The Best Places in the United States

The bacon flight, five strips in rotating flavors, is reason enough to brave the wait at this daytime-only brunch spot in Palm Springs. Text-ahead seating lands you on a covered patio full of sunglasses and no particular hurry. The weekly-changing menu leans on local produce and runs from breakfast quesadillas to proper coffee cake, with housemade pastries at the counter for anyone too impatient to sit down.

A grilled baguette with a jar of chicken liver mousse, aspic gleaming on top, sets the tone at this French bistro in Five Points South. The menu runs exactly as far as steak frites and trout amandine, and not one step further, which is entirely the point. Frank Stitt's room draws a polished Birmingham crowd that dresses for dinner and means it, and the kitchen meets them with the kind of seriousness that makes classic French food feel like a commitment.

Vintage film posters and antique tools cover the walls, and the wood-fired pizzas at this Geyserville pizzeria fill the room within minutes of the doors opening. The house-cured meats and the blistered Neapolitan pies built around the team's own smoked salumi are the draw, though the back patio, a glass-roofed greenhouse reached through an alley that looks borrowed from an Italian hill town, is reason enough to linger.

On weekends, an announcer calls reservation numbers over a booming speaker like high-stakes bingo, and the crowd outside barely fits through the door. Inside, this cavernous Brooklyn dim sum palace runs on steaming carts and trays shuttled through a gold-accented dining room. Eyes do most of the ordering. Weekdays are considerably calmer, which some people quietly prefer.

Sinatra murmurs overhead, leather banquettes fill the room, and the bread basket arrives before you've even settled in. Elina's is a neighborhood Italian-American restaurant done with real affection for the canon: clams casino, rigatoni alla vodka, chicken parm under a blanket of marinara and mozz. The kitchen doesn't reinvent anything, which is rather the point. Cozy, intimate, and thoroughly absorbed in its own nostalgia.

The name honors Scott Nishiyama's mother and grandmother, which tells you something about the register of the place before you've even sat down. This Palo Alto shared-plate restaurant lands somewhere between rustic and polished, with a short California-driven menu that moves from fried swordfish to hojicha tapioca pudding without breaking a sweat. The kind of room where the cooking is clearly serious but nobody's performing seriousness at you.

An 11-course Thai tasting menu inside the Kimpton Hotel Enso, where sweet and savory blur together so deliberately that a coconut pancake arrives with caviar and cheesecake comes topped with crispy fried onions. The chef draws on regional Thai flavors without treating them as a museum exhibit, building a miniature banquet that moves faster than the price tag might suggest. Selected by the Michelin Guide.

A chalkboard lists the day's fish at this tiny omakase counter, which keeps seats scarce and reservations non-negotiable. The 90-minute sushi experience moves through nigiri sourced from San Diego waters, Peruvian fishing boats, and Japanese suppliers, with a handroll menu waiting for anyone not quite ready to leave. The Michelin Guide has taken notice of this Convoy Street spot, which feels like an inside track even when the room is full.

Eight seats at a hinoki counter is the whole point at this discreet La Jolla sushiya, so a reservation is non-negotiable. The omakase format is the move, though à la carte runs from sashimi to maki with rice that regulars mention unprompted. The chefs talk through their fish and technique like they enjoy it, which they appear to, and the room, all greenery and natural wood, makes the whole thing feel quieter than the address deserves.

The green-and-white checked tablecloths have been here so long they're practically load-bearing. JG Melon is an old-school Upper East Side burger joint where the dark wood bar stays busy, the staff is genuinely cheerful, and the cheeseburger is the reason The Infatuation named it one of New York's defining dishes. Come early or expect a wait, which at this point is just part of the ritual.

The smell of saffron hits you before you reach the door, which is a reasonable promise to make. La Marcha is a Spanish tapas and paella restaurant on San Pablo where the jamón legs hanging in the back corner set the decorative tone. Paellas come in enough variations to anchor a group, and the happy hour draws solo diners to the L-shaped bar for wine and free bites. Rustic, lively, and never quiet.

