The Best Places in the United States

A whole snapper, deep-fried twice for a crunch audible from across the room, arriving upright as if still swimming, tells you everything about what kind of soul food restaurant this is. Six tables on Staten Island, pitchers of rum punch and sangria on nearly all of them, and a dining room that always feels like a party that forgot to wait for a reason. The New York Times named it one of New York's best new restaurants in 2024.

Portland's original farm-to-table restaurant has been around forever, and after a near-death experience a couple of years ago, a social media S.O.S. brought the regulars flooding back. The dining room is a proper sit-down affair, seasonal and ingredient-driven, with a rustic bistro in back that runs a serious burger and one of the better beer lists downtown. A block from the Arlene Schnitzer, it's the obvious pre-concert answer.

Sweedeedee is a small all-day café in North Portland where the mugs are pottery, the shelves are hand-tagged, and a turntable plays records the house sometimes trades food to the neighbors at Mississippi Records for. Breakfast runs on griddled corn cakes, a thick Spanish tortilla, and a pastry case that changes daily. It is so thoroughly Portland that you may feel the urge to apologize for your phone.

A spare, unassuming Korean storefront where the chef's résumé includes Saison and Jungsik, and the menu makes no effort to hide it. This is contemporary Korean dining where a broth-poached yellowtail rosette sits a few items from fried rice threaded with squid ink and kimchi. The New York Times put it on their Restaurant List, and the room fills with people happy to order widely and share, which is exactly how you should go.

A historic sea captain's house anchors this boutique hotel on the edge of Kennebunkport's compact town center, with eleven modern cabin suites spread across the surrounding grounds. The design, by Elder & Ash, lands somewhere between old Maine and contemporary coastal, which is a trickier balance than it sounds in a town better known for Bush family compounds and old-money shingle cottages. A Michelin Key holder.

Screened porches overlooking the marsh, gabled roofs, and 2,000 acres of Lowcountry terrain set the tone at this Auberge resort on the Kiawah River. The 72 rooms and suites, plus 19 villas, lean into classic Sea Island design without overcooking it. Days run at the river's pace: oyster-laced shorelines, the occasional dolphin, slow hikes through the wetlands. Charleston is forty minutes away, which turns out to be the right distance. The Michelin Guide awarded it one Key.

The baked Alaska arrives tableside with the kind of theater that makes you glad you dressed up. Mister Charles is an Italian-influenced French restaurant in Dallas where the room is sweeping and the menu runs from fusilli with caviar to wagyu beef Wellington, with canapes and showy presentations filling the space between. The wine list is substantial, the cocktails are deft, and nobody here is pretending this is a casual Tuesday.

The photo wall by the door, stacked with chefs, actors, and politicians, tells you everything about how long Park's has been the go-to Korean BBQ spot in LA. Servers manage the tabletop grills for you, slicing and flipping prime cuts from bulgogi to galbi, with American Wagyu for the committed. The kimchi pancakes arrive on cast-iron skillets, hot and crisp, and the cold noodles cut through all that smoke.

Dollar oysters at happy hour put Jacqueline on the map, but this Pacific Northwestern seafood restaurant on Southeast Clinton has a lot more going on. Hamachi crudo gets grilled pickled pineapple and fermented fish funk; smashed cucumbers come with Oregon dulse and whipped tofu. The room moved to a bigger space recently, which the neighborhood took as good news.

The whiteboard of daily specials is where regulars look first at this old-school Japanese restaurant and bar in the International District, an institution that has been around forever and shows no interest in pretending otherwise. No-nonsense aunties keep things in order, traditional cooks keep the kitchen honest, and the wait for a table is more or less constant. Come hungry and unhurried.

The house big band at this Bishop Arts bar and music venue plays with enough brass to rattle your drink on the table. Revelers Hall leans hard into 1920s New Orleans, where the mood runs festive and the dancing starts before you've finished your flatbread or charcuterie. It's not a quiet-beer kind of place, and it doesn't pretend to be. D Magazine named it Dallas's top jazz bar in 2024, which tracks.

Pendant lights salvaged from a European monastery hang over the bar, which tells you everything about how seriously this place takes atmosphere. An old-school beer bar and pub on Henderson Avenue, The Old Monk pours drafts from around the world alongside a rotating cast of locals, with fish and chips that regulars treat as a birthright. Weekday happy hour runs until seven and has a reputation for extending the evening considerably past anyone's original plan.

