The Best Places to Eat and Drink in the United States

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.

Around 700 whiskeys line the shelves at this Exposition Park bar, and the team takes the curation seriously enough that it shows. Dark, warm, and a little seductive inside, Whiskeys sits across from Fair Park in a stretch of Dallas most people drive past without stopping. Flights let you move through the collection systematically, including one that honors Uncle Nearest Green, the man behind Jack Daniel's original recipe.

The French dip bánh mì arrives with a cup of beef phở jus for dunking, which tells you everything about how this Inner Richmond restaurant handles Vietnamese food. Chef Rob Lam pulls from both classic technique and contemporary Saigon street food, so the menu lands somewhere between a chicken consommé you'd linger over and jackfruit "pizza" on crispy rice paper. Closer to a special-occasion dinner than a casual bowl spot, price-wise.

Sushi Gen is a Little Tokyo sushi bar that's been around forever, and the line out the door suggests nobody has told it to slow down. The move is a sampler plate of the house favorites, priced like a normal weeknight dinner. If you'd rather steer, grab a seat at the counter and order nigiri à la carte while veteran chefs turn out piece after piece without breaking a sweat. It's casual and cash-friendly, so wear whatever you like.

Cajeta pancakes topped with banana, crème fraîche, caramel, and candied peanuts are doing a lot of the heavy lifting at this colorful, homey Mexico City-style brunch spot in uptown Phoenix. The chef behind Gallo Blanco brings the same seriousness to chilaquiles and thick, crackling papas fritas. Weekend waits get real, so the attached coffee bar next door exists to make the line bearable. The salsas are not messing around.

Walleye reimagined as a fried roulade, filled with mousse made from walleye scraps and served on housemade red mole, is the kind of move that tells you exactly what kind of restaurant this is. Modern Bird is a contemporary American dinner spot where the chef plays textures like a second language, drawing on local Leelanau Peninsula produce. The New York Times put it on their 2025 Restaurant List, and a James Beard semifinalist nod followed.

Tobacco-brown Chesterfield sofas, exposed brick, and a jazz soundtrack that never quite lets you hear your neighbor all set the mood at this River North steakhouse. Wet-aged cuts are broiled with care, and the raw bar holds its own alongside them. The room is dark and loud by design, which mostly works in everyone's favor. The Michelin Guide has it listed, and on a Friday night you'll understand why the reservations go fast.

The coffee here is sourced directly from Guatemala, and the Latin-inspired food menu follows the same ethos. This West Highland coffee shop takes its name from the tradition of gathering around food and drink, which explains a lot about the room: murals on the walls, a crowd that includes Central American immigrants and neighbors who've clearly been coming since week one, and a general feeling that someone thought hard about what welcome looks like.

The "FiLao-O-Fish" slider, a catfish riff on a certain drive-through classic, tells you everything about what Seng Luangrath is doing at this Shaw restaurant. Her Laotian cooking already had a following from Thip Khao, but this newer spot pushes wider, folding in Burmese and Thai flavors while staying loose and fun. Bon Appétit named it one of America's Best New Restaurants in 2025, and the room tends to fill fast.

A converted sawmill building with more than twenty stalls and a sprawling patio big enough to make the whole thing feel like a block party. Sawmill Market is Albuquerque's landmark food hall, with handmade pasta and poke bowls and local beer all under one roof, which means everyone in your group gets what they actually want and nobody has to compromise. Locals and out-of-towners fill it in roughly equal measure, which is usually a decent sign.

A waterfront shack that's been around forever, Red's serves its burgers on crusty sourdough with mustard and pickles, which is not the burger you were expecting but absolutely the one the regulars order without looking up. Anthony Bourdain's photo hangs near the register, which tells you something. Grab a table outside on a sunny day and you get the Bay Bridge thrown in, arguably at the lowest price point the Embarcadero has to offer.

A tunnel of flowers leads you into a maximalist cocktail bar on the ninth floor of a Dallas hotel, where art deco geometry, a bedazzled Russian doll, and fireplaces compete equally for your attention. The drink menu is just as playful, leaning on pressed mineral water and cold foams. A wraparound rooftop opens up beyond it all, which feels less like a bar patio and more like a bonus level nobody told you about.

The counter stools and cozy booths have the feel of a midcentury diner, which is exactly the point: The Eleanor is a breakfast and brunch spot built as a deliberate antidote to Scottsdale's party-brunch scene. Pancakes, hash, and biscuits and gravy share the menu with avocado toast and Buddha bowls, and the grab-and-go fridge means you can linger over slow coffee or bolt, your call.