Sourdough pies out of a wood-fired oven anchor the menu at this laid-back neighborhood pizza spot, where tall ceilings and a light wood and green palette make it feel like someone actually thought about the room. Park City locals fill it nightly, and the open kitchen is worth watching. Sticky date pudding with salted caramel closes things out on a note that has nothing to do with pizza and no one seems to mind.

Light wood floors, white walls, and the sort of spare aesthetic that lets the food do the talking set the mood at this downtown Boulder restaurant. The menu leans toward meat but treats vegetables with genuine seriousness, and the kitchen has a wry streak: the peanut butter tart arrives as a grown-up riff on ants on a log, which is either charming or unsettling depending on your childhood. A Michelin Selected pick.

Oru is a sleek little sushi counter in the Heights from the Kira team, and the pitch is that nobody makes you sign up for a full omakase. You order a la carte, mixing nigiri, crudos, and a few composed plates as the mood strikes. The rice is served warm and deliberately textured, and dessert is banana ice cream topped with caviar, which is either a joke or a flex. Dress nicely, bring an appetite, and plan on more nigiri than you first think.

A whiteboard lists the day's fish, and the counter fits a handful of people who know to leave the sauces out of it. This tiny sushi shop inside Vail Village runs a purist's game, nigiri and sashimi cut clean, with cuts like hagatsuo that rarely travel far outside Japan. The Michelin Guide has noted it, which in a ski town full of après-ski excess says something about where the serious eating is happening.

The cash-only policy has turned away more than a few first-timers who showed up unprepared, which is arguably part of the point. This old-school Brooklyn steakhouse runs on dry-aged Porterhouse, no-nonsense servers, and wood-paneled rooms full of people who've been coming for decades. The sides are simple, the schlag is non-negotiable, and the whole operation moves with the cheerful brusqueness of a place that has never once considered changing anything.

Dim sum carts still roll through this cavernous Cantonese dining room inside the Gold Coast casino, just off the Strip, which is its own kind of statement. The open kitchen turns out roast duck and walnut prawns alongside the steamed, baked, and fried parade from the trolleys. The lotus-wrapped sticky rice bundles and XO fried rice rolls are the ones to flag down. A full Cantonese menu runs all day for anyone who wants something more substantial.

Radicato is an upstairs Italian restaurant just off Main Street, calling its cooking "mountain Italian," which in Breckenridge seems less a style than a survival strategy. The dining room is a bustling, handsome alcove, and the pasta is made by hand and leans hearty. The focaccia comes from a bakery a few doors down, so the bread traveled about as far as you did to get upstairs. Michelin lists it as a Selected Restaurant.

A wraparound marble bar anchors the two-level room at this polished River North steakhouse, where the décor runs black, white, and wood in a way that says "expense account" without quite shouting it. The menu rotates through Japanese and American cuts alongside shellfish and sides, and the wine list covers Napa to Burgundy with room to roam. The semicircular booths fill with people who dressed for it.

Pimiento fondue over fried green tomatoes is the kind of dish that makes you wonder why the rest of the country isn't doing this. Soby's is a downtown Greenville institution, a full-service Southern restaurant where the dining room buzzes on a Tuesday and the bar fills up fast enough that a reservation is a good idea. The wine list runs deeper than the room suggests, and the kitchen keeps its Southern cooking earnest and unfussy.

An old-school Vail institution on Gore Creek, Sweet Basil has been feeding skiers and locals through lunch, après drinks, and dinner for longer than most of its regulars have been skiing. The menu roams freely, pulling from wherever it likes, miso black garlic halibut one minute, bone marrow pho the next. Desserts have names that dare you to order them. The cocktails are carefully made, and the room stays lively without trying too hard.

The chicharron, crispy pork belly in garlic mojo, is the dish that people apparently plan their week around. This is a Mexican restaurant from chef Ray Garcia, running a compact menu of bold, nostalgic cooking that skews contemporary without making a show of it. The room fills fast, so reservations are not optional. Start with the aguachile negro and work your way forward; skipping anything tends to feel like a mistake in hindsight.

Brunch at this cozy Greenpoint restaurant draws a line of famished locals most weekends, and the pancakes have their own small mythology in the neighborhood. Inside, it's a French-Canadian operation with a clear affection for pork: pâtés, terrines, and charcuterie-forward plates dominate a menu that stays rich and unapologetic. Dinner is quieter and just as good. A Michelin Selected Restaurant.

