The Best Places in the United States

The bread here goes out every morning to restaurant kitchens across Greenville before most people are awake. Rise is a West Greenville bakery where lacquered croissants and cardamom buns share the case with country loaves built for serious sandwiches. Lunch brings hot and cold options, Instagram stories flag the week's featured pastries, and the holiday lineup, king cakes, hot cross buns, galette des rois, suggests the team has a thing for occasions.

The sauce arrives on the side at this Houston barbecue joint, which tells you something about the confidence in the pit. Brisket, jalapeño cheddar sausage, and smoked turkey anchor the menu, but a "Something Different" section runs brisket mac and cheese and loaded fries that could pass for a full meal. The rotating sandwich specials are worth checking before you order anything else, especially the pastrami Reuben.

Four drink menus sorted into categories like "Underappreciated & Misunderstood" and "Rustic & Complex" tell you exactly what kind of wine bar this is. Root & Flower is a cozy, chic spot tucked in Vail Village where fifty wines pour by the glass and the tapas menu is substantial enough to skip a proper dinner after a day on the mountain. Walk-ins welcome, though groups of four or more should book through Resy.

Susan Spicer's Mid City neighborhood restaurant is the kind of place where the shrimp creole does all the talking. A casual Cajun and Creole spot, Rosedale keeps the cooking steeped in New Orleans tradition without any of the ceremony that follows a celebrated chef around town. The room is low-key, the food is direct, and the whole operation runs like it was built for the people on the block, not the people writing about it.

Rosemarie's is a casual beach-town burger and beer joint on Coast Highway, the kind of place where flip-flops count as dressing up. The wings are fried in duck fat and come in flavors like honey buffalo with ranch zig-zags and blue cheese crumbles, teriyaki, and mango habanero. Eater listed them among San Diego's best chicken wings. A dozen runs under twenty bucks, and the draft list rotates, so the pairing tends to sort itself out.

Rubi's Tacos is a Pilsen taqueria that started as a stall at Maxwell Street Market and kept the market's sense of urgency. Tortillas come in blue, yellow, or nopal and are made to order, which is why a line forms and nobody complains about it. Guisados run from beef tongue to chicharrón to zucchini blossom, so vegetarians and the tongue-curious both get fed. Expect cheap, fast, and no dress code beyond pants.

The name comes from the Italian habit of dragging bread through whatever sauce is left in the bowl, and the kitchen here gives you plenty of reason to do exactly that. Scarpetta is a polished Italian restaurant on the Strip, the kind of place where you dress a little and the pasta justifies it. Tableside paccheri in truffle cream is a reliable splurge, and the agnolotti with short rib and bone marrow lands somewhere between rustic and indulgent.

Scarr's is a New York slice shop that somehow got airlifted onto the Strip, wood paneling and marquee menu board intact. The owner reportedly spent weeks reworking his dough to account for Vegas tap water, which is a level of devotion usually reserved for sourdough starters and ex-girlfriends. Order at the counter, grab a hot honey pepperoni slice, and eat standing up like the pizza gods intended. Eater has named it the best pizza in Las Vegas.

Scooptopia is a small ice cream shop on Central Avenue, a satellite of the Scooptacular operation out in Laveen, serving a wide run of that kitchen's flavors. The scoops lean playful, with Playdough in three pastel stripes, bubble gum, and birthday cake. Sundaes and milkshakes are on offer too, so you can eat dessert in the shape of a meal. Expect a short line, a paper cup, and no dress code.

The yeasted waffle is what people come back for at this daytime diner on Macarthur, light enough to make the standard griddle version feel like a practical joke. Sequoia keeps the American breakfast plate honest while also running a loco moco where the gravy soaks into Koda Farms white rice in a way that feels earned. They cure their own pork belly, make three hot sauces in-house, and generally behave like a diner with something to prove.

Detroit-style squares with names like Sausage Singularity come out of this space-themed pizzeria on Elston, where the kitchen leans hard into technique. The crust is the point: crispy-edged, airy inside, the way a proper Detroit pie should land. Toppings skew eclectic, and the combinations are stranger and better than they sound. Order online for pickup, which is half the charm of a slice shop that takes itself just seriously enough.