Chef Morihiro Onodera mills his own rice and throws his own ceramics, which tells you most of what you need to know about how this omakase operates. It follows a cha-kaiseki structure, composed dishes first, then nigiri, with seafood flown in from Japan. The handmade bowls and plates are his, which gives the counter a quietly personal feeling that most sushi rooms charge twice as much to approximate. A Michelin star.

Lava fields meet the ocean on the Kohala Coast, and Mauna Lani, part of the Auberge Collection, sits right at that edge. It's a full-scale luxury resort, so expect multiple pools, a spa, and the kind of cultural programming that makes you feel slightly less like a tourist. The Big Island's comparative quiet is its own amenity, and the redesigned rooms lean into traditional Hawaiian elements without veering into tiki-bar territory.

A wood-burning oven does the heavy lifting at this intimate Italian steakhouse tucked into Nancy Silverton's Melrose compound. The kitchen leans hard into live fire and big cuts, with cooking that's boldly seasoned and more seasonal than you'd expect from a place where meat is basically the religion. The wine list runs deep into Italy. Booking is tight, and the room fills fast with people who clearly did not come to order a salad.

A set meal here arrives as a Korean feast built around barley rice, with banchan multiplying across the table until there's nowhere left to put your elbows. Fried kelp, acorn jelly, mung bean pancakes, and snails in vinegar are just the opening act before the soups arrive. Seasoning runs gentle, so the gochujang and sesame oil on the table are less condiment, more instruction. The New York Times put it on their Los Angeles shortlist.

Gritz Café is a small Southern breakfast spot a short drive off the Strip, where the portions are built for people who plan to nap afterward. The chicken and waffles lead the menu, but the cheesy jalapeño grits and hotlink omelets have their defenders. The dining room is tiny, so a wait is normal, though the servers move fast. The sweet potato pie travels well enough to survive airport security.

Kassi Beach House is a coastal Italian restaurant dressed up as an upscale beach shack, complete with a DJ spinning pop remixes at brunch and a steady supply of people photographing their eggs. The soft scrambled eggs with salsa verde are the quiet standout, and there's pasta for anyone who wants lunch to commit. Bottomless rosé on a poolside daybed is the move if you're prepared to treat Saturday as a project.

Tucked into an airport business park (yes, really), this contemporary restaurant from a chef who grew up in Côte d'Ivoire brings West African-inflected cooking to a town that usually runs on truffle butter and expense accounts. Wildflower vases, bare tables, and a breezy terrace set an unfussy tone. The food follows: bold spicing, real technique, prices that don't assume you're on a ski-week budget. The chef was a James Beard semifinalist in 2022.

A small banchan shop with a courtyard that turns a quick lunch into something you'll spend the afternoon on. The menu changes with whatever caught the chef's eye at the farmers' market, so the marinated okra or rolled omelet you're hoping to find may or may not show up. Korean fermentation and California produce, in a conversation neither had planned. A James Beard semifinalist for Best Chef: California.

Bottarga grated over fresh spaghetti is as close to a signature as this intimate Noe Valley Sardinian restaurant gets, though dried tuna heart shaved over fusilli gives it a run. The menu is concise, written partly in Sard, and offers a cash discount at the bottom. A neighborhood regular bought the place specifically to keep it exactly as it was, which is either very reassuring or a little telling about how attached people get.

A vintage toy car holds down the check at this casual Italian restaurant in a former auto shop on Mount Pleasant Street. The menu shifts constantly, but lamb skewers with chili oil and bubble-crusted pizzas stay put, and the gelato arrives piled improbably high. The kitchen's commitment to good ingredients is quiet but obvious. Bon Appétit named it one of America's Best New Restaurants in 2024.

Suma katsuo, a buttery fish rarely seen outside Japan, gets cold-smoked over cherry wood and finished with onion sauce, sesame, and nori at this intimate omakase counter on Prince Street. The New York Times named that sashimi course one of the top dishes of 2024. Chef Ben Chen's approach is precise without being fussy, and the room rewards the kind of guest who came to pay attention rather than to be seen.

The roadhouse on the St. Helena highway that turned a working kitchen garden into a wine country institution. Cindy Pawlcyn's casual American grill runs from grilled fish and steaks to a smoked pork sandwich, all pulled through a seasonal, garden-driven lens. The lemon-lime tart, described on the menu itself as "ridiculously tall," delivers on the promise. There's usually a wait at lunch, which says everything about the regulars who keep coming back.