The open oven anchors the room on Española Way, and the dough has been cold-fermenting long enough that the crust comes out airy and a little charred at the edges, the way Naples intended. This Neapolitan pizzeria keeps buffalo mozzarella and San Marzano tomatoes on the non-negotiable list, and the Italian wine list is short enough to actually read. It ranks eleventh on 50 Top Pizza USA, so the tourists and the locals both know to show up early.

Every room faces the ocean at this slim, swanky boutique hotel wedged between the Pacific Coast Highway and what the locals call Billionaire's Beach. Pale wood paneling, slate-bordered fireplaces, and custom white oak furniture keep things quietly serious, while the bathrooms go full futuristic with remote-controlled Toto toilets. Staff attend the beach chaises, and the waterfront terrace runs from morning avocado toast to late-night espresso martinis without ever dropping the mood.

A pasta production table sits at the center of the kitchen, visible from the dining room, which tells you everything about priorities here. Dio Mio is a fast-casual Italian spot where two chefs with fine-dining backgrounds chose to make fresh pasta the whole point instead. The menu is short and seasonal, the room is relaxed, and the combinations run from cacio e pepe to shrimp with dill, which is either alarming or intriguing depending on your mood.

The slow-roasted suckling pig leg that anchors the menu tells you this isn't your standard tapas crawl. La Vara is a cozy Spanish restaurant in Cobble Hill where the kitchen takes cocina casera, home cooking, as both its premise and its ambition. Alex Raij's food has a playful, quietly inventive quality; the room draws the kind of neighborhood regulars who eventually stop looking at the menu and just tell the server to do whatever.

Pasta anchors the menu at this Southern European restaurant on Peachtree, where the kitchen leans moody in both decor and ambition. The room has that dark, close-quarters energy that makes a long dinner feel intentional, and the cooking moves from duck lasagna with cocoa béchamel through veal Milanese without losing the thread. A Michelin Selected pick that landed on the New York Times restaurant list.

Stainless steel baskets lined with egg everything and pumpernickel everything tell you all you need to know before you've even ordered. This Crown Heights bagel shop turns out chewy, substantial rounds that hold up to the ambitious sandwich menu, where chipotle-bacon cream cheese and asparagus on a breakfast sandwich feel less weird than they should. The weekend line goes out the door, which at a bagel shop is either a warning or a recommendation, depending on how much you've had to eat.

Brezza is a Tuscan Italian restaurant at Resorts World where the steaks hang around in dry-aging for at least 100 days, long enough to pick up a funk that tastes a little like gorgonzola. The 16-ounce strip is the move, and the pappardelle with lamb ragu is easy to split. The dining room handles a business lunch fine, and the patio looks out at the Strip, which is a lot of neon to see over a plate of pasta.

The handkerchief pasta, mandilli di seta, arrives dressed in Ligurian almond basil pesto and tends to settle the question of what to order. This modern Italian restaurant inside the Venetian seats over 150 across a room of forest green, reclaimed wood, and Art Deco light fixtures, which sounds like a lot but reads warmer than it has any right to. The menu runs from focaccina to porchetta, with fresh pasta doing most of the heavy lifting.

Red Dwarf is a dive bar in a tiny strip mall that moonlights as a tiki lounge, which explains the glowing glass orbs and pufferfish lamps. Locals pack the zig-zagging, Tetris-shaped room for $4 pints of a local lager and thick, rectangular Detroit-style pizza. Tight quarters mean you'll be debating the pineapple-and-jalapeño pie with strangers by the second round.

The mission here is explicit: no rainbow bagels, no blueberry bagels, no what Peter Shelsky calls the "shiksa bagel." This Park Slope bagel shop makes small, crust-forward rounds in the New York tradition, though the Sichuan peppercorn bagel, a nod to the long Jewish-Chinese-food alliance, bends the rules just enough. The New York Times named it among the city's best, which is the only endorsement that really matters in this particular argument.

