The Best Places in the United States

Custom Rookwood pottery displayed above the open kitchen pass sets the tone at Jose Salazar's namesake restaurant, a mid-sized dining room where servers stand with hands clasped, quietly hunting for glasses to refill. The format is tapas in spirit: order everything at once, and the team paces it out. Dishes lean seasonal and arrive with an almost theatrical commitment to color, the kind of cooking that makes you notice it before you taste it.

Schulte & Herr is a small, low-key German restaurant on Cumberland Avenue where fresh rye bread and a paprika-heavy quark spread arrive before you've finished sitting down. It's BYOB with no corkage fee, so the real planning happens at a wine shop beforehand. The plates are homestyle and generous, built around things like sauerbraten that sends its gravy into the bread dumplings. Expect to leave needing a nap, and not minding.

The ceviche is the obvious draw, but the skirt steak with chimichurri and cheese-mashed potatoes quietly argues that this is as much a steakhouse as a ceviché bar. Anthony Lamas's Latin American restaurant on Bardstown Road has been around long enough to predate Louisville's dining boom and still fills the room on its own terms. He earned a James Beard semifinalist nod in 2022, which tells you something about how seriously the kitchen takes the menu.

Bar Roza is a cocktail bar tucked into the alley beside the Arcade, built around aperitifs and bitters rather than the usual whiskey-and-regrets lineup. The menu sorts drinks into categories, including hot-and-cold pairings and ones that make aperitifs and digestifs share custody. Small plates like mortadella focaccia are on hand for pacing yourself, which the creamsicle-tinged pisco drinks will make you appreciate.

Nook is a cocktail bar upstairs at Bow Market, done up like a midcentury sunken living room, the kind your parents would have thrown a very tasteful party in around 1970. There's a fireplace, and the drink list is all original concoctions, some involving coffee-infused rye and tiki bitters in the same glass. It's small and snug, so a couple of friends and a pre-dinner round is the right-sized plan.

The blue-painted building with a red neon sign on Shattuck Avenue does not undersell what's inside. This is a sousaku izakaya, meaning the menu leans into New Japanese cooking, the kind you'd find in Tokyo or Osaka right now: hot pot, skewers, fried fish cakes, seasonal sashimi added only because regulars kept asking. The menu rotates constantly, which makes repeat visits feel less like loyalty and more like good sense.

The injera arrives with every order, a spongy sourdough flatbread that doubles as plate and utensil, and first-timers get a menu with a glossary to help them figure out what they've just ordered. This Ethiopian restaurant has been an ASU rite of passage for what feels like forever, a family-run strip mall spot that leans hard into vegetarian dishes and fragrant stews. The dining room is cozy and carpeted, and the coffee ceremony is not decorative.

A Mexican restaurant in a converted brick building in Garfield, where the large windows keep things bright enough that you don't feel like you're day-drinking when you order a Paloma at noon. Gallo Blanco runs all three meals, so the crowd shifts from coffee-and-eggs regulars to the burrito-and-margarita contingent by midday. The guacamole and chips make a persuasive case for arriving hungry and starting slow.

The cardstock to-go box comes with chopstick handles built into the sides, which is either the cleverest packaging in Phoenix or a sign that the city has simply been doing lunch wrong. This grab-and-go dumpling shop on a downtown corner keeps the menu short: pick your base, pick your filling, pick a sauce. The whole thing runs about thirteen dollars, which buys considerably more than whatever sad situation you had going on at your desk.

The chefs pause after every course to hold up the whole fish they just cut from, which is either theater or education depending on your mood. Hidden Omakase is an 18-seat omakase counter tucked inside a strip mall, where Marcos Juarez, an Uchi alum, runs through nigiri that pulls Thai, Vietnamese, and Latin influences into the lineup. BYOB with a corkage fee, so plan accordingly.

Diners are told to eat fast, and at a handroll shop this good, that's not a hardship. Temaki Den sits inside The Source market hall in RiNo, its dark palette carving out something moodier than the food-hall format might suggest. The kitchen rolls temaki one at a time, to order, with aburi nigiri on the side for good measure. The nori stays crisp for exactly as long as it needs to, which is the whole point.