Communal tables and mismatched plates set the tone at this noodle bar on Middle Street, where the menu wanders confidently through Asia with a New England detour. Lobster wontons land in seafood curry; smoked lamb khao soi shows up alongside whatever happens to be coming off the wok that day. The room is tight, which concentrates the energy nicely. A James Beard semifinalist for Best Chef: Northeast in 2024.

Thirty minutes inland from San Diego, this casino resort sits above a 1,600-acre reservation belonging to the Viejas Band of the Kumeyaay Indians, with rolling hills on all sides and fire pits and waterfalls worked into the design as more than decoration. The rooms are contemporary and the staff runs warm. Beyond the gaming floor, there's a pool, a range of restaurants, and live entertainment most nights for anyone who needs a reason to stay put.

The bread at this Fruitvale bánh mì shop is the whole argument: crackly crust, pillowy interior, just enough chew. Two dozen sandwiches fill the menu at prices that haven't moved in years, a minor miracle in the Bay Area. The pork meatball and egg is the one regulars point to, peppery and rich. Lines stretch out the door most days, but the staff moves them fast enough that you'll barely notice.

The spaghetti pomodoro at this Mission trattoria has its own cult following, which tells you something about how long Delfina has been doing this right. All pasta is made in-house, the wine list leans Italian with a few California strays, and a post-pandemic remodel left behind a handsome wood bar and gold accents. Casual enough for a Tuesday, but the room has enough polish that you won't feel underdressed for a date either.

A former diner in Candler Park, now very small and very Italian in the red-sauce-and-checkered-cloth spirit, though the kitchen wanders freely from that premise. Housemade pasta shares the menu with duck off a yakitori grill and fish roe deployed with unexpected confidence. The amaro list is taken seriously, and the tiramisù arrives in tidy little blocks. The New York Times put it on their Atlanta list, as did Esquire.

Itria takes its name from an ancient Syrian word for pasta, which tells you something about how seriously the kitchen takes the subject. This modern Italian fine dining spot on 24th Street runs a tight menu built around crudo and house-made pasta, where a light, unfussy hand does most of the convincing. Bar seating lines the center corridor, and a communal wood table anchors the back, giving the room an easy, convivial feel.

Bottiglia is a Tuscan enoteca out in Henderson whose weekend brunch doubles as a dress-code experiment, with a sunny dining room full of groups in their flashiest outfits working through bottomless mimosas and Aperol spritzes. A shellfish tower shares the table with avocado toast, and dessert is a chocolate stiletto made of ladyfingers and mascarpone, which is a sentence you only get to say at brunch.

This is the Strip outpost of a Mexico City seafood institution, a sit-down dinner place where the pescado a la talla arrives butterflied and painted half green, half red, which tends to start a debate at the table. Since this is Vegas, the menu adds red meat, so wagyu tenderloin tacos and a beef aguachile share space with the tuna tostadas. Dress like you're impressing someone, because the whole fish encourages it.

Gramps Getaway is a waterfront cocktail bar under the big palapa that used to house Whiskey Joe's, with creaky floorboards that still hold decades of beach sand. Seventies rock plays, the frozen drinks are stronger than they let on, and the Brickell skyline sits across the water. The menu runs from wings to a fried chicken sandwich, and prices stay modest. Eater lists it among Miami's essential cocktail bars.

Candlelit stone tables and cushioned banquettes set the mood at this modern California-Mediterranean restaurant inside Palm Springs' Living Out community. Sue Feniger and Mary Sue Milliken run the kitchen, turning out wood-roasted seafood and hand-rolled pastas with the kind of ease that makes it look unfair. The Michelin Guide has it selected, and the Los Angeles Times put it on their 101 best in California list for 2025.

This Pearl District coffee shop roasts its own beans and takes cues from Korean cafe culture, which means the seasonal menu might involve shiso, gochujang, or a toasted rice latte with housemade syrup. The pour-overs are precise and the space is all polished concrete and floor-to-ceiling windows, so the laptop crowd settles in while neighbors dart through for matcha, as if the place were a pit stop.

A quiet neighborhood coffee shop on its namesake avenue that, for regulars who know Portland's coffee history, carries some serious backstory: this was where much of the third-wave scene got sorted out. These days it's a warm, unhurried spot to order a Coava latte and take a picnic table outside. The ambition is still in the cup; the scene has mellowed considerably.

