The Best Places in the United States

Murals and Black-inspired art cover the walls of this cafeteria-style Southern spot on the Northside, where the steam trays are loaded with fried chicken, oxtails, and mac and cheese that earns its reputation. The desserts, peach cobbler and lemon meringue among them, come from the owner's mother, which explains why the room fills with the kind of regulars who already know what they're getting before they reach the counter.

Fifty wines on self-service taps is the organizing idea here, a wine bar inside Chattahoochee Food Works where you load a card and pour your own 1.5-ounce samples until something clicks. A sommelier runs the place, so the selection is serious without being precious. Bottles on tap are available to take home, and a small food menu of charcuterie boards and paninis gives you enough to keep going without turning it into dinner.

Mismatched tablecloths and cloth napkins set the tone at this cozy Mediterranean-leaning tea room and cafe, where the menu runs to sandwiches, salads, and sampler plates with a light Greek accent. The house iced tea is steeped with clove, and the patio, tucked behind a fountain, manages to feel like someone's backyard despite sitting right off the street. A good spot for a slow Saturday lunch with no particular agenda.

Tekka is a walkup hand-roll counter inside The Cosmopolitan, built for people with somewhere louder to be. Each temaki arrives one at a time, so the nori stays crisp, with warm rice and the friendly basics like salmon, yellowtail, and spicy tuna. A set of three runs under $30. There's a nitro matcha on tap for a gentle buzz, and the seating line moves fast, which is the right speed for a Strip pit stop.

Gazpacho arrives in a glass porrón, and the oysters come buried in a cloud of smoke, because a Barcelona group opening a tapas spot in a Palo Alto shopping center was never going to be subtle about it. The menu runs through pintxos, paella, and Catalonian standards, with a small shop stocking Spanish wines and tinned goods near the door for the ride home.

A bright pink Tex-Mex restaurant in the Heights, covered in murals, beer posters, and neon, with a parking lot that has been full for as long as anyone can remember. The queso arrives at the exact drippy consistency fajitas and flautas demand, and the margaritas work faster than the service, which is saying something. It handles birthday crowds, a two-person booth, and the odd pancake breakfast with equal calm.

The wood-fired oven runs hot enough that the Neapolitan crusts come out blistered and light, with char spots that mean someone is paying attention. Terún is a pizza shop on California Ave that has been a gathering spot for the Italian expat crowd on the Peninsula for a while now. The black and white dining room is spare, which makes the olive oil and the colors on the plates look even more vivid by contrast.

The Birria Queen is a taco truck in Third Ward, and the name spares you any guesswork about the menu. The tacos come crisp and stuffed with cheese, with carne asada, chicken, or a vegan filling inside, and most people grab theirs to go. Park at the picnic table instead, dunk each one in the consomé while it's still hot, and order the jalapeño crema on the side if you're feeling brave.

Buddy Valastro, the Cake Boss himself, turned his Jersey deli upbringing into a sandwich counter on the Strip, where the mozzarella is made in house and every sandwich arrives on toasted ciabatta with your choice of sweet or hot peppers. It's casual and counter-service, the kind of stop where you can wear the same shirt you wore on the plane. Eater has put its sandwiches on a best-of list.

The Boys' Deli is a sandwich counter tucked into the back of Polk Street Market in Russian Hill, and the rotisserie chicken turning near the entrance does most of the recruiting. It's an order-at-the-counter, wrapper-and-napkin lunch where the Spitfire pairs chicken with bacon, jalapeños, and sriracha mayo. The specials rotate, so the menu changes while the faint smell of chicken on your jacket does not.

A buffet inside a medieval-castle casino, which means you can fill a plate with sushi, smoked brisket, and beef birria before noon and nobody in a plastic sword will question it. Six stations cover American, Asian, Italian, and Latin, with made-to-order omelets, iced shellfish, and a dessert counter running to crepes and frozen custard. Dress code is whatever got you through the casino floor, and prices stay in the low-to-mid thirties.

A line snaking out of a Thruway Shopping Center storefront at noon is the surest sign something is working. This family-owned sandwich and salad shop has been a Winston-Salem lunch fixture for decades, with regulars who come for the three-salad plates, spicy sesame noodles, and chicken salad, then linger over the daily specials board hoping the orange ginger grilled shrimp has shown up. Save room for a lemon bar.

The apothecary shelves and absinthe selection set the mood before you order anything. This cocktail bar in Winter Park has been doing serious, seasonally sourced drinks long enough to have inspired a generation of imitators, and the bartenders here still treat the work like a graduate seminar. Patience is part of the deal; a well-built drink takes as long as it takes. Literate regulars seem to mind the wait least of all.

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.