The Best Places to Eat and Drink in the United States

The kolaches here come from a family recipe that's been turning out round, fruit-filled Czech pastries in this 720-square-foot shop for generations. It's a counter-service bakery on Telephone Road where things move fast: trays come out of the oven and disappear before the display board gets warm. House-roasted coffee and fajita-stuffed croissants round out a menu that has grown without losing the grandmother's-kitchen feel it apparently started as.

The box says "We are not affiliated with other Rainbow Donuts" before you've even opened it, which tells you something about the regulars here. This North Phoenix donut shop runs a classic menu of yeast and cake donuts, maple bars, fritters, crullers, and cinnamon rolls, all leaning fluffy and fresh without the cloying sweetness that plagues lesser cases. The Tiger Tail, chocolate and vanilla dough twisted together and glazed, is the one to start with.

The Rabbit Hole is a casual Taiwanese spot on the Mission-Bernal border, and its burger is the reason a lot of people show up. It arrives piled with pickled carrots, cucumbers, and peppers under a shimmering brioche bun, with a cheddar crust on the smashed patties that crunches against all that vinegar. The fries come dusted with nori and a side of gochujang ketchup, so the burger is doing a very specific kind of cultural crossover.

An industrial-chic small-plates restaurant on Royal Street where the menu leans Gulf-forward with enough global riffs to keep things interesting. The kitchen started as a tapas spot and still thinks in that register, running imaginative little plates alongside proper mains. Save a lane for dessert: the bread pudding with toasted pecans, apples, and bourbon caramel has become something of a local institution. Closed Sundays and Mondays, so plan accordingly.

The walls here have been graffitied for so long that the graffiti is basically the décor. This old-school Boulder pizza and burger joint has been slinging pies with what regulars call "ugly crust" and grass-fed beef burgers since before anyone can remember, in a room that has hosted Robert Redford (as a server), Obama, and Bourdain. The Buff Mac, a burger topped with buffalo chicken tenders and blue cheese, has its own quiet mythology.

The Taco Stand is a counter-service taco spot on Spring Mountain Road, where the tortillas are pressed fresh as each order comes in, so nobody is rushing you but the line behind you. The menu stops at six kinds of taco, plus burritos, quesadillas, and carne asada fries. The real decision-making happens at the salsa bar, which runs from habanero to chipotle and invites you to build something nobody warned you about. Cheap, casual, no dress code.

The Thumb is a north Scottsdale gas station where you pump gas outside and order brisket by the platter inside, under a chandelier that looks lost. Counter service, cash-register prices, and a gift shop and coffee bar to browse while your number comes up. The beans are so meaty they flirt with chili. Phoenix New Times has named it one of the Valley's top barbecue spots, which is a sentence about a place with a fish tank.

The lounge at the Wayfarer has been around forever, tucked inside a low-slung, wood-accented building steps from the beach, with Haystack Rock framed through the window. It leans into whiskey, and the bar program swings seasonal: hot toddies and Irish coffee when the Oregon coast does its worst, blueberry lavender lemonade spiked with vodka when it relents. The kind of cozy corner where date night actually feels like one.

A sun-filled corner bakery in Jamaica Plain where the croissant menu changes often enough to keep regulars guessing. Third Cliff built its following at a farmers market cart before settling into its permanent spot, and the French pastry classics get unexpected company here, kimchi cheddar croissants alongside vegan cardamom morning buns. The espresso is taken seriously. Neighborhood coffee shop energy, pastry-destination ambitions.

Those Guys Pies is an off-Strip pizza shop in the Lake East neighborhood, and it began life as the secret pizza spot tucked inside the Cosmopolitan. It does round and square pies, with names like the Big Sexy and a pulled-pork, pineapple, jalapeño number called the Barbecue Maui Wowie. A ghost-pepper pie called the Diablo is on the menu too, for anyone who woke up feeling fearless. Eater included it on its list of the best pizza in Las Vegas.

An old-school Jewish bakery that's been a Houston institution for generations, Three Brothers turns out egg bread, rye, pumpernickel, bagels, Kaiser rolls, pecan pie, and gingerbread men year-round from its Braeswood location. The roots run deep, tracing back to Eastern European family recipes, and the counter still feels like it. Three other outposts have opened around the city, but this is where the habit starts.

This is an old-school Houston bakery with a display case that runs from rye and pumpernickel to Kaiser rolls, bagels, coffee cakes, and pecan pie. The recipes trace back to Poland by way of a family that's been at it for generations, which explains why the gingerbread men show up year-round instead of waiting for permission. Expect a line of regulars who already know their order and a cashier who's heard every question about the cookies.

This is an old-school Houston bakery with Eastern European roots, the kind of place where rye, pumpernickel, and Kaiser rolls share a case with coffee cakes and pecan pie. Gingerbread men are made year-round, which tells you the cookies have no concept of a calendar. It's a counter-service stop with a few tables, a bag-it-yourself pace, and a line that's mostly regulars who already know what they came for.

Three Brothers is an old-school Houston bakery with a counter, a line, and a bakery case that does not believe in restraint. Rye, pumpernickel, and Kaiser rolls sit near coffee cakes, pecan pie, and gingerbread men that are available in any month, apparently because December has no monopoly. It's cheap, casual, and busy, the kind of place where you walk in for bread and walk out holding a box of cookies you can't quite explain.