Aroom is a Vietnamese coffee shop on Stone Way where the drink is brewed through a small metal phin that drips slowly into condensed milk, so patience comes standard. The menu then gets creative, with an egg coffee that drinks like custard, a sesame latte with tahini cream, and a salty coffee for people who think sweetness needs a rebuttal. A second branch on the Waterfront draws a steady line.

Backbar is a cocktail bar tucked down a concrete hallway behind a steel door in Union Square, which is how you know the drinks are serious. Weekends bring a line of people waiting to find out what the menu is themed around this month, sometimes an animation studio, with drinks named for scenes. Tell the bartender your mood and let them handle the translation, because the ingredient lists read like a botany final.

Pepperoni butter served by the pint is a solid thesis statement for any restaurant. Banshee is a creative New American spot in East Atlanta where wood floors and whitewashed brick keep things grounded while the kitchen goes in unexpected directions, small plates and pasta sharing the menu with seasonal vegetables that actually pull their weight. The New York Times put it on their Atlanta list, and the crowd that fills it most nights seems to know something you might not yet.

Low-lit and unhurried on Magazine Street at the edge of the Lower Garden District, Barrel Proof is a neighborhood whiskey and cocktail bar that lets its bottles do the talking. The bourbon list runs deep, the cocktail menu stays short and confident, and food comes from rotating pop-ups rather than a kitchen. A James Beard semifinalist for Outstanding Restaurateur, which is an unusual nod for a place this deliberately unshowy.

Barrel Proof is a small Germantown bar where the name tells you what's on the shelf and the wall of brown liquor does the rest. Seasonal cocktails and a covered patio make it easy to lose an afternoon, and the crowd runs from post-workout regulars to birthday tables to tourists trying to figure out bourbon. The kimchi-loaded fries with sambal mayo are the move, especially at happy hour.

The Shakarato, espresso shaken with agave, orange, and bitters, is a good reason to wander into this craft coffee shop on 19th Street. Small-batch beans get roasted and brewed with the kind of attention that makes ordering drip feel like a decision. Avocado toast and seasonal veggie tacos cover the hunger angle, and the pastries are the sort you eat standing at the counter before you've found a seat.

Little Five Points' go-to soccer bar, Brewhouse draws Atlanta United faithful and international match crowds to a room that takes cricket and rugby as seriously as the Premier League. The beer list runs deep across local, domestic, and imported options, and the Painkiller cocktail comes in three levels of commitment. Wings, nachos, and fish and chips keep things grounded. Wear whatever you'd wear to the match.

A bread house and wine bar born from an actual marriage, which is either romantic or the most efficient way to divide labor ever conceived. The dishes read simple but arrive with quiet technique underneath, and a dedicated section of chilled reds by the glass gives the wine list a personality of its own. The room is casual without being careless, and the New York Times put it on their Nashville list.

A Caffe Vita coffee shop attached to the KEXP radio station, so you can watch DJs work the booth while you wait on a latte, with the Space Needle hovering nearby in case you forgot what city you're in. It's the sort of place where you could wander in for a cortado and leave with a strong opinion about a B-side. Couches and tables are usually available, and there's a cheap-drip morning deal for early weekday risers.

Cardoon is a tiny coffee shop on the ground floor of an apartment building on Market Street, easy to walk past if you're looking for something louder. The menu splits between German and Chinese cooking, so the streuselkuchen comes with white miso on top. The Seaweed Latte contains no seaweed, just soy sauce caramel. It also pours beer and wine, which makes it a coffee shop that can handle an evening.

A converted gas station in the Melrose District that starts pulling shots at six in the morning, Copper Star is a coffee shop where the bagels are made in-house and take the menu seriously. Jalapeño cheddar, sun-dried tomato, blueberry, all built into breakfast sandwiches that come out hot. Drive-thru, shaded patio, eclectic interior, the whole spectrum of Phoenix mornings covered.

Dino's is an East Nashville dive that has been feeding the after-hours crowd since the 1970s, mostly with gooey cheeseburgers meant to talk a hangover out of existing. You can sit at a diner table in the dim main room or out on the covered patio, and the punk rock restroom is considered part of the visit. The bar pours Coors, Shiner Bock, and mezcal, Campari, even Malort, and the line peaks right after the bars close.

Handmade corn tortillas arrive warm at every table, which tells you most of what you need to know about this homestyle Mexico City restaurant on the outer edge of the Mission. The chef, a La Cocina alum, built the menu around guisados, the slow-braised stews that define home cooking in the capital. It's the kind of place where the salsas are made in-house and the chocoflan is non-negotiable.

