The Best Places in the United States

Wine carafes priced the way carafes should be priced, and octopus skewers landing on paper-covered tables beside tzatziki and spanakopita, all of it meant for sharing. Kiki's is a neighborhood Greek taverna on the Lower East Side that got so popular the team opened an identical spot across the street for overflow, which is either very practical or very on-brand for the neighborhood. Usually easy to get a table, which says something.

Kinjiro is a small, quiet izakaya in Little Tokyo that seats two sittings a night, and you get in by emailing for a reservation like it's 2004. The dining room is hushed enough that you'll hear the uni risotto being scooped. Plenty of the regulars greet the chef by name and order from every section of the menu, so a mix of sushi, sake, and small plates like grilled onigiri is the move.

Kita Steak & Ribs is a steakhouse run like a family business, which it is, with grill-dad barbecue given a Vietnamese accent. It began in a Hillsboro strip mall with a short menu and a loyal following packed into very little room, and it has since moved into nicer digs in Beaverton. The menu has grown a bit, but the beef is still the point. Eater lists it among Portland's best restaurants and food carts.

Kulture is a sit-down comfort food restaurant steps from the George R. Brown Convention Center, where Caribbean and Southern cooking share one menu and nobody makes them fight about it. Gumbo opens things, there's an oxtail melt, and brunch gets theatrical with crab-topped catfish and grits. Happy hour runs all day on Astros home game days, which is a generous reading of the word "hour."

Kwok's Bistro is a casual, stand-alone Cantonese-leaning Chinese restaurant just west of the big downtown casinos, which is about as far from a buffet as Reno gets. The chef, a former casino busboy, takes days to prepare the Beijing duck, so ordering it is a commitment. Wok-fired dishes lean on garlic and ginger, and the lamb brings real heat. The chef was a James Beard Best Chef: Southwest semifinalist.

La Condesa is a Mexican fusion restaurant in a former car repair shop on Wells Avenue, where the roll-up garage doors now open onto a patio courtyard. The menu wanders freely, with crab mac and cheese, Kobe beef ravioli, and a steakburger stacked with pork belly. Hand-painted murals share the walls with celebrity mug shots, and the pop hits on the video screen suit the cocktails, which skip the sugary syrup.

A giant pink monkey painted on the outside wall tells you what you're getting into, and the stained-glass windows and colorful ceiling fixtures inside keep the theme going. This is a lively, casual Mexican spot in East Fremont serving tacos, flautas, and seafood, plus loaded fries that count as a starter if you're generous. Weekend brunch goes full pink, with rosy cocktails and a mimosa flight.

This is a family-run New York-style pizzeria on India Street, selling slices and whole pies at the kind of prices that won't require a conversation with your accountant. Little Italy mostly closes up early, and this is one of the few spots still serving on weekend nights, which makes it popular with people who skipped dinner or want a second one. Wings, salads, and Italian-meat paninis sit alongside a pie named after the Sopranos, because of course.

Lansdowne is a fine-dining room behind an exposed brick facade, where the service is the attentive, old-fashioned kind that notices your glass before you do. The seasonal menu runs to beef tartare and scallops perched on maitakes, plated with care but without the tweezers or the portions that make you stop for a burger afterward. The wine list stays strictly Oregon and Washington, which turns out to be a wider world than it sounds. It's on Eater's list of Portland's best restaurants and food carts.

Las Cazuelas is a family-run Salvadoran restaurant on Figueroa where the recipes come down through the owner's mother, and nobody seems inclined to edit them. Pupusas are the draw, the revuelta with crisped chicharron and a three-cheese stretch in particular. The leather booths are roomy, the prices are easy, and the back lot has parking, a rarity in Highland Park that feels almost like a dare.

This Gaslamp patisserie lets you do France on a lunch break: grab a croissant at the counter and keep walking, or sit down for a quiche Lorraine or a crêpe folded around Nutella and strawberries. The cases are lined with macarons, and the iced coffees come in flavors like coconut and cinnamon brown sugar, which is not how anyone in Lyon takes their coffee. Dress is whatever got you through the Gaslamp.

Leo's sits next to the River Oaks Theatre and plays a New York supper club, which in Houston means a 28-ounce porterhouse, lobster thermidor, and a side of potatoes dauphinoise nobody ordered for the table but everyone eats. Dinner here is a dressed-up, wallet-forward affair. There are four Old Fashioneds, one of them an Elvis-inspired peanut butter and banana situation, so the bar is clearly not here to be polite.