Shelby is a basement cocktail bar in the Financial District, where finding the door is the first round of the evening. Downstairs, the drinks run from a proper espresso martini to a pineapple Averna negroni riff, backed by shared plates like beef tartare and a mushroom dish that politely impersonates escargot. It was a James Beard semifinalist for outstanding bar program. Book on Resy so you only get lost once.

The pastry case here draws comparisons to a jewelry counter, which tracks once you see the Totoro-shaped choux au craquelin lined up inside it. This Japanese patisserie and bento lunch spot sells out by mid-afternoon daily, so arriving at opening is less a suggestion than a survival strategy. The lunch boxes are tightly packed, the roulades come in flavors like matcha and Kula lavender, and the chefs keep changing things, which delights and frustrates regulars equally.

This is an all-you-can-eat barbecue joint on Spring Mountain Road that keeps late-night pub hours and a soft spot for the '80s, complete with live music. You grill brisket, pork belly, and teriyaki chicken at the table, then alternate with kimchi fried rice and tteokbokki. Drinks arrive in shareable pitchers of blueberry lemon drop and pina colada, so nobody here is pretending to be on a diet. Prices stay friendly.

Side Hustle Lounge is a cocktail bar tucked into the Belt Alley, next door to its partner restaurant Mootz Pizza, and it skips the 1920s speakeasy costume for midcentury modern with a retro Vegas streak. The drinks run bright, sometimes electric, with a Detroit lean, like the Detroit Sour's red wine float. Pizza from Mootz arrives alongside, so it's grandpa's basement, if grandpa had a much better bar.

Vegan kolaches stuffed with plant-based sausage, bacon, egg, and cheese are the kind of thing that makes you stop arguing about what veganism can and can't do. This Midtown bakery has been supplying Houston coffee shops with its pastries for years, so there's a decent chance you've already eaten here without knowing it. The Everything Bar, loaded with nuts, dried fruit, and chocolate chips, is a regular reason to come back.

Four styles sit behind the glass at this casual slice shop from celebrity pizzaiolo Tony Gemignani: New York thin, Sicilian, grandma, and Detroit. You point, they reheat, you fold. The New York slices have that stiff-but-pliable thing that makes eating while standing feel like a skill. The grandma squares come thick, with ricotta pooled on top. Everything is straightforward, no reservations, no ambiance to speak of, just good pizza by the slice.

SMKD is a casual Henderson barbecue joint whose name is an anagram, a bit of wordplay that tells you the owners also like puzzles. You order at a plate-and-sides counter, and the meat runs from brisket and burnt ends to smoked pastrami, with a barbecue head of cauliflower for the vegetarian at the table. The sides lean ambitious, potato kugel and sweet potato hush puppies included, so wear something forgiving.

Korean-style shaved ice, known as bingsu, is the whole point here, served in bowls almost too pretty to disturb. Snowy Village is a casual international chain with a University District outpost where the milk-ice shavings come out feather-light and piled with toppings. The classic order leans into sweet red beans, chewy injeolmi rice cakes, and a dusting of soybean powder, though mango and Oreo versions exist for the less traditional.

Korean barbecue is still a rare find in Wine Country, and Soban fills that gap with galbi and grilled chicken arriving on hot iron platters. The house kimchi ferments for at least four weeks, and every banchan is made from scratch, which regulars tend to notice. The front-of-house team is happy to walk newcomers through the menu, so first-timers don't have to pretend they already know everything.

The pressed French bread announces itself before you even bite down, cracking loud enough to turn heads. Sol Food is a casual Puerto Rican spot in San Rafael with outposts around Marin, built around hot-pressed sandwiches that pull serious lunch crowds. The Paraíso swaps the expected cheese-steak script by folding in ripe plantains, and the Cubano is one of the few worth seeking out in the county.

Sophia's Brunch Counter is a counter-service daytime spot in a curved, metal-wrapped building that looks like it was meant for something with more ceremony. Inside, a chalky green marble counter and a lot of plants set a slow, airy, vaguely coastal mood. The menu stays small, bouncing between comfort food and lighter plates, with espresso up front and a little wine and cocktails behind it. Eater put it on its list of Phoenix's best brunches.