A craft brewery and pizza spot on Cherry Street with a tiered outdoor patio that does a convincing impression of a neighborhood park, sun shades and all. The beer list swings from a New England IPA to a French toast pastry ale, with a Cherry Street Sour for those keeping it local. Detroit-style squares and thin tavern-style pizzas handle the food side. Live music plays regularly, but the back picnic tables sit just far enough away that conversation survives.

Toca Madera is a Mexican restaurant on Allen Parkway that treats dinner as a floor show, with live entertainment, a Vegas-meets-Miami sensibility, and cocktails and dishes that arrive on fire. The menu runs from smoky ceviche to grilled wagyu to a branzino in chipotle mezcal butter. Expect dressed-up groups and a bill to match, plus a kitchen that stays open until 1 a.m. on weekends, which Eater counted among Houston's best late-night spots.

A bowl of red without a single bean in sight, served the way Frank X. Tolbert intended when he more or less rewrote the rulebook on Texas chili decades ago. This casual chili parlor in Grapevine keeps his recipe going, ladling out small and large bowls with cheese and crackers, or folded into a Frito pie if you're feeling committed. It's a reason to make the suburban drive, and Main Street has enough to browse while the chili lingers.

The Tonga Room is a tiki bar and restaurant built around the Fairmont's old indoor pool, which now holds a floating stage where a band plays through the thunderstorms. Every fifteen minutes the ceiling rains on the lagoon, complete with lightning and thunderclaps, and grown adults rise from their seats to film it. The mai tais are strong, the kids get a layered blue-and-pink mocktail, and the pork belly bites help the whole thing along.

The cigarette machine still works. Tony's Baltimore Grill is a dive bar and pizza-pasta joint that has looked exactly the same since the 1970s, and the regulars, who get tattoos of the place, would riot if anything changed. The 24-hour bar draws casino workers, bands off the nearby stage, and anyone who needs a heavy pour at 1 a.m. Order the pizza, order the eggplant, and let a stranger tell you what Atlantic City is actually like.

Tortello is a pastifico on Division with a storefront window that doubles as a live show, staff cutting and kneading dough for anyone who slows down on the sidewalk. The flour comes from Italy, and a master sfoglina was brought in to train the team, which tells you how seriously they take noodles. It's casual and moderately priced, with fresh pasta by the pound to go and a patio that fills up the minute the weather allows.

Toscana is the full-service, sit-down Italian restaurant tucked inside the sprawling Eataly food hall at Park MGM, which means you walk past pastry counters and pasta shelves to get there, which somehow works. The menu leans Tuscan and seasonal, the kind of regional Italian that changes with what's good rather than just what photographs well. It's a proper dinner-out option in a building most people wander through eating arancini.

The kitchen crew is up at 3 a.m. so you don't have to be, which is the kind of arrangement that makes a bagel shop worth its reputation. Townie is a no-frills NY-style operation in Palm Springs turning out hand-rolled bagels, including a sourdough version and a daily gluten-free batch, plus black-and-white cookies and brownies. Call ahead, because the line in the desert sun is a real thing and a hat will only get you so far.

This is a Sichuan restaurant in Sterling Heights where the peppercorns go to work on your lips and don't clock out until well after dessert. The fried squirrel-shaped fish is what regulars order before the menus finish landing, and the vegetarian options are better than the cuisine's usual afterthought. Big round tables suit a crowd, which is how most of the room arrives. Eater lists it among Metro Detroit's best Chinese restaurants.

The entrance is a gated alley door with a buzzer, which already tells you something about the evening ahead. Trona is a speakeasy cocktail bar in Central East Austin that draws equally from Mexico and Japan, so mezcal and tequila share the back bar with Japanese whisky. The space runs narrow with a small patio, and reservations are the move. Bringing a date here feels a little smug, which is kind of the point.

This is a neighborhood red-sauce joint on Vernon Park Place, run by the same family for ages and arranged so that nothing has had to be fixed. The menu lives on chalkboards, the wine list is long and priced like it respects your wallet, and the eggplant Parm and lemon chicken arrive in portions that assume you have somewhere to nap. Regulars treat first-timers like cousins they've been meaning to feed.

Twisted Sourdough is a strip-mall pizza counter in Henderson that bakes its sourdough into a cone, essentially a waffle cone of pizza stuffed with sauce, stretchy cheese, and pepperoni. The mozzarella sticks run about the length of a forearm, so bring a measuring tape if you're the type. There are also New York slices and deep dish with a caramelized cheese crust, plus a handful of tables and a covered patio. It's on The Infatuation's list of best pizza spots in Las Vegas.

A rooftop cocktail bar perched above downtown Springfield with an art deco walk-in and a big-city view that the city itself doesn't always advertise. The long bar-height table near the corner fits a group comfortably, and the sightlines over the railing make it easy to feel like you've escaped somewhere. Flatbreads circulate for sharing, and the drink menu runs from cocktails to mocktails, which keeps everyone at the table happy.

Vaquero Taquero is a tiny taco counter on East 31st where nothing on the menu costs more than five dollars, which makes it a rare lunch that won't require explaining your finances to anyone. The al pastor comes with pineapple, and the spiciest salsa is there for people who like a little drama. The room is small enough that you should bring one friend, maybe two if you're feeling reckless.