A Tudor mansion anchoring 500 acres in Somerset County, an hour from Manhattan, with the kind of pedigree that involves former Moroccan royal ownership and an organic farm feeding the on-site restaurants. Pendry Natirar is a full-scale resort, with a spa, tennis courts, a cooking school, and a private club. Rooms run to dark wood, marble, and deep-green accents. The Michelin Guide awarded it one Key.

Every room at this eleven-room countryside inn in the Hudson Valley comes with a fictional backstory baked into the design, which sounds precious until you see how well it actually works. The team behind it built a whole invented world to hang the interiors on, and the result is quietly luxurious without feeling like a stage set. A Michelin Key property, and a genuinely considered alternative to generic upstate getaways.

Ten tables, Anita Baker on the speakers, and a basket of house-made potato chips arriving before the tasting menu begins, which tells you most of what you need to know about the vibe. This fine dining spot in downtown Petaluma runs four or seven courses of California cooking with French technique, from a chef trained at Institut Paul Bocuse. The Chronicle's Top 100 lists have noticed. Go for the longer menu and don't skip the Parker House rolls.

The handwashing station near the door is not decorative; injera this fresh demands clean hands and full attention. This Ethiopian restaurant on Esplanade Ridge fills its corner spot with wicker light fixtures, natural textiles, and wood tables with mustard cushions. The injera is made in house daily, the sambusas arrive golden and stuffed, and the vegetable combination platter is how you learn the menu before you know what to order.

The original Crack Shack is a counter-service fried chicken spot on Kettner, built around an outdoor courtyard with picnic tables, lawn games, and the general mood of a backyard cookout run by someone with a spreadsheet. You order sandwiches, bone-in trays, or a bowl for the one friend who's being good, and everything involves pasture-raised chicken. It's casual, loud, and fine in flip-flops.

The pressed-tin ceilings and Art Deco mirrors have been pulling SoHo together since the nineties, and Balthazar still runs the same play: a classic French brasserie where the onion soup gratinée and steak frites are the point, not a consolation prize. The room is cavernous and warm, the crowd ranges from fashion people to tourists who did their homework, and the whole thing hums along like it has nothing left to prove.

Marinated skewers sit in the case waiting their turn over live coals, and a haze of mesquite smoke follows the grill man out of the kitchen on a good night. This Armenian kabob counter on 16th Street landed on the New York Times restaurant list and keeps turning up on every Phoenix rundown worth reading. Combos come with enough meat, basmati, and Shirazi salad to feed two people, and regulars treat first-timers like a conversion project.

Jollof rice finished with herby lamb chops or jerk cauliflower is the kind of menu decision that takes longer than it should. This West African-Californian restaurant in Inglewood grew out of a pandemic pop-up, and the cooking still carries that energy, all sticky honey chicken berbere and root beer-braised short ribs with whipped yams. The room got a modern refresh and the cocktails are genuinely cooling. The Los Angeles Times put it among the best restaurants in California.

The menu answers a question most Denver restaurants don't ask: what if you just focused on Emilia-Romagna? This RiNo dinner spot is the younger sibling of Restaurant Olivia, and it carries the same low-key elegance while going deep on the region that gave the world prosciutto di Parma and Parmigiano. Traditional stuffed pastas, griddled flatbreads, braised meats, and a Lambrusco list that will make you rethink sparkling red wine.

Three separate dining rooms, three separate reservations to even consider: teppanyaki, sushi omakase, or traditional washoku, each run as its own operation. The spirits company behind the whisky built an elegant Japanese restaurant in Waikīkī that takes itself seriously without making you feel like you wandered in underdressed. The drink menu is, predictably, excellent. Pick your room before you call.

Marble bar, exposed brick, and blue velvet banquettes make this Bolton Hill neighborhood restaurant look as good as the brownstones outside. The menu swings from Caesar steak tartare to crispy pork knuckle with beer gravy, and a wagyu brisket-chuck burger with smoked tomato-bacon jam has earned its own following. Tamarind-lime daiquiris help with the decision-making. Baltimore Magazine named it one of the city's top restaurants for 2026.

