The Best Places in the United States

Pepino is a daytime bakeshop and cafe on a La Jolla side street, where sandwiches, salads, and burritos carry quiet Peruvian accents. It serves lunch only, 11 to 3, and closes entirely Tuesdays and Wednesdays, so plan accordingly. The sun-lit patio is the move on a clear day, and inside it's small and warm, with the easy, neighborly feel of a place that knows your order. Eater lists it among San Diego's best lunch spots.

Perenn is a bakery and cafe in the Sidco industrial stretch, in the old Stay Golden space, which now doubles as the central production facility. That means you can eat a pain au chocolat on a mezzanine while watching the people who made it keep making more, a little like dinner theater with laminated dough. The croissants and kouign-amann are flaky enough to leave evidence on your shirt, and the almond croissant wants to be warmed.

The North Beach spot that used to be the legendary Washbag is now Petite Lil's, a French bistro that seems perpetually mid-renovation, with paint swatches on the walls and a sawhorse in the corner whose handler has quietly relocated to a barstool. The menu leans French, running from a proper omelet to a tomahawk steak with anchovy butter, and bone marrow arrives with an optional green Chartreuse luge, which is exactly the kind of upsell you say yes to.

The pianist in a bow tie playing show tunes while couples in cocktail attire eat caviar off gold-leafed tacos is either your scene or it isn't. This upscale piano bar inside the Bellagio has a front-row view of the Dale Chihuly glass ceiling and leans hard into the caviar service. Classics, bellinis and Negronis, are the move at the bar. James Bond would approve, though he'd probably skip the lavender basil lemon drop.

Pho Auntie 7 started as a home kitchen before becoming Castro Valley's go-to Vietnamese spot, and the soul of that origin still shows. It's a casual sit-down restaurant where the soups are good but the street food is the reason to linger: crispy banh xeo crepes stuffed with pork and shrimp, and chewy steamed banh beo rice cakes. Wash either down with fresh sugarcane juice or a salty plum soda and you're in no rush to leave.

Pho Thin is a pho shop whose signature move is wok-searing ribeye in garlic before it ever meets the bowl. The broth leans savory rather than the sweet, star-anise-heavy style common around DC, and the noodles are wide and chewy instead of threadlike. The Falls Church outpost of a Hanoi institution, it arrived already pulling crowds. Order the pickled raw garlic that comes to the table and don't leave it untouched.

A casual Vietnamese restaurant in Pittsburgh's Strip District where the walls feature a poster reading "Pho King Delicious," and the kitchen commits to its broth with equal conviction, simmering it for days. The pho comes loaded with options, tripe, meatballs, sliced beef, a solid chicken version, and the grilled plates hold up well enough to make the leftovers argument for you. A good stop before wandering the neighborhood's grocers and shops.

Pica's is a casual Mexican spot in a strip center behind an Albertsons in Wilson, which is not where you'd expect the town's best-regarded burrito to live. The burritos arrive large enough to cover two dinners, and ordering one "wet" buries it in chipotle enchilada sauce, salsa fresca, sour cream, and cheese. The room is plain, tables are rarely a fight, and takeout is clearly the main sport. The Infatuation put it on its Jackson Hole list.

You walk down a staircase into a basement that has been Polish since before your parents were born, all dark wood, stained glass, and checkered tablecloths. This is a Hamtramck cafe for stuffed cabbage, potato pancakes, and pierogi, served in portions that assume you've been shoveling snow. The bar does a fine Zywiec and a better view of the room, and the Infatuation lists it among Detroit's best restaurants.

This Russian restaurant on El Cajon Boulevard has walls covered in mismatched paintings and messages from past diners, plus a line of patient people on the sidewalk who'd like you to know the secret hideaway is not a secret. The menu runs to beef stroganoff, bright pink borscht, and a Georgian cheese bread boat that a server stirs tableside. Bring your own Sharpie if you want to leave a note on the wall.

A one-baker whole-grain bakery in San Rafael that runs on a newsletter, pre-orders, and the constant threat of selling out before you've finished your coffee. The baker behind it competed at the Coupe du Monde de la Boulangerie, which is the bread Olympics, and he won, but the menu here is squarely about whole grains, not trophies. Stock changes weekly, walk-ins get what's left, and the San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's best bakeries.

