The Best Places in the United States

This is a La Jolla coffee shop that has dressed itself as an Italian villa, complete with trellised vines over a little alley and a table carved from a four-inch-thick door. The lattes arrive topped with a real flower bud, and prices run a few dollars above the usual, which is the cost of the scenery. Dog-walkers gossip outside while readers from the nearby bookstore claim the quieter nooks.

The tandoor oven is the move at this Indian restaurant on Cerrillos, where the chicken wings come out broiled over mesquite and finished with yogurt, garlic, and ginger. The dining room runs large and the service is unhurried and polished. If you like heat, say so; the kitchen will happily adjust. A weekday lunch buffet draws a steady crowd. The chef came up through Los Angeles, New York, and the Caribbean before landing in Santa Fe, and the cooking shows the mileage.

The lunch buffet has been a Tulsa institution for decades, with the owner still at the door to greet you himself, which sets a tone. This is a sit-down Indian restaurant where you pile your plate with naan, pakoras, and a rotating spread of curries, biryanis, and kormas. Most people overlook the dessert corner, but the kheer and mango custard are worth doubling back for before someone else clears the tray.

A sports bar in Buckhead's Terminus building where the pork totcho, a tater tot mountain buried under pulled pork, queso, and barbecue sauce, makes the pretense of watching the game completely optional. Multiple screens cover whatever's on, regardless of sport or allegiance, and the menu runs from lobster nachos to shrimp tacos, the kind of spread that commits fully to the bit.

Hanging ivies, bamboo lanterns, and a menu that opens with raw blue crab tucked into an Isaan papaya salad, which is either the dish that converts you or sends you to the safer side of the menu. This Thai restaurant in San Carlos leans hard into northeastern Thailand, where the food runs funky, sour, and intensely aromatic. The grilled pork jowl with its house fish sauce dip is the kind of thing regulars order before they sit down.

Isla Detroit is a fast-casual Filipino spot in Sterling Heights, with rice bowls, noodle bowls, and entrees drawn from the cooking of Iloilo. You order at the counter, so no one will ask how your evening is going. The pastry chef co-owns the place, which explains the ube cakes in that unapologetic purple, and the Buko Halo-Halo for dining in, a tower of crushed ice, milk, and jellies. Eater has listed it among metro Detroit's top restaurant desserts.

The menu calls itself "mukokuseki," a Japanese word for stateless, which is one way to describe a Scotch egg that riffs on Hawaiian loco moco with a side of mac salad. This International District izakaya keeps the menu rotating, but the throughline is confident genre collision: fried pork katsu sando tucked into garlic shokupan with spaghetti marinara and mozzarella. The New York Times named it among Seattle's best, and the shochu highball list gives you something to do while you figure out what just happened.

An izakaya tucked into a Concord strip mall, with the emphasis firmly on kobachi, the small bites meant to be eaten slowly alongside sake or shochu. The menu front-loads little plates that pair well with drinks, while heartier bento sets and grilled meats occupy the back half for anyone who came hungry. When you order a shochu sour, the proprietor walks over and squeezes the citrus at your table, which sets the tone immediately.

The handwritten daily specials sheet is the first thing to read at this intimate Honolulu izakaya, where the fish changes with the season and the kitchen takes both seriously. Foie gras over braised daikon and egg yolk rice with uni and truffle butter signal the general direction: indulgent, a little theatrical, no apologies. The baby sardine chips do the work of a bar snack, but with more personality than a bar snack has any right to expect.

Jackson Drug is a restored soda fountain, the kind with swivel stools, Art Deco ceiling tiles, and tilework underfoot that looks cleaner than most of the town's good intentions. It's a casual, cheap-ish diner dinner, with a burger from local beef, tater tots, and milkshakes sized for a small ranch. Families and sunburned hikers fill the stools, and The Infatuation lists it among Jackson Hole's best restaurants.

A rosemary-honey cortado tells you everything about what kind of coffee shop this is. Jadu is a Jamaica Plain cafe pulling Counter Culture espresso alongside masala chai sourced from Boston's own Madhrasi Chai, with seasonal drinks that lean into unexpected flavor combinations. Pastries come from a nearby nut-free bakery, and there's a breakfast and lunch menu to keep you longer than you planned.

