The Best Places in the United States

Wood-fired Neapolitan pizza out of what is essentially a very committed shipping container in RiNo, Cart-Driver has been converting skeptical New York transplants since it opened. The patio is the move when weather cooperates, since the indoor footprint is roughly the size of a generous walk-in closet. Tinned fish has become a thing here too, in case the pizza wasn't already an unexpected enough flex for Denver.

Gregory Gourdet runs this prix-fixe inside the Printemps department store on Wall Street, pulling Caribbean, French, and Asian threads into a tight, composed menu. The tilework and green patterned booths are very much meant to be photographed, and the crowd obliges. The duck glazed in cane syrup with tamarind jus is the kind of thing that makes the rest of the meal feel like buildup. The New York Times named the rice and beans among its favorite dishes of the year.

A former mid-century motel across from Southern Methodist University, Graduate by Hilton Dallas kept the bones and added a design-savvy refresh that fits more naturally in a coastal boutique than a Dallas zip code. The rooms are clean and modernist, the personality is intact, and the guests skew younger and lighter on luggage than the grand Texan hotel lobby down the road. The Michelin Guide lists it among its selected hotels.

A Kimpton property housed in a historic downtown building steps from the Golden Triangle, Hotel Monaco Pittsburgh leans into the city's unexpected cool, pairing bold, art-forward interiors with the brand's trademark pet-friendly, wine-hour quirks. Pittsburgh itself does a lot of the selling, a city of three rivers, craft breweries in recycled churches, and serious art museums that visitors routinely underestimate until they're already booking a return trip.

The building used to be a department store, and there's still something pleasingly grand about the Italian Renaissance bones underneath all the art. Quirk Hotel is a boutique stay in Richmond's downtown arts district, grown out of the gallery next door, and the walls read like a curated show rather than filler. Locals drift through the lobby as if the hotel is partly theirs, which is more or less the idea.

A Colonial Revival townhouse from the Edwardian era, tucked into Richmond's Fan District, with high ceilings and antique woodwork that make the handful of rooms feel like staying in a well-curated old house rather than a hotel. The owners bring New York and Puerto Rico hospitality backgrounds, which means a personal welcome and a daily European-style breakfast rather than a front-desk transaction. The leafy streets, galleries, and restaurants of the Fan are right outside.

Outdoor lounge space scattered across a property that knows the weather will cooperate pretty much every day of the year. This boutique hotel in Menlo Park sits close to Stanford and squarely in the orbit of Silicon Valley's various important campuses, which means the lobby has a certain purposeful energy during the week. Weekends are a different register entirely, with the pleasant California air doing most of the heavy lifting.

Kiran Verma describes her fine dining restaurant as "Indian hospitality with French sophistication and American informality," which sounds like a manifesto until the papadum nachos arrive and you realize she means it. The kitchen draws from the slow-cooked Awadhi traditions of Northern India, folding them into a contemporary menu that includes an afternoon tea service. Verma was a James Beard semifinalist for Best Chef: Texas in 2023.

The signature move here is a raw oyster shooter with uni and a quail egg, downed in one go, and it tells you a lot about this neighborhood Japanese restaurant. Chef Lori Hashimoto runs a wide menu, sushi through nabe, fried oysters to grilled squid, with the kind of quiet confidence that earned her a James Beard semifinalist nod. The house sake, made by a female sake master in Japan, is worth noting.

An 1866 Greek Revival mansion on a street that time forgot, Carr Mansion is an adults-only boutique bed and breakfast with a Michelin Key to its name. An Austin designer worked through every room without flattening them into a theme, so each one lands differently. Galveston is already an odd, beautiful detour from Houston, and this house, which has lived several lives before landing here, fits the island perfectly.

A turreted stone castle sitting right on Route 1 above Penobscot Bay, the Norumbega Inn holds 11 rooms and suites, each furnished differently, some with fireplaces, some with terraces, some with wide ocean views. It spent its first century as a private residence, and it still feels like a very good friend invited you to their very grand house. The Michelin Guide awarded it a Key. Cocktails at the bar, slow mornings, Camden harbor below.

