The Best Places in the United States

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.

La Perlita is an Overlook coffee shop that treats the latte as a chance to bring in rosewater, cardamom, dulce de leche, and smoky chile pasilla. There's enough room to spread a laptop out, though the menu makes a strong case for abandoning your inbox. The mocha comes with chocolate and warm spices, and a concha under rainbow sprinkles sits next to it. The Infatuation put it on a list of Portland's best coffee shops.

A Mexican grocery and taqueria that has been making its own tortillas and masa since forever, La Tapatia is the kind of place where the carnitas come out of trays in the front and into your burrito in the back. The chile relleno burrito, built around a melty cheese-stuffed poblano, is the move. Everything is made in-house, it's takeout only, and the San Francisco Chronicle has called it one of the Bay Area's finest.

The Pink Lady, as La Jolla calls its landmark hotel, serves lunch in a pink-walled Mediterranean Room, on a terrace over the Pacific, or poolside, and the menu barely changes between them. Wagyu burgers and ahi poke nachos sit beside steak frites, so you can dress as casually as the ocean view allows. It's a resort lunch priced like one, and the palm trees are part of the cover charge.

La Ventana is a minimalist coffee shop in Eastern Market, pouring Intelligentsia espresso from a U-shaped bar built for long chats with the barista. Toddlers get elevated bleacher seating to climb around on, while laptop people claim the two-top tables and pretend not to notice. Pastries and breakfast burritos cover the snacking, and evenings often bring local artists or music, so the place keeps going after the caffeine does.

La Viña is a Cuban restaurant in Hialeah that looks like a grandparent's den, with wood paneling and sunwashed family photos watching you eat. Bring cash, because the card reader is a rumor. Bring an appetite too, since portions are built for leftovers, and the big bottle of vinegar and peppers on the table is meant for pouring on everything. The Infatuation ranks it among Miami's top restaurants.

A miniature wrestling ring doubles as the karaoke stage, which tells you everything about the Lariat Bar's priorities. This White Center dive is floor-to-ceiling WWE memorabilia with an actual craft cocktail menu, a combination that shouldn't work as well as it does. The nonalcoholic drinks are listed under "Kayfabe," a wrestling term for keeping the fiction alive, which is either the nerdiest menu label in Seattle or the most honest one.

Persian cooking is rare in San Francisco, and Lavash has been one of the city's few serious addresses for it. The kebab plates arrive piled over rice on wide sheets of flatbread, which is both a practical move and a slightly theatrical one. The tahdig, all crackle and crust, is the thing regulars come back for. Tables spill into a roofed parklet when the Sunset fog cooperates, which is optimistic but charming.

Le Central's neon sign above Bush Street has been announcing the cassoulet day count for what feels like forever, and the number is well into the five figures. This is an old-school French bistro, white tablecloths against exposed brick, curved booths, faux stained glass overhead. The cassoulet, duck and sausage and beans in a sauce that folds in a bit of the previous day's batch, is the reason regulars never open the menu.

A pink-and-purple French bakery in Potrero Hill where the canelés arrive with a deeply caramelized crust and a custardy, rum-scented interior. The menu rotates around French technique with a tropical detour: passion fruit, calamansi, coconut lavender. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's best bakeries, which feels obvious the moment the smell of vanilla and rum reaches you at the door.

Bruno Chemel ran one of the Peninsula's more ambitious tasting-menu restaurants for years; this is not that. Le Parc Bistrobar, tucked into a hotel near Union Square, is a French bistro and cocktail bar that leans classic, with oxtails braised in red wine until the meat nearly dissolves into the sauce. Christie Chemel's cocktail list runs deep on Chartreuse and Pineau des Charentes, which is either a selling point or a warning depending on your relationship with French liqueurs.

A live tank of crabs and fish greets you at the door of this spacious Cupertino dim sum hall, which hits peak chaos on weekends when families fill the room and steamer crates stack up fast. The taro puff shaped like a swan, stuffed with scallop-flavored taro, is the kind of thing that makes the table go quiet for a second. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's best for dim sum.