Tuxedo jackets, Converse sneakers, and a glassed-in meat-cutting room in the back: Born & Raised is an upscale steakhouse dressed in mid-century art deco bones with black-and-white portraits of rap legends lining the walls. Waiters push tableside carts for cocktails and starters, and the open-air rooftop overlooks Little Italy. The steaks are the main event, but the tartare, finished tableside with quail egg and capers, holds its own.

Korean fried chicken shop on a busy Upper West Side corner, narrow and deep with an open kitchen you can watch from pretty much every table. The chicken comes out amber and lacquered in sticky black pepper soy, the kind that makes you rethink every other version you've had. The fried rice, loaded with Chinese sausage, kimchi, and a runny egg on top, is its own argument for staying for seconds.

Taxidermy specimens on loan from the Natural History Museum share wall space with mounted trophies, giving this gastropub the look of a library that got lost on a hunting trip. The Contemporary New American menu leans hearty, with Asian inflections woven through comfort-food staples. The Michelin Guide has noted it, and the crowd skews stylish. Maybe leave your most ethically sensitive friend at the hotel.

A corner restaurant on Broadway where the teal-washed dining room and floor-to-ceiling windows make the whole place feel like an exhale. The long counter fills up with regulars who clearly know their way around a Middle Eastern menu, and the off-center bar is quietly good for eating solo. Fresh-baked breads anchor the meal, and the kitchen's way with date syrup and tahini shows a chef who understands how sweetness and richness need each other.

Wicker fans spin overhead, leather sofas line the walls, and colorful tile covers the floor in what amounts to a fantasy of old Havana in downtown Los Angeles. DAMA is a full-service Latin American restaurant where the tropical cocktails at the central bar are keeping pace with the kitchen, and the front patio is dense with greenery. The menu runs from aguachile to lamb chops to paella meant for sharing.

Strands of tiny silver beads cover the front window, so Daphne's announces itself quietly before you're even through the door. Inside, it's a refined, contemporary Italian-American restaurant in Bed-Stuy with a menu short enough to read twice. House-made pasta, shareable plates, and a grilled pork chop that takes its time all earn a look. The kind of neighborhood spot that makes you wonder why you ever leave Brooklyn.

A 22-seat counter tucked inside Gui Steakhouse, up an elevator and easy to walk past without knowing. Sungchul Shim runs a multicourse tasting menu where Korean flavors meet French technique, and the two Michelin stars suggest the kitchen takes that fusion seriously. Chefs work at the center of the room in full view, which keeps everyone facing the same direction for once. The white soy custard with Osetra caviar has developed a following of its own.

The 16-seat counter in Tribeca runs loud for an omakase room, which is part of the point. The team behind ITO has no patience for hushed reverence: fish flown in from Tokyo and Fukuoka anchors a nigiri progression with deep cuts and assertive saucing, and the appetizers and desserts pull their weight too. Whiskey and sake flow, the room skews young, and everyone booked their next reservation before the first one ended.

José Andrés launched his American empire here, and this Penn Quarter tapas bar has been loud and full of energy ever since. The dining room goes heavy on tile, glass, and art, which sets the mood before the vermouth list even arrives. Sangria and sherry are smart starts, and the bacalao fritters and olive-oil ice cream over grapefruit granita are reasons to stay long past the last small plate.

The omakase counter tucked inside Kanoyama runs on select days only, so planning ahead is part of the deal. It's the serious, pricey sushi experience the East Village rarely advertises: a small counter, a chef calling the shots, and fish flown in with obvious intention. The sake list is deep enough that regulars argue about it, and you're handed an assortment of cups to choose from, which is a nicer problem than most restaurants give you.

The scent of caramelizing meat and lemon hits you at the door, which is a reliable sign of what kind of Greek restaurant this is: wood-grill-and-rotisserie-serious, with open fireplaces and staff who actually seem happy to see you. Kokkari has been a fixture in Jackson Square forever, pulling off the trick of feeling like an old-world taverna while the room fills with people in very expensive casual wear.

The name comes from a Māori word, and the New Zealand Wagyu arrives wood-fired, which tells you something about the seriousness of the sourcing before you even sit down. This is a Beverly Hills steakhouse with exposed brick, brass fixtures, and an open kitchen, but the vibe runs warmer and more romantic than the category usually suggests. Wagyu here lands at prices that don't require a quiet moment with your bank app afterward.