The pink tinge of the beach here comes from coquina shells washing ashore constantly, which is the kind of detail that earns a resort its coastal bragging rights. This sprawling Florida golf resort pairs Jack Nicklaus and Tom Watson signature courses with a 91,000-square-foot water park, a sea-influenced spa, and activities bundled into the stay. Families pack the place, and honestly, mini-golf and dive-in movies at no extra charge keep everyone occupied without much negotiation.

Striped umbrellas line a private stretch of Gulf sand outside this boutique hotel, which sits in the heart of Rosemary Beach, a planned community along the Florida Panhandle that went all-in on whitewashed Old World architecture. The town is compact and walkable, the kind of place where golf carts outnumber cars and everyone's linen is freshly pressed. The Pearl is the only hotel in it, so the choice is remarkably straightforward.

The Tides Inn sits on its own peninsula off the Chesapeake Bay, which means water in every direction and a dock that practically dares you to do nothing all afternoon. It's a full-service waterfront resort, refreshed a few years back with nautical touches and new suites, where staff lead nature tours and host winemaker evenings but also know when to quietly disappear. Old-school in the best way, with none of the irony.

Blue lanterns overhead and pop-art rooms that look like a set designer lost a bet set the tone at this design-forward hotel on the Doha waterfront. The W brand's signature aesthetic goes full throttle here, from oversized beds to board games tucked in every room. Jean-Georges Vongerichten runs two of the dining venues, and the nightlife draws a crowd that didn't come to Doha to go to sleep early.

The pink palace on Colfax has cliff divers, a cave, a waterfall, and enough square footage to get genuinely lost in. Trey Parker and Matt Stone bought and revived this sprawling Mexican restaurant, bringing in chef Dana Rodriguez to fix the food while keeping every piece of the spectacle intact. The taco salad is the order. Come for the sopapillas, the nostalgia, or the sheer commitment to controlled chaos, all at once.

Glass cases of embroidered regional dress line the walls of this Albanian restaurant on Arthur Avenue, next to the old retail market, where the food runs to burek and cabbage rolls stuffed with ground veal. The Bronx's Albanian community has been quietly growing for decades, and this is where it eats. The menu is the comforting, filling kind, and the brumat sampler is a reasonable place to start if you've never eaten Albanian before.

Pastel pink walls and exposed brick share a room downtown, which is a combination that shouldn't work and somehow does. HeeMee is a Korean-inflected coffee shop and bakery where the pastries lean French and Japanese but never too sweet, and the menu swings from cakes to fried chicken rice bowls without apology. The Einspanner, local cold brew under sweet cream, is the drink to order. Tucson's downtown crowd has figured this out.

Part Italian deli, part pantry raid, Roma Imports sits in an industrial stretch of Tucson where you'd least expect red-checkered tablecloths and a sandwich counter stacked with imported goods. Shelves of Italian provisions crowd the walls, freezers hum in the background, and the menu runs to serious cold-cut combinations on housemade bread. The kind of place where regulars order without looking up.

A neighborhood café, bakery, and grocery that's been around forever near the University of Arizona, Time Market does the wood-fired pizza and artisanal bread thing without making you feel like you wandered into a lifestyle brand. Exposed beams, polished floors, good natural light. The kind of place where grabbing lunch and leaving with a bottle of wine feels completely normal.

Murals, sculptures, and flags cover every surface floor to ceiling, so you've found the place before you've read the sign. Lakruwana is a Sri Lankan restaurant on Staten Island where street food drives the menu, the room runs loud and colorful, and the owner works every table like it's a reunion. The New York Times put it on their 100 Best Restaurants in New York City list, which tracks for a room this unignorable.

The Kothu Parotta, a pan-grilled flatbread shredded and tossed with spicy vegetables and your choice of protein, is the kind of dish that makes a strip-mall address irrelevant. This casual Indian restaurant started as a food truck and found a permanent home on Thomas Road, where the booths fill fast with regulars who already know to ask the server what to order. The dal makhni and tikka masala pull their weight too.

