The Best Places in the United States

Corsa is the upscale Italian restaurant inside the Caldera House hotel in Teton Village, steps from the ski slopes. The dining room is a modern take on a ski chalet, with a fireplace, delicate glassware, and booths along the back wall. Margherita pizzas get passed around as appetizers before the entrees arrive, which is a good way to keep a table of visiting relatives quiet. The Infatuation put it on its list of Jackson Hole's best restaurants.

The outdoor tables on Baker Street are as close to a Parisian sidewalk cafe as Cow Hollow gets, which is either charming or delusional depending on your mood. Côte Ouest is a French bistro where weekend brunch brings smoked salmon benedict on an open-faced croissant, and a Kir Royale seems less indulgent than it should at noon. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's top French restaurants.

A hand-painted plywood sign out front announces a small, no-fuss coffee shop where a few tables, a pour-over, and a record player are the entire amenities package. The beans get roasted across the river and the pastries get baked in-house, so nobody's outsourcing the important parts. It shares its room with Soen, which means a coffee run can quietly turn into onigiri and shaved ice. It's on The Infatuation's list of Portland's best coffee shops.

Chicken and dumplings with celery-flecked, black-pepper dumplings gives you a sense of how Covey thinks about American classics: familiar enough to order without squinting at the menu, just a little more considered than you'd expect. It's a neighborhood restaurant that tips toward the elegant side, with a late bar menu of small bites that makes it equally useful for a quick glass of wine before heading home.

Craig's is a bright, airy coffee shop in Midtown where the espresso is the main event and the food shows up on a rotating schedule, like a very caffeinated food hall. Pop-up vendors come and go, and a weekly drop of Tacos Hernandez breakfast burritos is the closest thing to a fixed menu. Iced coffee comes in bottles, popsicles come from JB's Ice Pops, and Eater counts it among Detroit's best coffee shops.

Creekside Market is a casual sandwich counter on the road out of town toward Grand Teton National Park, which makes it the last stop before you commit to a day outdoors. A handwritten board lists the options, and the turkey club on a croissant is the move for anyone whose backpack lunch history involves a pancaked PB&J. Prices stay in sandwich territory, and nobody minds if you walk in wearing hiking boots.

Crooked Ewe is a craft brewery and ale house where the patio hangs over the St. Joseph River, so your cream ale comes with a view and a faint sense of smugness. The kitchen smokes brisket and pastrami with real conviction, then turns around and runs a full vegan menu that changes often, jackfruit tacos included. It's casual, order-at-your-own-pace stuff, and the carnivores and the plant people share a table without incident.

Frida Kahlo shares wall space with a pink-legged chameleon and a saguaro the size of a doorway, which tells you a lot about this cheerful Mexican brunch spot in downtown Glendale. Weekend mornings fill with families and kids while the drinks arrive dressed up: horchata in a jar with a peanut dulce de leche rim, cafe de olla in mismatched earthenware. The pambazo, a football-sized sandwich dunked in guajillo chile, is not a thing you order by accident.

The cupcakes here are moist enough to make you question every dry, forgettable one you've settled for before. A cupcake shop with locations across the Bay Area, Cupcakin' leans into citrus flavors, key lime and lemon cream pie among them, with tangy curd and a crumbled graham cracker base. Minis are available for the non-committal. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's top bakeries.

The chef here trained in fine dining and then opened a Japanese curry shop in a Burlingame strip mall, which is either a pivot or a philosophy. The curry is built on three-hour caramelized onions and two dozen spices, and it eats like something that took considerably longer than it costs. Katsudon and a buttery corn soup round out the short menu. Casual, counter-service priced, and named among the Bay Area's best Japanese spots by the Chronicle.

The broccoli rabe sandwich with tomato jam and melted provolone on a griddled sesame torta is the kind of thing that makes you question every sandwich you've ever eaten. This Brookline sandwich shop runs on the conviction that bread choice is not a casual decision, and the team's fine-dining background shows in every layered, deliberately toasted result. The New York Times put it on their Boston list, which feels about right.

The move at this Japantown Korean soup shop is kalbijjim, braised beef short ribs served tableside while a torch melts a crown of cheese over the meat and chewy rice cakes. It's theatrical in a way that feels earned rather than forced. The New York Times named it among San Francisco's 25 best restaurants, which tracks with the line out front most evenings. Go hungry and order the beef soup alongside; it's not a one-dish situation.

Dainty Maid is a downtown South Bend food hall where one group can order a buttered chicken wrap, breakfast udon, a smash burger, and a challah pastry and still sit at the same table. Everything gets ordered on your phone, and a server carries it over, so nobody has to hover at a counter. There's also a coffee bar and a cocktail bar called Hall Pass, which keeps a long brunch from feeling like homework.