Lestat's On Park is a 24-hour coffee shop in University Heights, named for the Anne Rice vampire novels, which explains the fake chandeliers, the peeling wallpaper, and the giant corner couch that seems to have outlasted several decades of hairstyles. There's no air conditioning and the decor never left the '90s. The baristas run grumpy but know their espresso, and the sandwiches are there for 3 a.m. emergencies.

The Linebacker Lounge, known to everyone as "the Backer," is a South Bend college bar near campus where students and football fans dance to classic rock and pop hits and pay prices that feel like a clerical error. The kitchen is better than it needs to be, turning out barbecue burgers, a crispy chicken sandwich, and wings in sauces ranging from Caribbean jerk to vindaloo. Go for a postgame meal, or stay and see how late it gets.

Little Liberia is a Liberian sit-down restaurant on Detroit's east side, where the grill does most of the talking and the table fills up faster than anyone planned. Expect smoky shrimp, collards with bits of beef, a whole fried snapper, and cocktails that lean on tamarind and ginger. The room is quiet and gallery-like, with real art on the walls, so it suits a date for people who'd rather talk than watch a steak arrive.

This is a coffeehouse on El Cajon Boulevard that treats the couch as a shared resource, and you may end up splitting one with a stranger from another generation. SDSU students fill the hightops with open textbooks and gossip, and a wall of broken clocks has quietly given up on telling anyone when to leave. It's open until 11pm every night, with omelettes and paninis on the menu and a cool-weather patio.

A Southern bakery with a drive-through window, which in Hattiesburg feels less like a convenience and more like a statement of values. The team here turns out croissants, bagels, fruit pies, and sausage biscuits that the New York Times called out among its picks for standout U.S. bakeries. The place is the first bakery from Robert St. John, a local figure who has been feeding this corner of Mississippi for decades through restaurants, cookbooks, and TV.

Local is a steakhouse-leaning American restaurant on Cache Street where the napkins are white linen, a small act of rebellion in a town that mostly hands you paper. Local artists' paintings hang on the walls, and the kitchen sources from as close by as it can. The burger is a blend of three steak cuts, which feels right for Jackson, and the bar will happily serve you fries. The Infatuation put it on its list of the 15 best restaurants in Jackson Hole.

Longplay is a listening-room coffee shop, which means you hand over your laptop ambitions at the door and get a rule sheet in return. The pitch is vinyl on a serious sound system, cold brew, and drinks that dress up like cocktails, think yuzu highball and a fluffy black sesame mochi. Hours are short, weekends only, and posted on Instagram, so check before you go and plan to arrive before last call.

Lookout Tavern is a north Phoenix sports bar with something like 50 screens, so the real challenge is finding a wall that isn't showing a game. It's also the Steelers headquarters during football season, which means plenty of black and gold in the desert. Trivia, bingo, and UFC watch parties fill the calendar, and the weekend brunch involves shareable cocktails. Sliders and loaded fries cover the food side, and two patios handle the rest.

A beer hall in East Liberty built around 14-inch, wood-fired Neapolitan pies that were designed to be passed around a long communal table. The cacio e pepe pizza and the spicy pepperoni with house hot honey are regulars on the menu; weekly specials rotate through whatever's local and seasonal. Kölsch, Italian pilsners, and a Franconian pale smoke lager share the drinks list with wine and amaro flights, which should tell you something about the crowd's ambitions.

Everything cooks over open white-oak fires behind a tattered ranch house on Johns Island, sailcloth and outdoor chandeliers overhead, the smoke visible from the road. The chef grew up in North Georgia and knows his Lowcountry, so collards and roasted clams show up alongside chimichurri and tamarind. The New York Times put it on their 2024 Restaurant List. Arrive hungry enough for the charred semolina sourdough that lands first, and don't skip the carrots.

A former Marine and a former basketball player walked into an empty storefront in the historic Greenwood District, and the result is a wing shop where the attorney co-owner still keeps his day job. The Oklahoma Dry Rub and the Mack, a recipe nobody's sharing, are the regulars' picks. Kimberly usually runs the counter herself, which gives the whole operation a family-kitchen feel that's hard to fake.