A cheerful pink counter in Columbia Heights turning out New York-style slices with a foldable, crispy-bottomed crust that holds its shape even when loaded. This is a casual slice shop, the kind built for a quick lunch or a takeout grab. The chef behind it spent decades in the New York pizza world before landing in DC, and the menu runs from a proper pepperoni to more inventive pies built around local ingredients. It ranks on 50 Top Pizza's global list.

Souffle pancakes at noon and oysters by candlelight at the same address, which tells you most of what you need to know about Roze Pony. This all-day cafe and cocktail spot in West Nashville follows the East Nashville original from the same team, running from green juice and tartines through to salmon tartare and a New York strip with tiny, impossibly crisp onion rings. The lights actually dim at night, which is a nice commitment to the bit.

A strip-mall Turkish restaurant in Englewood with four tables and portions that could feed a small village. The menu runs through lamb shish kebabs, börek, pita-wrapped gyros, and the layered iskender, all at prices that make you feel briefly guilty. The team runs the room with the kind of warmth that makes strangers feel like regulars. Finish with baklava and strong Turkish coffee, then figure out how to button your coat.

Beignets dusted in powdered sugar and a personal bottle of sparkling juice set the tone at this Louisiana-inspired breakfast and lunch spot in Denver's Capitol Hill. The walls are loaded with Creole country kitsch, and the silverware arrives wrapped in bright fabric. The chicory coffee and housemade hot sauce are the real throughlines. A local chain, but one that has regulars debating grits versus potatoes, which is exactly the right argument to be having.

Handwritten chalkboard menus hang beneath a green-striped awning at this walk-up pasta and sandwich counter in Tucson's Historic Warehouse Arts District. The string-lit alley patio and colorful murals give it the feel of a side street in a city where people actually eat outside. Handmade pasta and house-baked bread use ingredients from local farms, and the crowd eating under red umbrellas looks very much at peace with their life choices.

Perched on a bluff in Princeville with the kind of view that makes you question every life choice that led you somewhere else, this resort earns a Michelin Key by doing luxury in the new mode: no golf-blazer stuffiness, just rooms that are quietly smart, a spa and fitness setup that spares nothing, and sustainability woven in so thoroughly the jungle nearly swallows the building whole.

EEM is a Thai restaurant that also happens to run a Texas barbecue pit, which is the kind of sentence that sounds like a dare and somehow works. Brisket burnt ends land in coconut curry, and the BBQ fried rice arrives with plenty of heat. You eat at sidewalk huts or in the café-bar, pay prices that stay friendly, and tackle the tropical drinks with the urgency of people who parked six blocks away.

Red booths, a Rat Pack haze, and martinis that mean business: A Restaurant is the kind of old-school American steakhouse that Newport Beach keeps expecting someone to replace and never does. Niman Ranch pork chops and Mary's organic chicken anchor the menu alongside the steaks, and the chicken pot pie appears only on Mondays and Fridays, which somehow makes regulars plan their week around it.

Jasmine fried rice loaded with fried egg and Chinese sausage arrives under two thick slabs of smoked brisket, which is the entire thesis of this family-run barbecue spot on Highway 6. The chef turned a backyard hobby into a line that wraps around the parking lot, and the crowd moves through faster than you'd expect. Pork ribs get the same patient smoke treatment. This is the kind of place where ordering anything else feels like a distraction.

The two-story dining room pulls off a plausible New Orleans impression without leaving Baltimore, which is the whole point. This Cajun and Creole restaurant runs on the late Paul Prudhomme's influence, and the kitchen leans into Maryland pantry staples to keep the gumbo and jambalaya from feeling like a costume. The Sazerac, New Orleans' official cocktail, is on the menu, and ordering one is the correct move.

Gruyere popovers with charred onion butter have their own devoted following here, which tells you most of what you need to know about this North Loop gastropub. Foreign & Domestic has been a neighborhood fixture long enough that regulars treat the menu like a contract. Seasonal dishes rotate, but the charcuterie and those popovers don't move, and the tasting menu leans into less common cuts for anyone feeling ambitious.