Jaunt is a roast-to-order coffee shop tucked into an industrial park in Miramar, which is not where you'd expect to find an ube latte, but here we are. The drinks run from standard espresso to panela and lemon drop matcha experiments, and the empanadas make lunch a legitimate plan. A pay-it-forward board lets you buy a coffee or a meal for a stranger who's short on cash.

A coffee shop and pie counter in a genuine ghost town, Java Junction is the unofficial heartbeat of Madrid, the scrappy artist village strung along the Turquoise Trail twenty minutes from Santa Fe. The beans are roasted nearby and brewed in house, and the homemade pies rotate daily. An adjoining shop and a bed-and-breakfast mean you can arrive for an iced coffee and, through some series of small decisions, still be there tomorrow morning.

Jet Black is a vegan coffee shop in Gateway, named after a Jawbreaker song, which tells you roughly what's on the stereo. They roast their own beans, default to two shots of espresso, and stock enough plant milks that hemp gets a seat. The front deck is spacious, the breakfast sandwich is an English muffin with a sausage patty and Mama Lil's peppers, and nobody seems to be performing anything.

The Bowl Club membership tells you everything: this is a ramen shop with regulars who show up multiple times a week and never look at the menu. Jimoto does tonkotsu, soup dumplings, and poke in a town where most restaurants treat a reservation like a moral commitment. Low-key, no-fuss, and one of the few places in Aspen that does takeout well, which matters more than it sounds in a city with basically no food delivery.

This is a casual ramen shop in the Eddy Street Commons strip just south of Notre Dame, which explains why a former Cowboys linebacker co-owns it and why current players wander in between practices. Expect creamy tonkotsu in a bowl, a few spicier takes on it, and a bar program with a smoky old fashioned for the post-game crowd. Dessert is a layered crêpe cake, if you've got room after the noodles.

A bright red food cart parked in Napa, Joella's built its reputation on a fried chicken sandwich that audibly crunches when you bite it. The chicken is fiery and sweet at once, tucked into a sesame-topped potato sourdough bun with peppers and ranch slaw. The craggy nuggets with hot honey and cool ranch are the move if you're skipping bread. The San Francisco Chronicle named it one of the Bay Area's best fried chicken spots.

Velvet couches and Victorian flourishes make this cocktail bar inside the Venetian feel like a drawing room where someone definitely had an affair. The drinks lean inventive and precise, with one arriving in a Viking horn-shaped glass, which is either theatrical or inspired depending on your mood. One of three strong cocktail options in the same hotel, Juliet is the one that leans opulent and a little moody.

Justini's is a cocktail bar on Dauphine Street that nods to Seal's and Bertha's, two Black woman-owned New Orleans bars, with a courtyard mural to prove the lineage. It's dressier than those, with chandeliers and little alcoves built for being noticed in. The drinks are colorful, including a berry martini and a purple champagne cocktail, and the kitchen turns out hot sausage tacos and a jerk BBQ burger.

Karbach started as a scrappy local outfit before Anheuser-Busch bought it, and the sprawling indoor-outdoor brewery taproom it became is a pretty honest reflection of that trajectory. The full kitchen punches past standard pub grub, with a Texas Wagyu smashburger and truffle parmesan fries alongside the Crawford Bock and Love Street. Big enough for a party, casual enough for a Tuesday, and a sister pizza spot sits next door for when the group can't agree.

Tucked into a San Jose strip mall between a clothing store and a tattoo shop, Kategna is a spacious Ethiopian restaurant that leans into the communal spirit of the cuisine, with traditional Messob basket tables for eating together the way the food was meant to be eaten. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's finest Ethiopian spots. Cold Ethiopian beer or a pot of warm tea keeps the spice in check.

Free jazz plays while you eat aged fish at an eight-seat bar, which tells you everything about the vibe before the first course lands. This is an Edomae-style omakase counter in Mountain View where the chef, a veteran named in the restaurant's own title, treats restraint as a philosophy: a piece of ikura arrives with zero seasoning, letting the ocean do the talking. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's best sushi restaurants.

An Ethiopian coffee shop in Midtown, Kefita takes the origin story of coffee seriously. You can go the purist route with a pour-over or drip, or lean into house lattes built around honey cardamom or Ethiopian spice syrups. The sambusas and vegan monkey bread are worth the detour from your usual coffee-and-laptop routine. Once a month the team holds a traditional coffee ceremony, which turns a Tuesday into something worth rearranging.