The menu at this SoBo District Italian trattoria has barely changed since Sonny Dalesandro inherited it from his dad, which is either the point or the proof. Family recipes anchor the kitchen, and regulars who've been ordering the same thing for years show no signs of reconsidering. Comfort is the operating philosophy here, stated plainly and delivered without ceremony.

A neighborhood café in Bellaire where brunch runs all day and the menu splits its time between bagel and lox and chicken and waffles without making either feel out of place. Mimosas come by the small, the large, or the pitcher, which tells you something about the crowd's intentions on a Sunday. The kind of low-key local spot Houstonians tend to volunteer without being asked.

The coffee roasting happens right on the premises, which means the Henderson strip-mall exterior is a bit misleading. Dark Moon is a coffee shop that takes its work seriously, roasting in-house, making its own syrups and cold brew, and supplying beans to retailers across Southern Nevada. The bar seats are good for a quick espresso or a long morning with a laptop. Order the pour-over if you want proof the sourcing isn't an afterthought.

Rows of smokers out front and a cooler stocked with Fanta set the tone at this Grant Park BBQ shop, which leans into Georgia's anything-goes approach to smoked meat. Pork shoulder gets a splash of vinegary Carolina sauce, brisket and turkey come naked or sauced, and the mac and cheese is made with shells and sharp Cheddar. Local beer pours from the taps, cornhole and bocce fill the yard, and Oakland Cemetery is a short walk away if you need to walk it all off.

Day 6 Coffee Co. is a downtown Houston coffee shop that looks like a British pub from the street and a lightly industrial hangout inside, with an unfinished ceiling and art from Black and Brown artists on the walls. The lattes lean sweet, think cinnamon roll, cheesecake, or a Texas version with caramel, vanilla, and pecan. People come to socialize rather than study, and a closed-door room with couches is there for anyone who wants less noise.

Deadstock is a tiny coffee shop tucked into a boutique hotel lobby, where vintage Nikes sit on shelves like museum pieces and the latte art sometimes wears little high-tops. The drinks have names like LeBronald Palmer and Zero Chill, and the soundtrack might be Marvin Gaye on vinyl. Sneakerheads, tourists, and neighborhood regulars share the few bar seats, no shoe knowledge required, just a tolerance for being judged by your footwear.

A tiny counter next to Swan's Market in Old Oakland, Delage runs an omakase-only format that mixes high-quality nigiri with kaiseki-style courses built around whatever local produce is at its peak. The chef, Mikiko Ando, treats a summer tomato with the same care usually given to imported delicacies. Eight courses, two seatings a night, and reservations that require more foresight than most people expect from a casual-looking room.

An old-school Italian cafe in a building that's been around forever, DePalma's runs a long menu of pasta, pizza, calzones, and antipasti in a downtown room that stays reliably hectic on game weekends and most other nights. The hand-tossed New York-style pies move fast, and the shell pasta stuffed with ricotta and spinach has its own loyal following. Save room: the tiramisu and white chocolate bread pudding are not decorative.

Dessert Oasis is a big, industrial coffee shop in Capitol Park, with enough booths and long tables that nobody has to fight over an outlet. The Rochester roaster pours the standard third-wave lineup, pour-overs included, plus cakes and cheesecakes, and a seasonal drink involving cranberry bitters and gingersnap-infused oat milk. Weekdays mean students and remote workers who've turned the place into an office with better lighting.

Detroit 75 started as a food truck in a gas station parking lot, which is a fairly honest way to begin a sandwich career. The suburban Madison Heights spot is a counter-service lunch place where the Detroit-style cheesesteak arrives overflowing its sesame roll. The shrimp po'boy and the garlic cilantro fries with roasted jalapeño ketchup are also in rotation. You order at the counter, then take a seat in the airy dining room.

This is a working distillery in Eastern Market, which means the tasting room serves what's made down the road, mostly whiskey, gin, and vodka, plus the occasional paczki vodka for Fat Tuesday, because Detroit. The lighting is moody, the cocktails shift with the seasons, and in summer the bar spills onto Riopelle Street, where Midnight Temple next door supplies the Indian street food. Eater counts it among Detroit's best bars.

Soup dumpling shop where the windows let you watch the pleating happen before the steamer basket lands on your table. The xiao long bao are supple and broth-heavy, and the pork and crab version goes a shade yellow from the crab fat, which tells you everything you need to know. Noodle bowls and dry-fried pork chops round things out. Modern, sleek, always busy, and named among the Bay Area's best Chinese restaurants by the San Francisco Chronicle.

The sign above the door reads "Getting Vegas Drunk Since 1962," and the bar delivers on that promise without much fuss. Dino's is a neon-free dive near the Arts District where drinks are cheap and the crowd skews toward people who own at least one ska-related t-shirt. Thursday through Saturday after ten, karaoke takes over the tiny stage and things get appropriately messy. Celebrities have been known to slip in for a song, which is very on-brand for a city like this.