Hemenway's is a seafood grill on South Main Street that recently shook off its stuffy streak and went back to the flash of its 1985 roots. The menu runs from raw bar towers and local crudo to caviar-topped waffles and stuffed lobster. It's a dress-nicely, bring-a-card sort of dinner, though the bar works fine for oysters and a glass of albariño. AAA gives it three diamonds, if you need to tell the parents.

Coastal Italian seafood in Milwaukee Junction, with exposed ceilings, soft lighting, and a ground-level view of Grand Boulevard setting the mood. The chef honed his craft at a two-Michelin-starred New York kitchen before coming home to the Great Lakes, and the menu shows it: raw oysters, salt-baked branzino, ink-dark lumache with crab and shrimp. Downstairs, a cozy bar called the Upright handles cocktails and small plates for those not committed to a full sit-down.

Seng Luangrath is widely credited with bringing Laotian food to the DC dining conversation, and this Falls Church strip-mall restaurant is where that reputation took root. The menu leans into bright, lime-forward salads, fragrant soups, and banana-leaf-wrapped fish, with a crispy coconut-rice salad that regulars treat as non-negotiable. Homestyle Laotian cooking in a room that's casual enough for a weeknight but specific enough to feel like a find.

The paper cocktail napkins tucked under the stemware haven't changed since the '90s, and that's the point. SNOB is an old-school Charleston dining room that made local, seasonal Southern cooking a serious proposition before it was a trend. Day boat fish arrives crispy outside and tender within, cornbread is non-negotiable, and the butterbeans are exactly right. The room carries its era comfortably, and the kitchen cooks like the legacy is watching.

The hama chili and a milk-and-cereal dessert that somehow became an Austin institution tell you exactly where Tyson Cole's priorities are. This is a polished Japanese restaurant in Rosedale with a sushi counter, a full bar, patio, and table service, so there's no wrong way to sit. The bar draws a crowd worth watching, and happy hour makes the whole upscale operation feel a little more negotiable.

A roadside Italian restaurant on the drive out to Johns Island that rewards slowing down. The menu turns with the seasons, so regulars come back often enough that the staff tends to recognize them. Pasta, charred octopus, and vegetables sourced from local farmers the chef has worked with across a long Charleston career all show up regularly. The room handles birthdays, date nights, and mothers with equal composure.

A converted gas station on Rutledge, where the bar runs down the center like a spine and the bartenders are always shaking something. Xiao Bao Biscuit is a casual dinner spot whose chef cuts across Japanese, Thai, and Chinese without pretending to be any of them, which is exactly the point. Tell your server you can handle heat, because the menu leans into it, and the bottle-aged cocktails built on Asian flavors are a reasonable extinguisher.

Mekong Palace is a big dim sum hall tucked inside the Mekong Plaza shopping center, with round tables for large groups and carts that roll past at a steady clip. The menu runs two pages, but most people just point at whatever goes by, which is the whole system. Expect a loud, happy room of families and big parties, and a smaller selection at dinner than at brunch or lunch.

A mother-and-son Cajun and soul food restaurant where the menu shifts with the day of the week: catfish on Fridays, wings on Wednesdays, Sharon's soul food the first Sunday of the month. Their Louisiana and Mississippi roots show in a shrimp étouffée that's lighter and brighter than you'd expect, and a beef debris over grits that rewards patience. Hong Kong-style praline French toast with cardamom and fennel is either the strangest thing on the menu or the most logical.

A century-old YMCA in East Liberty that local artists helped reimagine rather than just move into. The Ace is a hotel where spare, sunny rooms coexist with ornate bones, suites come stocked with turntables and acoustic guitars, and the lobby fills daily with the laptop-open, coffee-nursing crowd. The anchor bar, Whitfield, runs a neighborhood-tavern menu with meat butchered in-house from a single nearby ranch.

Hyatt's Andaz label trades the standard resort playbook for a luxury-boutique register, and at Wailea it has a coastline that does most of the heavy lifting. This is a full-scale Maui resort where the Pacific sets the mood and the property leans into it rather than competing with it. The kind of place where the surroundings are so absurdly good that a decent hotel would coast; this one declines to merely coast.