Kelly's is a neighborhood dive in Hamtramck that has been pouring shots for factory workers since before anyone alive remembers a different Detroit. The back-yard doors are layered in stickers and signatures, the tin ceiling is still up, and the floors have finally been leveled, so your beer stays where you put it. Cans of Hamm's and Modelo are the order, and a rotating cast of food pop-ups handles dinner. Eater has it on its Detroit best bars list.

Panuchos and salbutes, those fried corn tortillas piled with slow-roasted cochinita pibil, are the reason to come to this Yucatecan spot on NE 82nd. The dining room is modest and unassuming, the kind of place that would never brag about itself, which somehow makes the food feel even more surprising. Order broadly and share: the menu rewards the curious, and the soups, when they appear, are not to be passed over.

Kilmac's is a neighborhood pub in Oakcliff, with dark wood, properly poured Guinness, and the same owners as Old Monk, so it knows its way around a bar stool. The cocktail list goes past what the setting suggests, including a freezer martini and a toasted coconut daiquiri. Thin, New York-style pizzas show up too, and they taste better on the big back patio, where you can sprawl out like the weather owes you. The Infatuation has it on its Dallas bars list.

A Greek Salad martini built with Tomato Crop vodka and piparra brine should probably not work, and yet here we are. Kinda Nice is a Williamsburg cocktail bar from two Grand Army veterans who describe the vibe as late-night diner meets dive bar, which mostly means the drinks lean savory and strange in satisfying ways. A downstairs dive called Shenanigans is coming, if you need somewhere to spiral afterward.

A fish market display near the entrance sets the tone: this is a Greek seafood restaurant where the day's catch gets filleted tableside if you want the show. The menu leans Mediterranean coastal, with braised short ribs in cinnamon tomato and squid ink linguini alongside whatever came off the boat. It sits in a shopping center, but the room doesn't feel like it. A good place to arrive hungry and in no particular hurry.

The name comes from a childhood nickname meaning "heel of the bread," which tells you something about the spirit of the place. This Wallingford cocktail bar leans into a Soviet parlor aesthetic, all floral upholstery and earthy glassware, with a drinks list built around beets, birch syrup, mushrooms, and green walnut. Slavic snacks fill the gaps between rounds. For purists, a horseradish vodka shot is on the menu and waiting to have a word with you.

Pork belly rolled tight with lemongrass and garlic, skin so crisp a fork won't crack it on the first try: that's the draw at this fast-casual Filipino counter in a Rockville strip mall. The lechon belly comes in sandwiches with atchara, over rice, or paired with other meats from the chef's rotation. Save room for desserts from the pastry shop run by his sister next door. The New York Times put it on its D.C. restaurant list, which tracks.

L.A. Jackson is the rooftop bar atop the Thompson in the Gulch, where a giant tree strung with tiny white lights sits in the middle like it's auditioning for a wedding. The cocktails lean on tangy shrubs, the sparkling rosé arrives with a guava pomegranate popsicle in it, and the hot chicken croquettes are the smart order. Weekend nights bring a DJ, so dress for a skyline and a crowd that came for both.

A red velvet curtain meets you at the door of this Duboce Triangle bistro, fully separating the street from a dim, burgundy-and-dark-wood room that could pass for a family hotel in Dijon. Coq au vin, duck confit, and house-made pâtés hold down the menu, and the île flottante is the kind of dessert that makes you briefly forget you're in San Francisco. Stepping back through that curtain afterward feels like returning from somewhere farther away.

A Spanish tapas bar in downtown Santa Fe where the kitchen runs New Mexico ingredients through Iberian technique, landing somewhere that feels less like fusion and less like either place than it probably should. Small plates anchor the menu, and the wine list leans Mediterranean and South American. James Campbell Caruso has been at this long enough that the weekend crowd skews toward people who knew him before you did, so book ahead.

A torta shop on the Peninsula with over 20 variations stacked into crusty telera bread, grilled until the crust is crosshatched and the inside is a soft collapse of queso fresco, refried beans, caramelized onion, avocado, and chipotle. The Cubana piles on breaded steak, ham, pork leg, chorizo, and turkey sausage, which is either excess or the point, depending on your appetite. Seating is sparse, so most people take theirs to go.