Sit on the shaded deck overlooking Newport Harbor and you start to understand what this restaurant is doing. It's a waterfront dining room that leans into New England seafood without leaning on cliché. The tonnarelli with green garlic and Narragansett clams landed on the New York Times' best dishes of 2024 list, and the pasta itself is made in-house daily. A James Beard semifinalist for Outstanding Hospitality, which tracks: the place has that rare ease.

The fried chicken here landed on the New York Times' list of the year's best dishes across the country, which is a notable thing to pull off from a supper club in a town where a June snowstorm is plausible. The bird comes brined and buttermilked, but the real draw is the rotating sauce lineup, classic ranch and pineapple-habanero alongside wilder guest appearances like plum-fenugreek. The chef holds a 2025 James Beard semifinalist nod for Best Chef: Mountain.

Gumbo as dark as a Louisiana bayou at midnight, only built around smoked brisket and wilted greens, is a reasonable summary of what the kitchen is doing here. This modern Cajun-Creole restaurant in Louisville's Schnitzelburg neighborhood lands chef Lawrence Weeks on the New York Times Restaurant List and a James Beard Emerging Chef semifinalist nod, both in the same year. The menu takes familiar Southern dishes and quietly tilts them sideways with Haitian, Latin, and Gulf Coast influences.

A pasta program that changes with the season keeps regulars at this Germantown neighborhood restaurant coming back to see what Philip Krajeck is running on the menu. The cooking is unfussy and ingredient-driven, the kind of sharing-plates dinner where everything on the table looks better than what you ordered. The Michelin Guide has it selected, and a James Beard nomination for Best Chef Southeast followed.

A former automotive welding shop in East Williamsburg now houses this multi-roaster coffee boutique, where the menu leans into distilled coffee, blue algae, and clarified matcha alongside a hand-brew selection from roasters around the world. The back of the space runs a small craft brewery called Niteglow, so the afternoon espresso can pivot to a draft pour. It reads like a coffee shop that got very ambitious and kept going.

Fresh rosemary on wooden tables and a bottle of house-made hot sauce waiting when you sit down sets the tone at this counter-service cafe. The farmhouse-chic room has soft bistro lights, chalkboard menus, and a walk-up window that made takeout brunch a neighborhood ritual. The line down the block on weekends is the real menu recommendation. Phoenix New Times named it best breakfast in 2024.

The cocktail menu runs past 100 drinks, and some of them arrive as flavored clouds. Barmini is José Andrés's molecular cocktail bar, the mischievous sibling to Minibar next door, where the same spirit of culinary wizardry gets redirected entirely into what's in your glass. Spherified drinks and leather-aged premixes are the house vernacular. A James Beard nominee for Outstanding Bar Program, it's the kind of place where watching the bartender work is half the point.

The Art Deco bones of this Gold Coast lobby bar date back to the Jazz Age, and the cocktail program leans into that: Cuban classics and Caribbean-inflected originals served under ornate ceilings that most bars would kill for. Sparrow calls itself a neighborhood bar, which is technically true, though the neighbors here wear better shoes than most. A named honoree at the Spirited Awards, it draws people in from well outside the Gold Coast.

Charcoal-grilled satay mushrooms from Long Beach share a menu with Dungeness crab curry and lip-tingling beef nam tok at this small, casual Thai restaurant in Atwater Village. The team behind it built a following on Northern Thai-style sausage packed for pandemic pickup, and the cooking has only gotten looser and more confident since. The New York Times put it on their list of the 25 best restaurants in Los Angeles right now, which for a neighborhood spot with a takeout window is saying something.

Smashed cucumber on labneh is the opening move, and it sets the tone for this lively family-style Mediterranean and Middle Eastern restaurant from the team behind Emmer & Rye. The table fills fast with kebabs, fire-roasted eggplant, and dipping sauces nobody agrees to share, which is fine because the wine list is thoughtfully organized and keeps the peace. The New York Times put it on their Austin shortlist, and it's a Michelin Selected pick.

Folk is a Corktown cafe that doubles as a bottle shop, so you can order a turmeric chai latte and leave with a bottle of biodynamic wine without anyone finding it strange. The brunch menu leans toward biscuits and waffle sandwiches, and the pantry shelves favor makers from the neighborhood and beyond. Seating is limited indoors, so the patio fills first. The wine program was a James Beard semifinalist in 2024.

A pastry shop on Gough inspired by Jewish diaspora baking, where every drink arrives with a cube of halva whether you asked for it or not. The team behind it came up through Tartine, and the instincts show: babka with a proper crust, pistachio cream puffs, spiced Turkish coffee cream pie. A James Beard Semifinalist for Outstanding Pastry Chef, and a cozy, specific kind of place that knows exactly what it wants to be.