Liberty started as a butcher shop and sandwich counter, and the meat is still broken down in the basement, from a ranch down in Minden, before it meets the wood-fired oven upstairs. It's a casual downtown Reno restaurant a few steps from the Riverwalk, where black-and-white photos of 1980s celebrities watch over the dining room. Mark Estee runs it, and he's about as close as Reno gets to a local celebrity chef.

A two-level seafood restaurant in the Pendry Hotel, where the Gaslamp's night-out dinner crowd comes dressed for it and the menu leans on sustainable fish. Sushi-bar nigiri and oysters make an easy opening act, and the real commitment is a whole grilled fish or a wagyu tomahawk the size of a toddler's arm. Reserve ahead, because everyone else already thought of this.

Little Rey is the casual, all-day Mexican spot from restaurateur Ford Fry, the one where you can order breakfast chalupas at eight and a margarita at noon without anyone blinking. Tacos come in every direction, and the half chicken roasted over coals arrives with tortillas and ranch beans for assembling at the table. Soft-serve in tres leches or salty cajeta is the correct way to close out a meal. Come in whatever you're already wearing.

Lou & Mickey's is a Gaslamp steakhouse with a lounge attached, built on the idea that a chophouse should still look like a chophouse. The beef gets aged in-house for a month, and the menu runs from grass-fed rib-eye to Japanese wagyu, with halibut and clam linguine for anyone dragged along against their will. It holds AAA Three Diamonds, so expect an expense-account dinner, not a quick bite before the ballgame.

Lumi is a rooftop restaurant in the Gaslamp where Akira Back's Nikkei cooking, Japanese technique with Peruvian instincts, comes with downtown views and fire pits. Wagyu gets cooked tableside on hot stones, so dinner doubles as supervised arts and crafts. A highball machine handles the drinks, a mystery box handles the decisions, and on Mondays you can get a discount if you can prove you live in San Diego.

A Sichuan restaurant on York Boulevard with a bright green facade that makes it hard to walk past, even if you're committed to a different dinner. The cooking leans on the chef's Chengdu roots while poking at newer ideas, and the wings and fries come dusted in ground spices, which is how fries should be seasoned. The noodles are handmade nearby, and they're the reason to bring a table full of people.

The restaurant attached to Hauser & Wirth's Soho gallery, Manuela runs lunch, dinner, and brunch inside an interior wild enough to distract you from the menu. The original location in Los Angeles keeps live chickens on the premises; New York wisely does not. The all-day menu leans Mediterranean-ish, crudo and carpaccio giving way to grilled fish and roasted lamb, the kind of food that photographs well and also tastes like food.

Clam-shaped pendant lights from Fritz Hansen set the tone at Marée, a French-California bistro and wine bar that sits just above the chef's Michelin-starred Lielle, a little more relaxed and a little less reverent. The menu leans on French technique and California produce, moving through truffled onion soup and escargot beignets toward pastas and a bouillabaisse, with pillar candles and a green onyx bar keeping things properly moody throughout.

Maria Luisa is an empanada shop in a garage-like Ballard space, the kind of place where lunch means a few high-top tables and a paper bag. The fillings run from creamy spinach to chorizo to plain cheese, and the chimichurri alongside would be welcome in packet form for the glovebox. Takeout is easy, even for a family-sized order, and the alfajores filled with dulce de leche cover dessert. Nobody dresses up for this.

Masu is an omakase sushi counter that sits at the quiet end of the sushi spectrum, where nobody has ever draped a roll in roe or a squiggle of spicy mayo. The dozen or so courses are mostly about the fish itself, cut with the care of someone sizing a diamond, with the occasional hit of yuzu or grapefruit kosho. It's a sit-down, plan-your-evening, reservation-minded sort of dinner, and Eater has it on its best Portland list.

A food hall in West Adams where the stalls read like a who's-who of L.A.'s best operators: Thai fried chicken from the Holy Basil crew, tlayudas from Poncho's, tamales and weekend barbacoa from Tamales Elena. The rotating pop-up slot keeps regulars guessing, and Sook sells Levantine pantry goods alongside pre-packaged dishes for the commute home. The full-service Maydan restaurant anchors the back with hearth-fired Lebanese-leaning spreads and whole roasted mains.

Mean Sandwich is a small sandwich shop with a giant open mouth for a logo, which is also the face you'll make at the counter. The room keeps the old deli feel, but the corned beef is housemade and thick-cut, and the mint shows up by the fistful. Even the bread pudding comes from day-old buns, and a backyard patio handles warm-weather sandwiching. Order at the counter, bring napkins, expect no ceremony.

Meskerem is a cozy, casual Ethiopian spot on South Grand, with walls covered in old Visit Ethiopia travel ads that make a strong case for a vacation you can't take tonight. Dinner arrives on one enormous round of tangy injera, which you tear and use as both fork and spoon. The combo platters bring a pile of vegetarian and meat dishes for around $18, so bring friends and sample most of the menu.

