The Best Places in the United States

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 fleet of cruiser bikes parked out front hints at the Atticus's personality: a contemporary boutique hotel that takes itself seriously without losing its sense of fun. It holds a Michelin Key and sits in the heart of walkable McMinnville wine country, about halfway between Portland and the coast. Rooms run from snug Micro Studios to a full penthouse, and the in-house restaurant leans Mediterranean and Pacific Northwest.

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.

A casual East Downtown wine bar and pizza spot where the menu shifts with the seasons but fennel sausage pizza and rigatoni Bolognese tend to anchor things. The vegetable dishes punch above their station, like a cabbage salad in pistachio-apricot agrodolce that sounds like a dare and tastes like a plan. Sister to Nancy's Hustle next door, which means the neighborhood is doing just fine.

The croissant stuffed with Thai tea custard and mango puree probably tells you everything about what Bake Sum is doing: Cantonese bakery traditions running headlong into pan-Asian flavors via laminated dough. The okonomiyaki danish keeps its bonito flakes and smoky fishiness intact. The New York Times flagged their croissubi in 2024. Counter service, a few sidewalk tables, and a line worth joining on a Grand Lake morning.

Flower-strung lights and live music greet you at this downtown Santa Fe Mexican restaurant, where the kitchen gardens supply much of what lands on the table. The menu runs traditional with a knowing detour or two, and the lamb posole in guajillo bone broth earned a nod from the New York Times. The room is warm and a little festive on a Wednesday, which is either a selling point or a warning, depending on your mood.

Pink Lotus is a casual Thai neighborhood spot in West Midtown, tucked inside a big brick building where industrial bones meet decor that's colorful and a little goofy. The menu skips the sweet-and-sticky Americanized staples and heads for regional dishes, including a smoky northern chili dip and khao soi. Lunch sets pair two dishes, which is the polite way to order twice without anyone noticing.

Ivan Orkin, a New Yorker who built his reputation running ramen shops in Tokyo, brought the whole project back home to the Lower East Side. The ramen shop is compact and casual, counter seats facing the kitchen, with a menu that mixes Japanese technique and New York personality without making a big fuss about either. The tsukemen, where you dip thick fresh noodles into rich pork broth and season to taste, rewards the curious. Grub Street named it one of the city's best restaurants for kids.

The bar is lit by a marquee sign, the wine list describes something as "the purple nurple of pet-nat," and fresh urchin sometimes arrives in the spiny shell with bread and butter. This wainscoted French bistro on Capitol Hill pairs classic technique with Northwest seafood, keeps the natural wine program largely French, and still serves pimento cheese left over from a pop-up era because the menu has a sense of humor about itself.

Tucked inside ABC Carpet & Home, this vegetarian restaurant runs on the kind of clean-lined, chandelier-scattered energy that makes a green juice feel entirely appropriate in a wine glass. The menu moves through breakfast, brunch, and lunch with pressed juices and kombuchas alongside clever plant-based plates. The New York Times named it among the 100 best restaurants in the city, which the business crowd and the ladies-who-lunch set have known for a while.

The menu changes daily and fits on a single card, which tells you most of what you need to know about King. This SoHo neighborhood restaurant runs a short Mediterranean lineup built around whatever looks good at the greenmarket, with a bar up front that fills early and an intimate back room hung with bright art. The team met at London's River Café, and that unhurried confidence shows in food that makes simplicity seem like a deliberate flex.

Part coffee shop, part neighborhood bottle shop, part full kitchen, Story Hill BKC somehow makes all three feel inevitable under one roof. The team behind Maxie's and Blue's Egg runs this cozy Bluemound Road spot, where the warm wood interior and genuinely unhurried hospitality do as much work as the menu. A James Beard Outstanding Restaurateur semifinalist, the group has a long track record of comfort food that earns the label.

A fleet of complimentary bikes parked out front sets the tone at this mid-century modernist-inspired hotel in Midtown, a neighborhood that packs in more museums, music venues, and performing arts than it has any right to. Rooms lean boutique rather than business-casual Hilton, and a modern Southern restaurant and bar keeps things from feeling like a conference layover. The Michelin Guide includes it among its selected hotels.

The lobby is stacked floor to ceiling with old National Geographic issues, which tells you most of what you need to know about this hotel's whole deal. A block from UC Berkeley's campus, the Graduate leans into an Indiana Jones fantasy, decor that looks collected on various digs rather than sourced from a catalog. Rooms are comfortable without trying too hard, and the public spaces draw a crowd well past checkout.

The white-columned facade on Prospect Street has been watching La Jolla grow from a quiet beach town into something considerably more self-important, and the Grande Colonial has aged into its surroundings with more grace than most. This old-school hotel leans into European elegance without apology: high ceilings, unhurried service, and rooms that feel genuinely considered rather than recently refreshed. Torrey Pines is minutes away, and the ocean isn't far behind.

The exposed concrete ceilings are original, a souvenir from the Brutalist office block this 90-room boutique hotel used to be. Vivid colors and modernist furnishings do the arguing against all that raw gray, and it mostly works. Local art runs throughout, the rooftop lounge has the skyline and Indy-riffing cocktails, and the Wholesale District outside is in the middle of figuring out what it wants to be next.

A restored Art Deco building in the Faena District keeps things deliberately unhurried while the rest of Miami Beach performs for the velvet rope. Rooms and studios lean residential, many with kitchenettes, and the Greenbrier Swim & Social handles all-day food, cocktails, and pool lounging in one place. Beach Butlers arrange chairs, umbrellas, and packed lunches for the stretch a block and a half away. The Michelin Guide has it among its Selected Hotels.

Named for a French pop song from the sixties, this adults-only boutique hotel in the Warm Sands neighborhood runs small, quiet, and easier on a travel budget than most of what Palm Springs has to offer. Twenty-seven rooms, a pool, a fire pit, and drinks in the courtyard cover the essentials. There's no restaurant on site, so dinner means a short drive into town, which most guests seem to consider a fine trade.

Bunk beds with guitars on the wall set the tone at this Moxy in the heart of Uptown, where vintage shops and late-night pho joints are the neighbors. The hotel leans hard into its social zones, with the Vinyl Lounge serving craft cocktails and lobby spaces that feel more like someone's living room. Rooms are compact but smart, with big windows and good tech. The Michelin Guide includes it among its selected hotels.

A converted 1961 savings and loan building, with its original terrazzo floors and curved mid-century bones still intact, now operates as a boutique hotel on one of Savannah's busiest corners. Eleven room configurations come fitted with hand-cut tile and custom millwork; suites add soaking tubs and private terraces. The Sun Club rooftop pool, the all-day Municipal Bar, and The Hot Eye, a speakeasy from the Death & Co founders, mean you rarely need to leave.