The dining room is dressed up like a British Raj club, which is exactly the kind of setting that makes sense a few blocks from the White House. This is traditional Indian fine dining where politicians have been settling into the half-moon banquettes for decades, and the polished cooking moves across the subcontinent, from northern grilled meats to southern coconut-laced seafood. The Washington Post named it among D.C.'s 40 best restaurants.

The pork toast, shrimp mousse pressed onto Japanese milk bread, is the detail that explains why this Taiwanese comfort food restaurant filled up fast after opening in the Mission. The chef came up through pop-up days, and that restless, inventive energy carried over into a full room and a menu that swings between numbing mala ribs and a silky tofu pudding. Eater named it one of the best new restaurants in America in 2023.

The ceiling is draped in colorful fabric to conjure a Bedouin tent, and the smell of mesquite smoke handles the rest of the welcome. This sprawling Middle Eastern grill in the southwest suburbs sends out kefta, shish kebab, and lamb on platters sized for a small wedding party, with hummus and rice enough to guarantee leftovers. The New York Times put it on their short list of Chicago's best restaurants right now, which is the kind of thing that's hard to ignore.

White tablecloths in an Uptown cottage near a bend in the river, which tells you something about how New Orleans operates. Brigtsen's is a Cajun-Creole restaurant where the chef spent years under Paul Prudhomme absorbing the bayou side of Louisiana cooking, then brought it back to the city and blended the two traditions into something that belongs entirely to this place. The room is unhurried, the menu is not trying to be fashionable, and that combination tends to fill tables with regulars.

Chica is a Latin American restaurant inside the Venetian, and its weekend brunch plays out in a dim, purple-lit room with a DJ, which makes the eggs benedict feel slightly illicit. It's a sit-down meal at resort prices, with arepas arriving by the basket and a chocolate skull that gets set on fire at the table. Eater and The Infatuation both put it on their Las Vegas brunch lists, which seems fair given the pyrotechnics.

Lines form before the doors open at this Aspen oyster bar, and dinner reservations go fast enough that regulars know to call exactly 30 days out. The move is a dozen oysters with warm house-baked sourdough and a martini, a combination that holds up at lunch just as well as at dinner. Linguine with clams and cioppino turn up on tables all around you. It stays packed even in the slow season, which makes the bar an honest option.

The mochiko fried chicken, made exclusively from dark meat, is a reasonable place to start understanding what this Hawaiian plate lunch spot in Highwood is about. The chef went from feeding co-workers at a carwash to a brick-and-mortar in what feels like about fifteen minutes. Loco moco, huli huli chicken, and grilled pork belly land on your tray with the kind of confidence that got the place onto the New York Times list of top Chicago restaurants.

The wine cave-like dining room holds over 1,500 bottles, curated by a sommelier who also runs the room. Ellina is a polished Italian restaurant that has been an Aspen anchor long enough to feel like the default answer when someone asks where to eat. Housemade pastas and chicken Milanese hold steady on the menu while the horseshoe bar handles Negronis and the patio on the Hyman pedestrian mall comes with blankets for cool summer nights.

The neon sign and picnic tables say 1960s burger stand, and Falafel's Drive-In has been around forever on Stevens Creek. The family behind it kept the corn dogs but quietly built out a Middle Eastern menu before hummus was something people put on a charcuterie board. The falafel pita arrives saucy and packed, finished with tahini and a sweet hot sauce, and the banana shake has a devoted following.

Gavroche is a modern French restaurant in Old Town, and the burger gets most of the attention. It's a brisket and short rib patty dressed in seared foie gras, caviar, and black truffle, with beef-fat fries, for $55. That tells you the rest of the menu isn't playing it cool either. Expect a date-night room where people dress up a little, then order a hamburger like it's perfectly normal.

The entire menu is gluten-free, which sounds like a warning but reads more like a dare. Jewel's is a breakfast and brunch cafe on the east side of Phoenix where the doughnut holes are light, the tortillas stretch properly, and the waffles hold up under chicken and spicy bacon without apology. Dairy-free, vegan, and vegetarian options run alongside bottomless mimosas and locally roasted coffee. Nothing on the plate telegraphs its constraints.

A glowing Calacatta Viola raw bar piled with oysters anchors the room at this seafood-forward French restaurant in the Design District. David Barzelay of Lazy Bear calls it "big tent French," meaning classic technique with detours through New Orleans and the French West Indies. The room moves through moody lit spaces, plush banquettes, and people-watching booths, and the vibe lands closer to "one more round" than white tablecloth.