Red mahogany tables, candlelight, and a Sicilian wine list that takes its job seriously set the tone at this South Side osteria and bar. The cooking leans into southern Italy, with Calabrian heat showing up in the shrimp and duck ragu turning up in the gnocchi. It fills up fast, and the room rewards a reservation. Bring someone you want to impress, or at least someone who won't rush you through a lambrusco spritz.

DOG is a walk-up window just off Town Square that sells breakfast burritos and nothing else, in two flavors, vegetable or meat, spicy or not. Modifications are not a conversation you get to have, which is a relief if you've spent the last hour scrolling AllTrails for the perfect hike. The burritos are huge, cheap enough to split, and heavy enough that you'll be quietly renegotiating your route before you've finished.

Dornans is a counter-service pizza spot a five-minute drive from the Moose park gates, which makes it the natural landing spot for anyone who just hiked somewhere and wants to feel good about it. You order at the register, then pick a deck: the lower one for families, the rooftop for the 21+ crowd, with the Tetons doing their thing behind your slice. The pizzas come heavily loaded, and the garlic bread uses the same pillowy dough. Seasonal, so check before you go.

Double D's is a wood-paneled cocktail bar that looks like a 1970s basement, and it behaves like two different bars depending on the hour. Around six it's draft Palomas and whiskey highballs, handy for a drink before dinner next door. By ten there's a line outside, a DJ working through hip-hop and R&B, and someone ordering a Razzle Dazzle shot to get the dancing started.

Graffiti and stickers cover every surface, dollar bills hang from the ceiling, and the smell of day-old bacon grease meets you at the door. Double Down is a dive bar in the Fruit Loop that's been hosting punk shows and burlesque nights since forever, drawing tattooed regulars and older locals who never look up from the video poker machines. Order a PBR, order an Ass Juice shot, and lower your expectations to CBGB levels accordingly.

A casual neighborhood restaurant tucked into a shopping center that has no interest in looking like a destination. The chef is a committed wild-foods forager, so after monsoon season the menu fills with mushrooms and greens pulled from the nearby mountains. The rest runs sandwiches, pizzas, and enchiladas alongside a solid draft beer list, all without any of the Santa Fe adobe-and-turquoise performance. There's a butcher shop a few doors down if the mood strikes.

Dragonfly is the casual bar next door to Freya's tasting menu, built for people who want a drink but would like to be a functioning adult tomorrow. The cocktails run low-alcohol or zero, flavored with herbal teas, cucumber, and natural sweeteners, so the drinks read more like a garden than a bar. The room is done in cool blues, and shareable plates keep the evening from becoming purely liquid.

The balcony patio goes by its own name, Carnelian Bay, which tells you most of what you need to know about this Fremont cocktail bar and diner. Margaritas come in disco balls, Jell-O shots taste like homemade jam, and pimento cheese arrives on fried saltines. The steamed burger at happy hour has a cult following among people who take their diner food seriously while pretending not to.

The record player in the corner runs through a custom vinyl setup built by local audio obsessives, which tells you something about the attention paid here. This coffee shop sits in the lobby of the Noelle hotel, done up in brass and wood with Eames-style swivel chairs. Sump coffee goes into the cortados and cold drip, and the breakfast sandwiches are substantial enough to make the commuters look smug.

Right on Maine Wharf in the Old Port, this two-story seafood restaurant occupies a renovated 1920s building that still has nautical maps on the walls and a faint whiff of Ye Olde New England charm. The kitchen takes old-school coastal staples and quietly dismantles them, running a raw bar alongside ceviches and preparations that would confuse anyone expecting a paper basket of fried clams. Condé Nast Traveler named it among Portland's fifteen best restaurants.

Handmade dumplings folded in a bright counter-service spot inside the Westside Paper complex, a refurbished industrial sprawl on the west side of the city. The menu is compact on purpose: soup dumplings, potstickers, buns, a few noodle dishes. The New York Times put it on its list of Atlanta's 25 best restaurants. Order the lamb and cilantro dumplings if they have them, and they'll tell you if they don't.

A golden dragon installation anchors the back of this sprawling Alameda dim sum hall, where Lazy Susans spin constantly and the noise level confirms everyone is having a good time. Siu mai and har gow are done right, and the golden shrimp rice rolls, crunchy fried shrimp wrapped in chewy rice noodle sheets, are the kind of thing you keep ordering before the last plate is gone. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's top dim sum spots.

Hunanese cooking in Berkeley, built around peppers and a kitchen with a particular way with fish. The poached fillets arrive with green peppercorns and pickled chiles that mean business, and a cracked coconut on the side functions as both a prop and a practical necessity. Portions run large at this casual, share-everything Chinese restaurant, and the sticky rice steamed with pork ribs and corn has developed something of a following.