You buy tickets here the way you'd buy them for theater, which is more or less what this is. Merchant Roots is an immersive tasting experience in SoMa where the theme shifts each season and dinner moves through multiple rooms with set design to match. The cooking keeps pace with the spectacle rather than hiding behind it. Bring a sense of humor about the whole premise, and you'll eat well while feeling mildly like you've tumbled down a rabbit hole.

This is the Vegas outpost of the Brooklyn steakhouse that built a reputation on dry-aged porterhouse and a famously brusque dining room. Expect a pricey, old-school meat house with the kind of check that makes the sizzling platter feel like a down payment. Lunch has a quieter trick: a burger served only a few hours, Wednesday through Sunday, made from chuck and scraps of the dry-aged loin, and nearly $30 once fries show up.

A pizza shop inside a Times Square subway station, which sounds like a dare and turns out to be a genuinely good idea. Black-and-white checkered floors and 80s classics on the speakers give it a casual, slightly punk energy, and the thin-crust pies hold their own against the commuter chaos outside. Small plates cycle with the seasons before the pizza arrives. The Michelin Guide has taken note.

A third-floor omakase counter tucked into Weller Court in Little Tokyo, where the sardine roll, wrapped in pickled daikon with ginger and shiso, gives you a sense of how the chef thinks. Two seatings run nightly, one personally helmed by the chef himself. Lunch omakase lands considerably easier on the wallet if dinner feels steep. The Michelin Guide has taken notice, and the regulars already act like they found it first.

The chef makes the ceramic bowls himself, which tells you a lot about the pace of a meal here. This Greenpoint soba shop occupies a warehouse with factory windows and skylights, and the hand-cut buckwheat noodles, served cold or hot with dashi, are the point. Pricing runs steep for a noodle lunch, but the room is genuinely industrial and the gluten-free menu surprisingly complete. Soba-making classes also run here, if you'd like homework.

The smoke hits you before the door does, which is about right for a Southern steakhouse built inside a former church in Plaza Midwood. The wood-fired range dominates the room, and prime meats and fish come off the embers in cuts meant for the table to share. The sides hold their own alongside anything off the fire. A Michelin Selected pick, it also draws a cocktail following serious enough to earn an Esquire nod.

Milk bread arrives before you've even opened the menu, and the same dough closes the meal as bread pudding with cream cheese ice cream. That loop tells you everything about how the kitchen thinks. Kindred is a Southern Italian brasserie in Davidson's small-town Main Street, all marble counters and a light-filled upstairs dining room. The New York Times put it on their restaurant list, and the pasta earns the trip out from Charlotte on its own.

They make the mozzarella in-house, and you can watch them do it from the counter. Little Mama's is a cozy Italian neighborhood restaurant with pasta, pizza, and a brunch that runs on weekends. The setup is booths and counter seats, the vibe is red-sauce Sunday dinner without the obligation to show up. A Michelin Selected spot that earns its following by keeping things simple and doing them with care.

Hamachi crudo with parmesan leche de tigre is the menu's calling card, blending Japanese technique, Italian dairy, and Peruvian acid in one glass. This lively neighborhood restaurant in Elizabeth runs a modern menu that mixes Latin and Italian threads with seasonal North Carolina produce, and the handmade pastas make a strong case for staying longer. Cocktails are quaffable and the wine list is built for food, not for showing off.

Industrial bones meet low lighting at this modern Mexico City-focused restaurant on West Second, where the menu leans into seafood the way Austin leans into tacos. Ceviche, tiradito, and a grilled whole fish that arrives looking like a centerpiece keep things coastal and confident. The churros close things out with cinnamon dust. A Michelin Selected pick and a James Beard semifinalist, it draws a crowd that dressed up just enough to feel like the room.

The light-filled dining room on L Street runs to earth tones and cozy corners, and the crowd skews toward people who have actual things to discuss over dinner. This is an upscale New American restaurant where the chef, a neighborhood fixture, tilts classic dishes just far enough off-axis to keep them interesting. A James Beard semifinalist and listed in the Michelin Guide, it handles a business lunch and a family celebration with equal composure.

