Michelin Guide has taken notice.

The menu changes with the seasons, which sounds like a cliché until you notice the cocktail list follows suit too. This bright, energetic contemporary American restaurant in the Bishop Arts District leans heavily on vegetables and local produce, with occasional detours through dukkah, harissa, and miso that feel considered rather than restless. The focaccia is a reliable opening move. A Michelin Selected pick that also lands on Eater's essential Dallas list.

The wood art on the walls is the first thing you notice, then the menu, which shifts with the seasons but keeps a few old faithfuls around. This is a polished contemporary dining room on Galisteo Street, the kind of place where global technique quietly nudges the New Mexican pantry sideways. A James Beard nominee for Best Chef Southwest, and a Michelin Selected spot. Couples on date night and solo diners at the bar seem equally at ease.

The oyster comes out and someone brands it tableside with a hot coal before dousing it in ponzu and rice vinegar mayo, which sets the tone for the rest of the meal. This is a Spanish tapas restaurant in downtown Miami with concrete floors, a dim room, and servers who dress like they just came from somewhere better. Paellas and seafood-forward small plates are made for groups and loud tables. Next door, the same team runs a natural wine bar.

Blue corn tortillas made from scratch, with corn sourced from small Midwest farms and nixtamalized in-house, are what this casual beachside taco spot in North Beach built its reputation on. The chef was early to the whole process in Miami, and the operation has since grown into a local institution. Palm trees, ocean air one block over, and salsas worth asking about, especially the charred jalapeño.

The patio at this fine dining seafood restaurant inside the Hotel del Coronado looks out over manicured grounds to the Pacific, with an outdoor fireplace taking over once the sun disappears. The menu leans heavily on raw shellfish and fresh whole fish, priced accordingly, so budget-conscious pescatarians may want to look away. Book early; the wedding circuit has discovered this view too.

A strip-mall sushi counter in Old Town where the omakase draws a devoted following and the fish travels farther than most diners do to get here. Scallops from Hokkaido, oysters from British Columbia, sea urchin from both coasts at once: the sourcing is quietly serious. The room is small, the vibe is warm, and the chef keeps things approachable enough that the whole operation feels like a good secret rather than a test.

A hoagie shop and wine store in the Outer Sunset that lets you drink your bottle purchase on-site for a small corkage fee, which is either a genius loophole or just good hospitality. The outdoor tables face roughly toward the ocean, making a clear evening here feel earned. The sandwiches lean ambitious, the wine list runs deep, and the neighborhood tends to show up in layers, from dog walkers to people who know what they're doing with a natural wine.

Pablo's Coffee on Sixth Avenue has no wi-fi, a policy that feels radical in 2024 and probably felt radical then too. This indie coffee shop has been roasting its own beans since before Denver caught the craft-coffee bug, and the room still has the lived-in feel to prove it: couch-filled corners, a small bar top facing the baristas, and the ambient noise of people who are, against all odds, talking to each other.

A Modelo in a champagne chiller tells you everything about the vibe here. From the team behind Taco Boys, this seafood restaurant on North 7th is the dressed-up counterpoint to a casual taqueria, built for date night rather than a paper-plate lunch. The menu runs from a cold bar and ceviches to tacos and things grilled over mesquite charcoal, and the molcajete arrives with shrimp and octopus in hot or cold form.

The rotisserie smoke reaches you before you open the door, which is either a warning or a promise. This counter-service Peruvian chicken shop on East Thomas keeps things focused: whole or half birds off a hulking oven, Peruvian sauces on the side, and thick-cut fries that Phoenix New Times handed a Best of Phoenix nod to. Wash it down with an Inca Kola and you're done. Eater named it one of the best new restaurants in America in 2025.

This pie shop moved into a former dentist's office, so the only drilling now happens when someone attacks a whole key lime pie dressed up with strawberries and basil. Slices make it easy to build a flight, say lemon espresso against cucumber, mango, and chili lime. Chicken pot pie shows up after 11am, and strangers in line tend to start chatting. The owner was a James Beard Outstanding Baker nominee.

The red weathervane out front reads "BBQ," which is all the signage a place like this needs. Walk past the giant mesquite smokers on your way in and you'll already be hungry before you hit the counter. This Gilbert BBQ shop does Texas-style brisket with a coarse peppercorn crust, served by the pound on tin trays at wooden picnic tables. Order early; the popular cuts sell out, and nobody drives out near Mesa Gateway Airport to settle for sides.