A strip-mall address in Chinatown that could be a nail salon from the outside, but inside it's a spare, serene omakase counter where the fish comes in from Tokyo's bay and the sake list runs to two dozen carefully chosen bottles with tasting notes. The room is small and the reservations are harder than they look on a map. Scott Conant and friends have been known to show up, which is the kind of endorsement that doesn't stay quiet long.

A humble neighborhood grocery store in Wailuku where the real draw is through the back, at the seafood counter. Poke here skips the trendy bowl format entirely: just impeccably fresh ahi, hamachi, and tako dressed in traditional Hawaiian seasonings, tasting clean and briny the way poke is supposed to. The pohole fern salad alongside is worth picking up too. Locals fill the counter fast, and they rarely need to look at anything twice.

Vintage Thai movie posters cover the walls at this West Portal neighborhood Thai spot, where the kitchen takes familiar dishes somewhere more playful. Short rib fried rice comes with cured egg yolk; fried papaya salad arrives battered and crisp with dressing on the side. The kaya toast, pandan custard on pillowy milk bread with a scoop of ice cream, landed on The Infatuation's dessert list and you'll see why. Good for families who want something livelier than the usual takeout routine.

The dough ferments for a full week before anyone slides a pizza into the oven, which is an unusual amount of patience for a shoe-box takeout counter in suburban Chicago. The result is a tavern-style pie where even the center squares crack, the sauce runs deep, and the Italian sausage stays juicy. The New York Times put it on their Chicago list. Get there early on weekends; it sells out by 5:30.

The stools, the coffee pots, the laminated menu the size of a small newspaper: from the outside this looks like a classic American diner, until the pupusas and fried plantains arrive. La Cabaña is a roadside counter spot drawing on Honduran, Nicaraguan, and Guatemalan recipes to feed a crowd that clearly knows every server by name. Just maybe check the soccer schedule before you go, because the TV over the bar has opinions.

Arched doorways, colorful tile, and a bar stacked floor to ceiling with mezcal and tequila set the cantina tone at this lively Mexican restaurant in downtown Aspen. Sizzling fajitas arrive tableside, ceviches and Baja-style oysters balance the heavier plates, and the agave program gives you plenty of reason to linger. The frozen margarita is non-negotiable after a day on the mountain.

Lavo is an Italian restaurant that treats brunch as a two-act play. Sunday is the calm one, an all-you-can-eat spread with a towering bread display at the door and shoestring fries you'll keep reaching for. Saturday trades the tablecloth for fog machines, DJs, and bottle service delivered by someone dressed as a banana. Wear whichever outfit matches your appetite for chaos, and bring a budget for either.

The all-day cafe format predates every trend that claims to have invented it, and Le Pichet has been running it quietly near Pike Place for ages. It's a French bistro, the straightforward kind, with charcuterie and wine available at hours when most kitchens are between meals. The room has a Parisian neighborhood feel that doesn't require much imagination to buy into. A charcuterie plate and a carafe have a way of turning into dinner without anyone deciding that was the plan.

The draft beer comes in a frosty goblet roughly the size of a young pumpkin, which tells you exactly what kind of place this is. Liuzza's by the Track is a barroom with a menu, the menu heavy on po' boys and Creole and Cajun stews that rotate as daily specials. The gumbo is a brothy shrimp version seasoned carefully enough that you probably won't reach for the hot sauce, though you will reach for that goblet.

Lux Central is a coffee shop, bakery, and bar that can't commit to one job, and the schedule makes that a feature. Pastries hold down the morning, the bar wakes up soon after, and the egg plates and hashes drift into diner-leaning fare as the day goes on. Plenty of people arrive for a quick latte and are still at the table when the cocktails show up, laptops open, no one embarrassed.

A custom oak door sets a quietly clandestine mood before the room opens into a flora-and-fauna mural that covers most of one wall. This is an upscale Mexican restaurant in Presidio Heights where the chef draws from her home state of Guerrero, running smoke, citrus, and heat through a Northern California filter. Sourdough tortillas, heirloom corn from Mexico, and cherry mole show up together on the same plate without any of it feeling forced.

Every customer gets a free cup of smoky, umami-packed seafood broth the moment they sit down, a small pour of the house Zombie soup and a good preview of why people come back. This San Jose mariscos spot runs three locations around town and does shrimp aguachiles in three colors, each shade marking a different chile. A chamoy-lined michelada handles the heat tax just fine.