The Indian-inflected Italian restaurant in the Highlands neighborhood where the chef's masala aioli turns up on elk tartare and the pasta always involves goat. Her husband painstakingly sources small-producer wines from across Italy and makes his own amari in-house, which is either obsessive or exactly right. The room is intimate and the hospitality famously warm. A James Beard semifinalist for Outstanding Hospitality, and the reputation makes sense from the first drink forward.

Fabio Trabocchi's fine dining room at the Wharf is all coastal blues and polished brass, with floor-to-ceiling windows over the Potomac that make the room feel like it floats. The Spanish menu runs from jamón croquetas and spreadable sobrasada to paella loaded with lobster and giant prawns, with impeccably simple fish in between. The crowd dresses up, as they should.

High ceilings and big windows flood this New American neighborhood restaurant with afternoon light, and candlelit booths handle the evening shift. The rotating dinner menu runs from clams to pasta to brick chicken, and the bar pours cocktails serious enough to justify a second round. Lunch added focaccia sandwiches and grandma-style pizza slices, which turned a quietly beloved dinner spot into something the whole city suddenly had opinions about.

A converted warehouse in Little Italy with barrel-vaulted ceilings and enough candlelight to make everyone look good, Herb & Wood is a wood-fired New American restaurant where the menu swings from blistered pizzas to venison over buttermilk polenta without losing its footing. The PB&C dessert, chocolate-whiskey cake with peanut butter mousse, has its own following. The Michelin Guide has it on their list, and the room tends to fill early with people who look like they come here often.

The smashburger here started as a pop-up, and the crispy-edged, cheese-laced results made a permanent address feel inevitable. This is a casual counter-service spot on Washington Avenue doing smashburgers with special sauce, loaded fries, and milkshakes in a room that leans into the gritty aesthetic of a New York bodega. The chopped cheese quietly competes with the burgers for most people's attention by the second visit.

House-made blue and yellow corn tortillas arrive before you've even thought about ordering, which tells you something about how this Oaxacan restaurant in Riverdale operates. The room is modern and low-lit, with clay masks and pottery that nod to the region without tipping into theme park territory. Mezcal gets serious attention at the bar, and the dark mole negro on the enmoladas de pato is the kind of sauce that takes days to make.

The wine list is a wall of bottles you grab yourself on the way to your table, which tells you roughly everything about how this steakhouse operates. Carne sits in RiNo and divides its menu into Baller Moves and Normies, with a $175 tomahawk firmly in the former camp. Cuts come from Argentina, Mexico, and beyond. The tableside martini cart arrives with vintage Playboy magazines on it, in case the vibe needed clarifying.

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.

The SkyBar rooftop wraps 360 degrees around the Orlando skyline, which is a reasonable argument for staying here instead of somewhere closer to the mouse. This is a hotel in downtown Orlando, lean and stylish in the European AC mold, with 180 rooms and more shared space than the footprint suggests: Foxtail Coffee, a restaurant leaning into the brand's Spanish roots, and that rooftop. A long way from theme park carpeting in every sense.

A Hyatt JdV hotel tucked between Sunset and Hollywood Boulevard, Hollywood Volume pitches itself somewhere between luxury and minimalism, which is a polished way of saying the rooms are stylish but you won't feel guilty about the rate. The neighborhood is in the middle of becoming something, and the hotel suits that mood: put-together without taking itself too seriously, and easier on the wallet than the boutique competition around the corner.

The Spanish Colonial bones have been around forever, and Hotel Granada leans into them without apology: wrought ironwork, a leafy open-air courtyard called Pom Court at the center of it all, and a low-lit cocktail bar called May Peel tucked below ground for when the evening calls for something quieter. It's a 120-room Midtown hotel that reads more like a neighborhood institution than a chain, and the Michelin Guide has taken notice.

Midtown Atlanta's creative district gets a hotel that leans into the neighborhood's energy rather than ignoring it, with art and modernist design running through the whole property. Kimpton The Shane keeps the brand's signature warmth, the kind where staff remember your name, while staying genuinely plugged into the local art, music, and restaurant scenes. A solid base if you'd rather stay somewhere with a point of view.