A neon sign behind the open kitchen reads "Al Dente or Die," which tells you most of what you need to know about this downtown Phoenix pasta joint. Frank Ocean plays where Sinatra might, and "The Sopranos" loops on the wall behind the bar. The vodka sauce built a cult following when the place was a food truck, and the no-reservations line outside suggests that reputation held. Craft cocktails and low-intervention wines round things out.

The name comes from Édith Piaf's nickname, and the French bistro that follows it leans into the reference without being precious about it. The menu is compact and classic, with a Southern accent that surfaces in small ways. The New York Times singled out the French onion soup specifically, which tells you something about where the kitchen's priorities are. Thick-cut, triple-fried frites with Raclette service keep the regulars from straying.

Burmese food in Portland, done by three friends who started at a farmers market and still shop like it. Rangoon Bistro is a casual neighborhood spot with warming curries, noodle dishes, and thoke, the fermented-tea-leaf salads that arrive in a satisfying tangle of crunch and funk. A Malaysian-style fried chicken with coconut rice and belacan nods to where two of the founders spent time living and working. Patio seating, to-go, delivery, the whole deal.

LUVI is a Japanese and Shanghainese restaurant on Tchoupitoulas, tucked behind a door that swaps the traffic for a colorful, hushed dining room. It was serving Shanghainese dishes in New Orleans before most of the city knew to ask. The move is ordering far too many plates, dumplings and the dan dan noodles included, then losing count somewhere around the fourth round. The chef was a James Beard semifinalist.

A neighborhood café where the pastry case pulls equal weight with the coffee menu, Le Buzz sits along a stretch popular with cyclists coming off the trails, which explains the easy, unhurried vibe inside. Wooden furniture, local art on the walls, and a menu of egg dishes and house-made quiche give it a slightly European lean that Tucson has clearly adopted as its own.

The signature move here is the Hazz blend, carne asada folded with mild green chile and melted cheese, and it shows up across the menu at this no-frills Sonoran taco shop in west Phoenix. Order at the counter, everything à la carte, then stake out a table and work the salsa bar, which runs from fresh green to roasty red to a piquant orange. The horchata comes in a bucket. Phoenix New Times has it in their top 50 right now.

Neon glow, velvet booths, a dance pole, and a speakeasy mood that the name alone can't fully prepare you for. The Jackrabbit Lounge is a cocktail bar with a globally wandering small-plates menu, so you can chase a tiki drink with spam musubi or Korean meatballs and no one bats an eye. The kitchen runs late on weekends, which says plenty about the crowd that tends to find this place.

Fifty floors up in the Ritz-Carlton NoMad, this cocktail bar from the José Andrés group takes its name from the Spanish words for cloud and light, which is either poetic or on the nose depending on how far into the menu you are. The views run 270 degrees over the city, and the drinks lean into reimagined classics, from an adonis to a tom collins. Dress accordingly; the room expects it.

Cocorico is a French bakery and café where the owner is actually from France, which saves everyone the usual accent anxiety. Croissants and baguettes share space with a little market of quiches, pasta, and local goods, plus a goat cheese sandwich that Nashville Scene once crowned Best Vegetarian Sandwich. Framed photos of Toulouse and mosaic tile set the scene for a counter-service lunch, with a muffin-sized chocolate cake as the closer.

Long Gong is a Chinese banquet hall set so far west on SW Eighth that the road gives up and the Everglades take over. The tables are big enough to seat a dozen friends, each with a lazy susan roughly the size of a tractor tire. Dishes arrive in bubbling cauldrons kept hot over little grills, which makes a Wednesday lunch feel like someone's birthday. It sits at #23 on The Infatuation's Miami list.

Pancakes with crispy edges and a savory bowl of eggs and Portuguese sausage over rice in bacon cabbage broth on the same menu, and the real problem is choosing between them. Over Easy is a neighborhood breakfast and brunch spot in Kailua that's been the area's anchor long before brunch became an O'ahu-wide pastime. The menu is short enough to read fast and long enough to make you wish you'd brought someone to split the ordering burden.

The 40-seat dining room shares a building with a nightclub, which does set a certain tone. Present Tense is a Japanese restaurant where the chef's Italian background keeps surfacing on the plate, squid ink noodles with nduja and wasabi, koji chicken with shoyu au poivre. The New York Times named it one of Nashville's 25 best restaurants. The chef's counter fills early, and by the time the martinis land, nobody's rushing anywhere.