Watercolor paintings of the Monterey Bay hang throughout this Victorian-era bed-and-breakfast on Ocean View Boulevard, which makes sense given the view out the window is more or less the same. Green Gables is the flagship of the Four Sisters Inns collection, a cluster of boutique inns up and down California. Rustic wood floors, linen sofas, and earth tones give recently refreshed rooms a cozy, unfussy feel that fits the fog-draped neighborhood perfectly.

A few minutes from Portland in Cape Elizabeth, this coastal resort sits close enough to the water that the sea breeze does real work, even in summer when the air conditioning is technically doing its job. Rooms and suites run to gas fireplaces and heated floors, which sounds like a sales pitch until January arrives. The style is contemporary-classic without the stiffness that phrase usually implies, and the Michelin Guide has it among their selected hotels.

Spanish Revival bones and bay views make this Pacific Grove hotel a more atmospheric base than the usual Monterey-area chain. Ninety-nine rooms and suites, many with balconies, carry the architecture's old California mood without feeling stuck in it. The Caledonian restaurant handles modern American with Californian wines. Pebble Beach, Carmel, and Cannery Row are all just minutes down the road.

Water on three sides puts Tampa Bay practically inside the room at this boutique hotel on Rocky Point. The interiors lean modernist and minimal, which sounds cold until you see how well it plays against the view. There's an outdoor pool, a ninth-floor fitness center, and Rox Rooftop Bar sits higher than anything else in town, if you need a reason to skip the gym.

A luxury hotel in Birmingham, Michigan that feels like it has been around forever, even though it hasn't. The Townsend pulls off a particular trick: the kind of hushed, buttoned-up grandeur that usually takes generations to accumulate. It's the sort of place where the staff remembers your name and the decor has never once considered being trendy. A solid base for exploring Detroit's suburbs without roughing it.

Family recipes are the spine of the menu here, though Chef Max Wittawat dresses them up considerably. Bangkok Supper Club is a chic contemporary Thai restaurant in the West Village where the cocktail program pulls as much attention as the food, and the room has the candles-and-low-lighting energy to match. The Michelin Guide has it selected. Dishes read simple on paper and then arrive full of dramatic contrasts, which is the whole point.

Exposed brick and poured cement set a sleek, airy backdrop for traditional Thai cooking that has been quietly reworked for the contemporary table. The restaurant in Williamsburg came out swinging as a James Beard Best New Restaurant Semifinalist, and the menu earns the attention, moving through braises, curries, and fermented heat with real conviction. Dress sharp, expect to spend.

Green lacquered chairs and upholstered nooks fill this Italian restaurant tucked into Rockefeller Center, brought uptown by the team behind SoHo's King. The open kitchen and bar counter keep it lively without tipping into noisy. The menu is short and focused, leaning into good pasta and a cocktail list that includes a negroni sbagliato bianco, which sounds made up but isn't.

The San Sebastian martini, shaken with Basque pepper brine, sets the tone before you've looked at the menu. Rada is a sleek Mediterranean small-plates spot where the room feels cooler than you do but the hospitality quietly closes that gap. The compact menu shifts often and leans toward sharing, landing on the New York Times Restaurant List for 2025. Order one of the martinis first; you'll figure out the rest from there.

The brick oven sits in full view of the dining room, which at a Neapolitan-leaning pizza restaurant in Flatiron is either a statement or a dare. Audace is the kind of place where the dough does the talking: light, well-leavened, the sort that doesn't leave you horizontal by dessert. The room is calm and low-key, the service attentive without hovering. It landed on 50 Top Pizza USA and took their Best Cocktail List award, which is not a thing most pizza spots can say.

The wood-fired oven scents the whole room before you've found a seat, which is the idea. Ken's is a casual pizza spot on SE 28th where the dough ferments long and the crust lands somewhere between Neapolitan and what Portland thinks pizza should be, which turns out to be a persuasive argument. Ken Forkish runs the show, and the wine list is a step above what the no-reservations vibe might lead you to expect. It placed on 50 Top Pizza USA.