Teochew rice porridge, served in a clay pot, is what draws people to this casual Millbrae spot, and it does the job quietly and well. The gingery porridge is technically for two but has a way of multiplying when chive pancakes and an order of Chinese doughnuts join the table. Pick your add-ons, crab and prawn being the house move, then customize the bowl with scallions and preserved olive vegetables at the table.

This is a counter-service coffee shop that runs on Vietnamese robusta, the bolder, heavier-hitting cousin of the arabica your usual café leans on. The bánh mì comes stuffed enough that you'll wonder if the menu is a typo, and the seasonal drinks swing from jasmine tea with lychee and blackberry to a passionfruit espresso tonic. It's the rare café where people order lunch first and then remember they also wanted coffee.

The roastery is right there behind the counter, so the smell hits you before the menu does. Portrait Coffee is a specialty coffee shop and roaster in West End, founded by a collective that set out to bring more diverse representation to Atlanta's coffee scene. The beans are roasted on-site inside the historic Lottie Watkins Building, and the same coffee turns up at shops across the city for those who can't make the trip.

Postern Coffee lives inside the Minhwa Spirits space in Doraville, which sounds like an odd arrangement until you're holding an espresso built with sweet rice syrup and perilla oil and suddenly it makes sense. The coffee shop leans into the Asian-American backgrounds of its three co-founders, so the menu runs from coconut ube lattes to carefully sourced matcha options. A young, curious crowd that knows the neighborhood fills the room.

A Polish deli counter tucked into the back corner of Buffalo's old Broadway Market, where the pierogies come stuffed with sauerkraut or farmers cheese and the czarnina, a sweet-sour soup made with dried fruit and blood, sorts out the curious from the committed. Polish sausage rounds out a short, unapologetic menu. The market itself draws extra vendors around Easter, but the deli draws regulars year-round who already know exactly what they're getting.

A biergarten tucked into one of downtown Wilmington's favorite old spaces, Prost lands somewhere between the Rhine and the Cape Fear River, serving schnitzel and spaetzle alongside fried flounder sandwiches without any apparent crisis of identity. The pretzel board with cheese sauce and beer mustard is the move if you're just in for a pint. The tap list runs both European and American, so nobody has to compromise.

A Salvadoran pupuseria in a Rockville strip mall, run by a family whose roots in the craft go back a generation in El Salvador. The menu runs nearly 30 styles, from the classic cheese-and-chicharrón to shrimp with mint and kale, all served hot off the griddle and freshly blistered. The New York Times put it on their D.C. restaurant list. Come at breakfast and order the signature pupusa with eggs in a red sauce that has no business being that good.

The empanada is the whole point here, and the team makes them by hand every morning in flavors that cover more ground than you'd expect: mushroom-seitan for vegans, halal lamb, a breakfast version, and several more. This bright, compact downtown spot runs the full Ecuadorian-inflected menu, from arroz con pollo with sweet plantains to a pork sandwich with chipotle-lime mayo. A grab-and-go case handles the lunch rush when it comes.

A red neon sign flicks on outside when the burgers start flipping, which tells you most of what you need to know about this greasy spoon parked in the literal shadow of Bryant-Denny Stadium. The walls are buried in Alabama memorabilia, including an actual stadium seat and a confiscated orange construction flag, because no orange survives near this building. The menu runs on the same devotion: burgers and breakfasts named after championship counts.

A rambling hacienda-style New Mexican restaurant set in a maze of adobe rooms and tiled patios along the High Road to Taos, Rancho De Chimayó has been around forever and moves at a pace that matches the landscape. The house cocktail mixes cider and tequila, a local invention from the area's apple-farming days. Order the green chile stew alongside it and you'll understand why people drive out from Santa Fe just for lunch.

A Middle Eastern breakfast cafe in the Gilbert suburbs, Rayoog has other locations in Jordan and Iraq, which gives you a sense of what this place is actually for. The move is to come with people willing to share: platters arrive loaded with eggs, hummus, falafel, yogurt, fava beans, and baba ghanoush, and the signature trays stack two metal teapots on top of a ring of small sweet and savory dishes, which is a genuinely dramatic way to start a morning.