A Greek restaurant in the Gaslamp that mostly skips the blue-and-white postcard act in favor of California-leaning Mediterranean plates and portions sized for a table that's still arguing about who's driving. Someone usually flambés shrimp in ouzo beside your chair, which counts as dinner and a show. There's a patio for watching Gaslamp foot traffic and a happy hour that runs Sunday through Friday afternoons.

Mi Luna is a Spanish tapas restaurant with Moorish touches, tucked into the Montrose Collective. It spent two decades in Rice Village, vanished for a while, then reappeared in a shinier address, which is the Houston way. The menu leans on shared plates, a paella built from seafood, meat, and chicken, and a sweet-and-savory Moroccan chicken pie. Come hungry and with friends, because ordering for one defeats the point.

Mian is a casual Sichuan noodle shop on Bellaire Boulevard, a California transplant in a stretch of Chinatown that has no shortage of Sichuan. You order everything from your phone at the table, which keeps service quick and conversation with the staff to a minimum. The beef noodle soup and the red oil dumplings are the comfort-food move, a steaming bowl that listens to your problems and never offers advice. Expect a tingle, not a fight.

MingHin is a big, banquet-style dim sum hall in the Loop, with white tablecloths that promise formality and a room full of families that never got the memo. The menu runs long, and the sesame buns tend to start a small stampede toward the middle of the table. It makes a sensible pit stop once the boat tour, the Sears Tower, and the Bean have all been checked off for your out-of-town guests.

Mink is an oyster and tinned seafood bar in Corktown where the shuckers are the floor show, so grab a seat at the counter and watch them work. It's small and low-key, the sort of place a first date can pretend was casual all along. You can graze on oysters from around the country, or book the monthly five-course tasting menu, which reads like a church potluck that went to culinary school.

Mirisata is a counter-service Sri Lankan spot on Belmont, and it's fully vegan, worker-owned, and tip-free, which covers three Portland personality types in one stop. The daily rice and curry arrives on a banana leaf, with four rotating dishes at different heat levels. The roti and pastries are worth a second order if you're bringing company. Eat inside or at the patio picnic tables, and it's listed among Eater's 38 Best Restaurants and Food Carts in Portland.

Mistral has been a French institution on Ventura Boulevard for what feels like forever, and a new team has stepped in after the founding owner retired, refreshing the room and the menu without abandoning the bistro bones. French onion soup arrives crowned with a Comté grilled cheese, and four versions of steak frites suggests a kitchen that takes the assignment seriously. A sommelier handles the wine list, and a full cocktail menu is there if you need it.

Modu is a Highland Park bakery that started as a pandemic baking hobby and now has a bright, spare room that looks like Copenhagen was asked to keep it down. The Korean-leaning pastries sit in a glass case like museum pieces, which makes ordering feel faintly like an acquisition. Bring a few people and split several, since a cinnamon roll, a mochi bar, and a tart each look too good to commit to alone.

A build-your-own instant ramen bar does a lot of the talking at this Korean cafe and market tucked behind a Highland Park pocha. The team behind Be Bright Coffee runs the drinks side, with the 2024 U.S. Barista Champion pulling banana matcha lattes alongside grab-and-go banchan, Spam musubi, and a braised oxtail hand pie. It's the kind of neighborhood spot that makes a convincing case for ramen at any hour.

Momento Cantina is a sprawling, pink-lit Mexican restaurant with self-serve tequila machines and a soundtrack better suited to a Cancun pool deck than a Monroe Street block. It's the kind of place you'd expect in the West Loop, yet here it sits, a short walk from the symphony. The freshly made corn tortillas carry the menu, showing up under birria, tuna tostadas, and a whole fish in zarandeado sauce.

Mona Lisa is an old-school Italian deli and red-sauce restaurant on India Street, run by the family's third generation and still stocked like somebody's nonna is checking the shelves. The market side carries packaged goods and wine, and the counter builds the kind of sub that needs two hands and a napkin strategy. Next door, lasagna and pasta come in half portions, which feels like the restaurant admitting you also have a day to finish.

Dominique Crenn, the three-Michelin-starred force behind Atelier Crenn, set up her Los Angeles return on the top floor of the Dior flagship on Rodeo Drive, which tells you almost everything about the vibe before you sit down. It's an all-day restaurant with a full tasting menu, à la carte options, lounge bar plates, and an afternoon tea complete with the requisite tower of sandwiches and sweets, all served somewhere between a couture house and a dining room.