A French hotel group that took its sweet time crossing the Atlantic, Mama Shelter landed in Hollywood with in-room iMacs, free wi-fi, and public spaces designed for lingering rather than lobbying. The bar leans game-room, the coffee shop runs all day, and the restaurant mixes French and American without making a fuss about it. Rates stay low enough for the creative-class crowd this place is clearly courting.

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.

Zombie Taco, the 24-hour taqueria downstairs, tells you most of what you need to know about the neighborhood this hotel occupies. Moxy Austin-University sits just north of the UT campus in the strip of bars, shops, and perpetual foot traffic that lines Guadalupe. Rooms run clean and modernist with leather furniture and Western wool blankets, and Bar Moxy's indoor-outdoor lounge doubles as a genuine local hangout, not just a hotel bar for guests with nowhere better to be.

Check-in happens at Bar Moxy, which sets the tone: this is a hotel where the lobby is also your first drink. The 111-room property folds a new tower into three renovated Italianate storefronts, and the interiors lean into Cincinnati's German immigrant past with a modern Bavarian twist that stops short of lederhosen. The Chase Rooftop Bar sits above it all with skyline views, and Great American Ball Park is practically next door.

A boutique hotel on Melrose where the lobby is meant to be lived in, not passed through. The anchor is The Hart and the Hunter, a Southern-leaning restaurant whose biscuits have reportedly stopped people mid-sidewalk. Rooms are compact and the point, as far as Paligroup is concerned, is the communal life downstairs. For a stretch of Melrose better known for vintage shops than overnight stays, it reads as a reasonable argument for the neighborhood.

Checkered marble floors and Venetian plaster walls set the tone at this 66-room hotel on Fairfax, where California light pours through skylights and the pool courtyard is lined with a living wall landscaped by local nursery Rolling Greens. Suites come stocked with Taschen books and original paintings. The Grove and the Original Farmer's Market are directly across the street, which either delights or horrifies, depending on your relationship with weekend crowds.

Mansard roofs across from a Los Angeles shopping mall is a combination that shouldn't work, yet here we are. This full-service hotel on Beverly Boulevard layers Art Deco-inspired interiors and French balconies over unmistakable SoCal surroundings, hitting a note somewhere between Parisian fashion and Beverly Hills glamour. The public spaces are moody enough that you'll arrive in your nicest outfit and still feel like you've underdressed.

A renovated mid-century motel in Mid-City, the Drifter trades gallery-lined French Quarter charm for a courtyard pool that becomes the whole point by afternoon. Rooms are spare, minimalist, and comfortable without pretending to be grand. Food trucks rotate through, craft beer and third-wave coffee are on hand, and live music runs most nights, so light sleepers should plan accordingly. The Michelin Guide has it in their selected hotels.

A hotel in Cherry Creek named for the French inventor who mechanized the loom, which tells you something about the neighborhood's self-image. The neon chandelier and floating staircase set the tone in the lobby, guest rooms run to glass walls, and the rooftop bar stretches a 180-degree mountain panorama from Longs Peak to Pikes Peak. The crowd dresses for it, and at sunset, they're not wrong to.

A former Army barracks that the National Park Service converted into a boutique hotel, the Lodge at the Presidio sits on one of the few stretches of near-wild coastline that San Francisco managed to keep inside city limits. Rooms look out over the wooded hillside, the skyline, or the Golden Gate Bridge, depending on how lucky you get at booking. It's a quieter base than downtown, which is either a selling point or a warning.

Cork floors and custom birch furniture set the tone at this 18-room boutique hotel, redesigned by Studio Tre with a mid-century American thread and textiles by Oaxacan artist Ismael Gutierrez Montano woven through. A saltwater pool and a tiled fountain anchor the garden courtyard. It sits on Tulane Avenue rather than in the French Quarter, which is either a drawback or the whole point, depending on how you feel about historic charm versus a room that doesn't look like every other room in New Orleans.

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.