Pasquale Illiano left Naples and landed in one of Rhode Island's smaller towns, which is saying something in the smallest state in the union. The pizzeria runs the full range, Neapolitan, New York style, Grandma, and each style is treated as its own discipline rather than a casual option. The pasta dishes quietly hold their own alongside the pizza, which is not a given. Ranked fifteenth on 50 Top Pizza USA.

A Neapolitan pizzeria a short walk from Barclays Center, Pizza Secret lands at number 15 on 50 Top Pizza USA, which is not the kind of thing a slice shop does quietly. The dough is well-leavened and light, the kind that doesn't sit heavy, and the fried appetizers are worth ordering before the pie arrives. The room is renovated and family-friendly without feeling like a chain, and the service knows when to disappear.

The igloo-shaped Neapolitan oven is the anchor, but this Madison pizzeria runs a wider game than that. The chef, a Tony Gemignani protégé, turns out New York, Detroit, and by-the-slice styles alongside the Neapolitan, which is the rare pizza-school flex that actually makes sense on one menu. A wine list, beers, and cocktails round things out. It landed at number 12 on 50 Top Pizza USA, plus a special nod for its dessert list.

Dinner inside a working greenhouse, with outdoor tables ringed by citrus trees and herbs, sets the mood before a plate arrives. Poppy & Seed is a fine dining room in Anaheim's Packing District built around organic, locally sourced Southern cooking, the kind where shrimp and grits shares a menu with steak tartare brightened by pickled sea beans. A James Beard semifinalist, it draws a crowd that dresses up without overdoing it and lingers well past sunset.

The bi-level dining room turns heads before a plate arrives, all warm light and an open kitchen pulling focus. Seven Reasons is a contemporary Caribbean restaurant drawing from Venezuela, Peru, and the islands, with portions generous enough to make a point. The cooking leans bold and colorful, the kind of place where a dessert list actually earns your attention. A James Beard semifinalist for Best Chef: Mid-Atlantic.

The red-orange cushions and pale green backsplash look like someone decorated with the produce order, which makes sense for a neighborhood restaurant that works directly with local farms. Tomat does all-day, but evenings are when the kitchen gets serious about California's seasonal haul. Dishes are meant for the table to share, and the room fills accordingly. The Michelin Guide has it selected, and Esquire put it on its best new restaurants list for 2025.

Neapolitan bingo tablecloths, Napoli soccer jerseys on the walls, and an owner who never steps away from the oven: this is a Neapolitan pizza spot in Miami's MiMo District that takes its identity seriously without taking itself too seriously. The dough is well-leavened with a high, airy crust, and the cooking is precise. It ranked 11th on 50 Top Pizza USA. Note that an 18% gratuity is included by default on the bill.

The menu lists the farmers by name before it lists the dishes, which tells you everything about this Santa Monica neighborhood restaurant. The room has been around forever, and the lighting and leather booths have earned their intimacy. Market-driven New American means the cocktails change with the seasons too, a detail the bar takes seriously. The Michelin Guide has it selected, and the Los Angeles Times put it on their 101 best restaurants list.

Old Town Scottsdale runs heavy on sushi and gourmet burgers, so a candlelit Mexican restaurant with a serious tequila program reads almost as contraband. The Mission leans modern Latin rather than strictly regional, but the street tacos and bacon-wrapped hot dogs hold their own against the fancier plates. The room is dark and unhurried in a way that makes a second round of $15 cocktails feel inevitable.

The servers might greet you in Greek if you look like you belong, and on Ditmars Boulevard, plenty of people do. This no-frills Astoria taverna has been feeding the neighborhood long enough to qualify as local infrastructure, with a bustling open kitchen and a menu built around simply prepared whole fish, classic dips, and flaky spinach pie. The Michelin Guide has it listed, but the crowd at the tables wouldn't need to be told.

The sage-green tiles and gleaming copper pans of the open kitchen are as composed as the plates coming out of it. La Mercerie is a fine dining French restaurant tucked inside Roman and Williams' SoHo emporium, and the room leans hard into its own beauty, tiny tables, delicate blooms, and a lunch crowd dressed like they have somewhere even better to be afterward. The menu runs to careful, classic indulgence: consommé, profiteroles, tarte tatin.