The she-crab soup has been on the menu forever, and regulars treat it as non-negotiable. Red Sky is a casual all-day cafe in Duck running lunch, dinner, and Sunday brunch, the kind of place that does fish tacos and short ribs under the same roof without making it feel like an identity crisis. The OBX spin on a Calabash platter draws a crowd, and Sunday brunch brings out a shrimp-and-risotto dish billed, cheerfully, as "Redneck."

The entrance is a walk-in freezer door at the back of an ice cream shop, which sets the tone perfectly. Behind it is a sci-fi cocktail lounge with a glowing backbar and B movies running on the wall, where the drinks are named after cult films and built with ingredients that require a moment to process. The kind of bar that rewards people who ask questions.

You enter through the alley behind Easy Street Records, following a painted 'R' on the wall, which is either thrillingly covert or a lot of effort for a cocktail bar, depending on your mood. Inside, a 70s-futurist room with chic lighting anchors a menu built entirely around Black-owned breweries, distilleries, and wineries. The DJ booth fills most nights, running from Afrobeat to soul, and the cocktails are serious enough to deserve your full attention before the music gets loud.

The larb comes one way: hot or Thai hot, and the co-owner will tell you which to order. This neighborhood Thai bistro in North Miami runs on Isan flavors, the kind that are fragrant and punchy in equal measure, and the whole fried snapper with house chile sauce has regulars coming back for it specifically. The New York Times named it among Miami's 25 best restaurants. Small room, big cooking, and Ricky himself helps out over the summer.

The handmade corn tortillas here taste like an actual ear of corn decided to become a taco, and they're sturdy enough to hold the juiciest fillings without folding on you. This taqueria sits near Lake Merritt, which makes eating outside feel less like a picnic and more like a civic event. Classic fillings, snappy carrot pickles, and carnitas that manage to be both chewy and crisp, from a team that grew up in East Oakland taco royalty.

House-made pita arrives before anything else at this Mediterranean restaurant in north Oklahoma City's Chisholm Creek development, and the table tends to fill fast with hummus, baba ghanoush, and muhammara before the shareable mains show up. The chef pulls from Greece, Morocco, the Levant, and occasionally the Basque Country, which is either inspired range or a very long grocery list. Braised lamb shank and tajine-braised short ribs anchor the menu.

The patio fireplace faces the Black Warrior River, which is either a nice coincidence or the whole point. River is a sit-down Southern restaurant with a menu that moves from fried green tomatoes and wild game meatballs to shrimp and grits and steaks. The room skews cozy, the crowd runs loyal, and the homemade oatmeal creme pie is apparently a nod to a certain famous former football coach's breakfast habits.

A honky-tonk on lower Broadway where the band plays for tips, the cowboy boots for sale hang on the wall, and a High Life costs about what it did when your dad was young. The kitchen turns out fried bologna sandwiches and cheeseburgers off a griddle, which suits the steel guitar fine. It smells like leather and fryer grease, and the tourists who wandered in for one beer tend to stay through the second set.

Rosa is a neighborhood coffee shop in Rosedale, named for the owner's great-grandmother, who was among the first Black residents to move to the area. The pastel pink and green room serves Fast Haus beans, a short run of pastries and sandwiches, and doubles as a spot for community meetings. Evenings bring DJ sets, open mic, and karaoke, so check the socials before assuming it's a quiet latte situation.

Rosé and Rye is a cocktail bar parked next to Crisp, where the kids run the show, so consider this the 21-plus annex where the adults retreat. The menu leans on riffs like a cherry-vanilla-foam Negroni, and the patio is built for lingering with friends over charcuterie, marinated nuts, and olives. Industry Night settles your tab with a coin flip, so you pay five dollars or full price, depending on your luck.

Hat Yai-style fried chicken is the reason to know this casual Berkeley Thai spot, where a rice flour batter does double duty as marinade and delivers a thin, shattering crust topped with fried shallots. You order from a touch screen, the staff will walk you through the menu, and the sweet chile sauce that comes alongside is fine, but the prik nam pla is the move.

Rosette is a grocery store with a cafe attached, or the reverse, and it lives on the ground floor of a Corktown apartment building, which means some of the people ordering a latte are technically just coming downstairs. You can grab milk and pantry staples, then sit at one of the many tables with a Colombe espresso and a cinnamon rolls-and-croissants situation from Zingerman's. Cheap, casual, no dress code beyond pants.