A small Vietnamese soup shop on Hyde Street where the bowls arrive fragrant with star anise and lemongrass and the menu doesn't wander far from what it does well. The hủ tiếu nam vang, with its clear broth and shrimp fritter, is the kind of thing people describe to strangers, and the beef stew comes with a fluffy loaf of bread for soaking up the braise. Lunch for under fifteen dollars, served by someone who has clearly made these recipes a thousand times.

The unmarked door is the whole point. Tucked behind the sushi counter at the Venetian, this speakeasy bar keeps a low profile by design, with a full bar, ube espresso martinis, and snacks that skew sharper than the hand rolls out front. Convention-goers grabbing a boxed set to-go have no idea it's back there, which is more or less how the regulars prefer it.

A lunch counter tucked inside a Filipino grocery across from Pike Place Market, Oriental Mart runs on handwritten signs and a stainless steel aesthetic that hasn't changed in decades. The adobo and sinigang feel like exactly the kind of food that connects strangers, which is probably why the wifi password is "TALK TO EACH OTHER." Skip the fish throwers; eat here.

The courtyard alone explains why reservations disappear. Penny Roma is a casual Italian trattoria in the Mission from the Flour + Water team, with handmade pasta and a California instinct for what's in season at the farmers market this week. The room is dense with plants, the focaccia arrives puffed and fragrant, and the stuffed pasta tends toward the kind of richness that makes you forget you ordered a second glass of wine.

Doubles, the Trinidadian street snack of curried chickpeas on soft flatbread, landed in New Orleans largely because of this sunny Mid-City cafe. Chef-owner Lisa Nelson runs a compact menu of Trinbagonian cooking in a room that feels like it's been around forever. The fried fish on coco bread with plantains and hot sauce makes a strong case for the city's sandwich conversation. A neighborhood spot where you order at the counter and eat slowly.

Rare Society is a steakhouse off the Strip that skipped the cavernous Vegas format for a tight, loud, midcentury room with some Rat Pack swagger. It's close enough to spot the well-coiffed socialites and noisy enough that you won't hear their traffic complaints. The kitchen cooks over red oak and sends out a lazy Susan of wagyu, tri-tip, filet, and bone marrow, so bring a card with some headroom.

The marble-topped bar by the window is where regulars settle in for the long haul at this French bistro on California Street. The cooking leans California without making a fuss about it, rustic and careful in equal measure. Desserts come from B. Patisserie next door, which means skipping them would be a genuine act of self-sabotage. The Michelin Guide has it listed as a selected restaurant.

Sant Ambroeus runs the same reliable Milanese playbook it does in New York, the Hamptons, and Palm Beach, which tells you exactly who walks through the door. This sleek trattoria on Main Street does fritto misto, spaghetti al pomodoro, and black truffle pizza for a crowd that tends to know each other, or at least act like it. Long lunches are the format here. Il Baretto next door keeps aperitivo hour going indefinitely.

Counter-service pasta shop in Rockridge where everything on the menu costs less than a glass of wine at the place next door. You order at the register, grab a seat inside or out, and wait for housemade pasta that tracks the seasons, except for the spaghetti, which stays put year-round because nobody has complained. The Sfizio cocktail, amaro with tonic and lime, is a good reason not to order water.

The handmade dumplings and rope-thick noodles in sesame paste have kept this Northern Chinese restaurant an anchor of Oakland's Chinatown for what feels like forever. The room is utilitarian in the best sense: Lazy Susans, communal tables, and staff who will seat you next to strangers when the place fills up, which it does. Order something chewy and don't expect to spend much.

Soto is a Montrose sushi restaurant that made the trip down from Austin and seems to have unpacked for good. The menu leans on fire as much as fish, with salmon that gets a blowtorch and a sea bass left marinating for three days, which is more patience than most people give a sourdough starter. Happy hour is the easy way in, with a five-piece nigiri set for $20, and the Chronicle slots it near the top of the city's restaurants.

Red booths, dim lighting, and dry-aged beef in a Victorian building that somehow reads as a speakeasy for people who take their ribeyes seriously. This is a classic steakhouse with Aspen's wallet fully open: raw bar towers, truffle-topped cuts, lobster tail add-ons, and eight sauces that locals have opinions about. The potato pavés drowned in béarnaise have a nickname, which tells you everything. Reservations open 30 days out, and regulars treat that date like a stock drop.

Salt-and-pepper frogs' legs and claypot catfish steaks are the signal that this is not the Vietnamese restaurant where you order the same three things. Tan Dinh is a family-run sit-down spot on the West Bank, the heart of New Orleans's Vietnamese American community, and the menu goes well past crowd-pleasing pho into dishes that reward a little curiosity. Roasted quail shows up; so does banh mi. The room is unpretentious, the cooking is not.