A pile of king crab legs on crushed ice is usually the first thing you see, and it sets the tone. Bacchanal, inside Caesars Palace, is a massive all-you-can-eat buffet running brunch through dinner with over 250 items across ten kitchens. The strategic move is to lap the room before committing a plate to anything. Shellfish, wood-fired grill, rotating global stations, and a dessert spread that suggests nobody told anyone to stop.

Dark wood, banquette seating, and lighting low enough that everyone looks like they're closing a deal. Daniel's is a steakhouse on Federal Highway that plays the genre completely straight, which turns out to be exactly what Fort Lauderdale wanted. The menu is built for sharing, so bring people. A Floridian spin on oysters Rockefeller gets things moving, the steaks are cooked with care, and the corn pudding is not optional.

Foie toast, a round of goose liver ganache on rye with a dot of strawberry preserves, sets the tone at this contemporary Japanese fine dining room in Coral Gables. The chef team behind the original has rebuilt it with a bolder personality, and the menu moves freely between tasting format and à la carte without losing its nerve. Bone marrow panna cotta and a creamsicle ice cream sandwich share real estate here, and somehow that feels earned.

Petit Coquin is a small French bistro on South Presa that does Paris with a straight face, until someone at the next table says "y'all" and the spell breaks. The menu changes often and runs prix fixe or à la carte, with the classics doing the heavy lifting: eggs with mayonnaise, lentils and sausage, a chocolate mousse. The wine list leans French and the room is tight and elegant, so dress like you made a reservation.

The cypress wood counter is the only seat that matters at this omakase spot tucked into Ross Avenue, where the format blends kaiseki composed bites with a procession of nigiri. Chef Paul Ko's cooking reads refined and quietly global, duck confit in phyllo giving way to delicate anago dusted with sansho pepper. "Kozy" is doing some heavy lifting in the name, given how sleek the room actually is, but the Michelin Guide listing is not.

The open hearth at this Middle Eastern restaurant in East Hollywood runs hot enough that you feel it from your seat, which is either thrilling or a heads-up to dress accordingly. Ori Menashe and Genevieve Gergis (of Bestia fame) built the menu around long-skewer kebabs and wood-fired bread, though the grilled lobster in green harissa suggests the kitchen has range. Getting a reservation requires patience, or luck, or both.

An L-shaped hinoki counter glows under warm, calibrated light inside this omakase room tucked into a residential tower in Bay Village. Chef Sky Zheng works in the edomae tradition, letting high-quality fish imported from Japan do the talking with minimal but precise seasoning. Three seatings run nightly, so showing up on time is less a suggestion than a rule. The Michelin Guide has selected it.

A gold-painted tin ceiling and a curved chef's counter overlooking an open kitchen set the tone at this Back Bay tasting menu spot. The menu changes on a whim, sometimes mid-week, and leans conceptual enough that not every dish lands with obvious logic. The chefs deliver the food themselves, the wine list is handwritten, and the whole operation runs loose and confident. An old-school fine dining veteran that forgot to be uptight about it.

Jordan Kahn's daytime cafe in the architecturally eccentric Hayden Tract looks like a place that takes itself very seriously, and then the food shows up and you realize it has earned the silence. The interior is stripped to near nothing, which focuses you entirely on plates that are genuinely intricate without announcing it. A morning or lunch stop, but not a casual one.

The rooftop of the Hoxton Hotel in Williamsburg, with the Manhattan skyline doing its thing at sunset, is a solid place to eat skewers. This is Michael Solomonov's skewer house, and the format is pleasantly fixed: a spread of salatim to start, then meat and vegetable skewers over the coals, then soft-serve. Reservations are famously hard to land, which tells you something about how the room fills on a Tuesday.

A row of boncuk, the blue glass amulets meant to ward off evil, lines the wall above the wood paneling at this Cambridge neighborhood restaurant, which has been pulling people in for Eastern Mediterranean and Turkish cooking longer than most of its neighbors have been open. Order broadly across the small plates menu, because the vegetables section holds its own against the fish and meat. The room is warm, the kitchen visible from the back room, and the garden fills up fast in summer.