Exquisite Creatures is a plant-based coffee shop in the Central Eastside where the seasonal drink menu reads like a dare, and the orange Tootsie Pop latte is the one people mention first. It all runs on house-roasted espresso, which keeps the strawberry-jalapeño matcha from collapsing into a bit. There are pastries and sandwiches, plenty of foliage, and an unhurried pace for a coffee order that costs a few dollars.

Fifth Vessel is a small, bright coffee shop near the bayou, furnished with midcentury classroom desks and tropical flowers, so you'll feel like a very caffeinated student on a field trip. The rotating specials have names like the Duvet, a clove and cinnamon flat white, and there's a long matcha list. Outlets are scarce and the laptop crowd knows it, so arrive early if you plan to work.

The sunken firepit shoots flames over a pool of sky-blue water, which tells you most of what you need to know about the Fireside Lounge. It's a lounge bar at the Peppermill, frozen in an era of plastic plants, purple mood lighting, and couch fabric that looks like stone. Tiki drinks arrive in 64-ounce fishbowls. Bon Jovi videos play overhead. The crowd is hard-drinking and completely unbothered, which is the only correct response.

Hand-carved wooden statues, glowing pufferfish lamps, and tree-trunk chairs that take two people to lift set the tone at this classic tiki bar off Charleston. The drinks are ranked by booziness on a five-skull scale, which is the kind of menu design that tells you everything you need to know. Most people clutching souvenir mugs near the back came here on purpose, on something of a pilgrimage, and they planned the whole trip around it.

Futura is a Montavilla coffee shop done up in ivory and beige, with enough tables that you can spread a laptop, a notebook, and a minor existential crisis without bumping anyone. The menu leans on phrases like "regenerative agriculture," which you can nod along to while ordering a latte with hibiscus-rose syrup. The choripán breakfast sandwich, all garlic aioli and chimichurri, handles lunch before noon. There's a second branch in Arbor Lodge.

Ghost Note is a Capitol Hill coffee shop where the espresso drinks come with a plot twist, like a cold one built on almond milk and orange blossom honey that finishes with grapefruit aromatics. Nothing here is a plain latte wearing a sweater. It's the kind of menu where you read the board twice, and the drinks are photogenic enough that half the room has already taken a picture before the first sip.

This is a narrow natural-wine bar near Downtown Crossing, the sort of place that introduced a lot of Boston to tinned fish and has been quietly smug about it since. The list is long and a little nerdy, but the bartenders will talk you through it without making you feel graded. Half bottles of nearly everything let you change your mind twice. It was a James Beard semifinalist for its wine program, and on Wednesdays there are fancy hot dogs.

A side-street specialist selling exactly one thing: warm pasteis de nata, four to a box. The shells shatter like good pastry should, and the custard filling runs thick enough that the Chronicle grouped it with the best bakeries in the Bay Area. Plain or dusted with cinnamon are the standing options, with a Nutella variation showing up on Thursdays for anyone who needs a reason to plan their week around a bakery.

Kalesa Coffee is a tiny Filipino coffee shop on the ground floor of a brick office building in Eliot, and finding it means spotting a horse sign and walking through a gate that is, reassuringly, unlocked. The drinks lean on Filipino flavors, like cold brew crowned with violet ube cream and an espresso tonic sharpened with calamansi. The guava empanadas in the pastry case tend to vanish, so arrive early or make peace with it.

The chef behind this 16-seat omakase counter built his D.C. following at a food hall, which is a slightly unglamorous origin story for something this polished. Kiyomi is a proper sushi counter now, with a weekday lunch omakase that remains the kind of deal that makes regulars feel like insiders, and a Friday dinner omakase for anyone who wants the full, unhurried version.

A Honda van parked at the Highland Collective, serving drinks with names like Cause of Death alongside miso piloncillo lattes and umami mochas. Kyoko Coffee is a Japanese-inspired coffee van that runs on the premise that your cup should be at least a little surprising. The standard cortados and cappuccinos are there if you want them, but the ube milk and the oddball flavor combinations are clearly why the regulars come back.

Le Loup is a cocktail bar perched above The Optimist, decked out like a submarine, so you can drink a martini and feel mildly nautical about it. The menu devotes a whole section to martinis, and there are towering barstools, cozy booths, shrimp cocktail, and fries that Nashville has opinions about. Bananas foster gets flambéed tableside, which is a nice way to remind everyone the sea is flammable. After 10pm the snacks give way to sandwiches.