The Best Places to Eat and Drink in the United States

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.

The brisket here is done in the Texas Hill Country style, low and slow until the bark sets and the fat renders into something close to silk. Edge Craft is a barbecue joint just west of downtown Oklahoma City, with a menu built around the expected canon plus daily specials that tend toward the inspired. The sides list runs longer than most spots bother with, collard greens and smoked elote alongside the usual coleslaw. Come hungry and plan to deliberate.

Egg & I is a sit-down diner on West Sahara, the sort of breakfast spot you've seen on television, where someone always clutches a coffee mug and the forks clatter on cue. A model train circles the ceiling while you eat, which keeps the adults as entertained as the kids. Eggs are the point, especially the chile relleno omelet, and the banana nut muffin earns its spot on the plate in place of toast. Eater lists it among Las Vegas's best breakfast restaurants.

Cloud-shaped overhead lights hang above white subway tile and diner tables at this compact coffee shop on S St Mary's. Eight Ball grew out of a food truck and kept the no-fuss sensibility: cortados, lattes, espressos, and matchas, all built on beans from Creature Coffee. It's the kind of place that makes a midday iced coffee feel like a considered decision rather than a desperate one.

A coffee shop and bar on North Williams where the mocktail menu gets as much attention as the espresso. Heart coffee comes in every format you'd expect, and the food leans into a shiitake sausage breakfast sandwich that earns its regulars. The Biggie Salty, a nonalcoholic Kahlua-style drink finished with cinnamon chocolate coffee salt, is the kind of thing that sounds like a joke until you order it twice.

El Pescador is a working fish market in La Jolla that also happens to cook lunch, so you can order grilled fish at the counter and then eye the display case for tonight's dinner. Regulars treat it like a weekly errand, which is a reasonable way to live near the ocean. The fish goes between bread, onto a plate with rice, or into poke and chowder, all of it casual, fast, and easy on the wallet.

The wet burrito arrives plate-sized, drowned in enchilada sauce, and piled with cheese, sour cream, and guacamole, which tells you almost everything about El Rio Verde. It's a divey neighborhood Mexican spot where the staff has been around forever and Tulsans tend to bump into a neighbor before they've ordered. The menu runs from fajita omelets at breakfast all the way to fish soup at dinner, but most people are here for that burrito.

The meat-and-three is Nashville's quieter religion, and this old-school soda shop on Elliston Place is one of its oldest temples. Red leather booths, a soda counter, fried chicken, whipped potatoes, turnip greens, and pies that have had the same baker for over thirty years. The milkshakes and banana splits bring in a different kind of regular. The New York Times named it among Nashville's 25 best restaurants.

Finish 30 of the bar's 100-plus tequilas and you earn a plaque on the wall, which tells you a lot about the spirit of this colorful downtown Mexican restaurant. The puffy tacos pull regulars back, and the kitchen keeps vegetarians genuinely in the mix rather than as an afterthought. Drag brunch and lucha libre nights fill the calendar between the serious sustainable sourcing. A neighborhood place that takes its fun as seriously as its food.

Near Lake Merritt, Enssaro is a roomy Ethiopian restaurant that covers the full range, from slow-cooked lamb in berbere and ghee to kitfo rolls that wrap spiced beef tartar inside spirals of injera. The menu is mostly traditional, but it takes the occasional contemporary detour, Ethiopian nachos among them. A spiced, sweetened tea, hot or iced, is the move if the heat builds up.

Ernie's Boondock is a dive bar tucked below Up-Down in East Nashville, and it commits to the role with pool tables, dollar bills stuck to the walls, and a chain of Underberg hanging by the register. There's no cocktail menu, so order a gin and tonic or a tequila shot and accept the taxidermy's silent verdict from the red leather booths. Someone will mangle "Benny And The Jets" nearby, and you may join in.

Duck confit on a ginger waffle, finished with a sunny-side-up duck egg, is the kind of thing that makes you reconsider every breakfast you've eaten before it. This is a breakfast shop that treats classics as a starting point rather than a destination, stacking French toast with blueberry Danish flavors and running Benedicts in half a dozen directions. The daily specials are always worth asking about, and the room fills early.

A Houston brewery that takes its beer names as seriously as its beer, with year-round taps like Buckle Bunny (a cream ale) and a rotating Limited Awesome Beer Series that lives up to the acronym. The indoor space is cavernous enough to actually beat the heat, which in this city is less a perk than a survival strategy. When the weather cooperates, the outdoor area fills fast with the kind of crowd that stays for three rounds and means it.

Shrimp and grits on a menu that also swings through duck and quail in the colder months signals a kitchen that takes its eclecticism seriously. Evangeline's is a dressed-up dinner spot in Tuscaloosa Galleria that has been the default venue for every graduation, anniversary, and retirement dinner in the county for what feels like generations. The cocktails and the crème brûlée both get mentioned in the same breath, which tells you something about the priorities here.

Staff pull fresh noodles behind a glass window in full view of the dining room, which tells you most of what you need to know about this Squirrel Hill noodle shop. The rest of the neighborhood already knows it, so expect a wait. Hot spicy wontons buried in cilantro and scallions are the move, but regulars tend to circle back for the soup dumplings, the classic pork especially.

Fad Classic Bakery sits in Smyrna beside a loud blue building that does its best to upstage it. The bakery is a quiet counter-service spot, cheap and unfussy, with cinnamon rolls that stay soft without going gummy under a generous slab of cream cheese icing. Weekends bring Nutella, Oreo, and strawberry versions, which also means they sell out early, so the alarm clock is part of the plan. The Infatuation lists it among Atlanta's best bakeries.

The red-drenched dining room and prix fixe menu of "Asian Italian" dishes at this East Nashville spot signal that something genuinely odd is happening here, in the best way. A trio of industry vets serves garlic noodles from a vintage lunchbox and caviar over French onion dip, then hands out red-checked bibs when the gochujang short ribs arrive. The bit never quite tips into exhausting, and the New York Times named it among Nashville's top restaurants.

The restaurant sits on an actual working farm in Los Ranchos, which keeps the farm-to-table premise from being purely decorative. Farm & Table is a new American dinner spot where the sourcing is local in practice, not just on the menu header. The kitchen has launched several notable careers over the years, and owner Cherie Montoya has brought alumni back for guest appearances. Expect a relaxed, pastoral room with food that earns its provenance quietly.

The steamed taro buns here are shaped like little pigs, which tells you something about the mood. This is a neighborhood dim sum house in the outer Richmond where the har gow are fat with filling and the siu mai are delicate enough to make you forget the trek out Balboa. The menu stretches well past brunch into roast squab and clay pot brisket, and the prices run noticeably gentler than downtown.

A wood-fired grill dominates the center of this gastropub on Broad Street, close enough to the bar and high-tops that you can watch steaks and avocados take on char while you drink a Pennsylvania pint. The kitchen leans hard into smoke and fire across the menu, wings included. It reads like a neighborhood spot that actually feeds the neighborhood, rather than one performing the idea of it.

Five Bar keeps its dinner and brunch menus to exactly five entrees each, which sounds like a gimmick until you're actually sitting with fried Gulf shrimp in a downtown room full of exposed brick and local art. Half coffee shop, half full-bar restaurant, it runs happy hours, wine Wednesdays, and a weekend jazz brunch with a build-your-own bloody Mary bar. The kind of place that makes a short menu feel like confidence rather than laziness.