The Best Places to Eat and Drink in the United States

A torta shop on the Peninsula with over 20 variations stacked into crusty telera bread, grilled until the crust is crosshatched and the inside is a soft collapse of queso fresco, refried beans, caramelized onion, avocado, and chipotle. The Cubana piles on breaded steak, ham, pork leg, chorizo, and turkey sausage, which is either excess or the point, depending on your appetite. Seating is sparse, so most people take theirs to go.

La Perlita is an Overlook coffee shop that treats the latte as a chance to bring in rosewater, cardamom, dulce de leche, and smoky chile pasilla. There's enough room to spread a laptop out, though the menu makes a strong case for abandoning your inbox. The mocha comes with chocolate and warm spices, and a concha under rainbow sprinkles sits next to it. The Infatuation put it on a list of Portland's best coffee shops.

A Mexican grocery and taqueria that has been making its own tortillas and masa since forever, La Tapatia is the kind of place where the carnitas come out of trays in the front and into your burrito in the back. The chile relleno burrito, built around a melty cheese-stuffed poblano, is the move. Everything is made in-house, it's takeout only, and the San Francisco Chronicle has called it one of the Bay Area's finest.

The Pink Lady, as La Jolla calls its landmark hotel, serves lunch in a pink-walled Mediterranean Room, on a terrace over the Pacific, or poolside, and the menu barely changes between them. Wagyu burgers and ahi poke nachos sit beside steak frites, so you can dress as casually as the ocean view allows. It's a resort lunch priced like one, and the palm trees are part of the cover charge.

La Ventana is a minimalist coffee shop in Eastern Market, pouring Intelligentsia espresso from a U-shaped bar built for long chats with the barista. Toddlers get elevated bleacher seating to climb around on, while laptop people claim the two-top tables and pretend not to notice. Pastries and breakfast burritos cover the snacking, and evenings often bring local artists or music, so the place keeps going after the caffeine does.

La Viña is a Cuban restaurant in Hialeah that looks like a grandparent's den, with wood paneling and sunwashed family photos watching you eat. Bring cash, because the card reader is a rumor. Bring an appetite too, since portions are built for leftovers, and the big bottle of vinegar and peppers on the table is meant for pouring on everything. The Infatuation ranks it among Miami's top restaurants.

A miniature wrestling ring doubles as the karaoke stage, which tells you everything about the Lariat Bar's priorities. This White Center dive is floor-to-ceiling WWE memorabilia with an actual craft cocktail menu, a combination that shouldn't work as well as it does. The nonalcoholic drinks are listed under "Kayfabe," a wrestling term for keeping the fiction alive, which is either the nerdiest menu label in Seattle or the most honest one.

Las Almas Rotas is a Dallas agave bar that stocks small-batch mezcal, bacanora, and raicilla instead of celebrity tequila, which means the flights can include pechuga mezcal, distilled with raw poultry, and bottles that fit no known category. It was a James Beard Outstanding Bar Program semifinalist. Margaritas and palomas let the spirits do the talking, and carne asada tacos and pozole rojo keep the evening from getting too educational.

Persian cooking is rare in San Francisco, and Lavash has been one of the city's few serious addresses for it. The kebab plates arrive piled over rice on wide sheets of flatbread, which is both a practical move and a slightly theatrical one. The tahdig, all crackle and crust, is the thing regulars come back for. Tables spill into a roofed parklet when the Sunset fog cooperates, which is optimistic but charming.

Le Central's neon sign above Bush Street has been announcing the cassoulet day count for what feels like forever, and the number is well into the five figures. This is an old-school French bistro, white tablecloths against exposed brick, curved booths, faux stained glass overhead. The cassoulet, duck and sausage and beans in a sauce that folds in a bit of the previous day's batch, is the reason regulars never open the menu.

A pink-and-purple French bakery in Potrero Hill where the canelés arrive with a deeply caramelized crust and a custardy, rum-scented interior. The menu rotates around French technique with a tropical detour: passion fruit, calamansi, coconut lavender. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's best bakeries, which feels obvious the moment the smell of vanilla and rum reaches you at the door.

Bruno Chemel ran one of the Peninsula's more ambitious tasting-menu restaurants for years; this is not that. Le Parc Bistrobar, tucked into a hotel near Union Square, is a French bistro and cocktail bar that leans classic, with oxtails braised in red wine until the meat nearly dissolves into the sauce. Christie Chemel's cocktail list runs deep on Chartreuse and Pineau des Charentes, which is either a selling point or a warning depending on your relationship with French liqueurs.

A live tank of crabs and fish greets you at the door of this spacious Cupertino dim sum hall, which hits peak chaos on weekends when families fill the room and steamer crates stack up fast. The taro puff shaped like a swan, stuffed with scallop-flavored taro, is the kind of thing that makes the table go quiet for a second. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's best for dim sum.

Lestat's On Park is a 24-hour coffee shop in University Heights, named for the Anne Rice vampire novels, which explains the fake chandeliers, the peeling wallpaper, and the giant corner couch that seems to have outlasted several decades of hairstyles. There's no air conditioning and the decor never left the '90s. The baristas run grumpy but know their espresso, and the sandwiches are there for 3 a.m. emergencies.

The Linebacker Lounge, known to everyone as "the Backer," is a South Bend college bar near campus where students and football fans dance to classic rock and pop hits and pay prices that feel like a clerical error. The kitchen is better than it needs to be, turning out barbecue burgers, a crispy chicken sandwich, and wings in sauces ranging from Caribbean jerk to vindaloo. Go for a postgame meal, or stay and see how late it gets.

Little Liberia is a Liberian sit-down restaurant on Detroit's east side, where the grill does most of the talking and the table fills up faster than anyone planned. Expect smoky shrimp, collards with bits of beef, a whole fried snapper, and cocktails that lean on tamarind and ginger. The room is quiet and gallery-like, with real art on the walls, so it suits a date for people who'd rather talk than watch a steak arrive.

This is a coffeehouse on El Cajon Boulevard that treats the couch as a shared resource, and you may end up splitting one with a stranger from another generation. SDSU students fill the hightops with open textbooks and gossip, and a wall of broken clocks has quietly given up on telling anyone when to leave. It's open until 11pm every night, with omelettes and paninis on the menu and a cool-weather patio.

A Southern bakery with a drive-through window, which in Hattiesburg feels less like a convenience and more like a statement of values. The team here turns out croissants, bagels, fruit pies, and sausage biscuits that the New York Times called out among its picks for standout U.S. bakeries. The place is the first bakery from Robert St. John, a local figure who has been feeding this corner of Mississippi for decades through restaurants, cookbooks, and TV.

Local is a steakhouse-leaning American restaurant on Cache Street where the napkins are white linen, a small act of rebellion in a town that mostly hands you paper. Local artists' paintings hang on the walls, and the kitchen sources from as close by as it can. The burger is a blend of three steak cuts, which feels right for Jackson, and the bar will happily serve you fries. The Infatuation put it on its list of the 15 best restaurants in Jackson Hole.

Longplay is a listening-room coffee shop, which means you hand over your laptop ambitions at the door and get a rule sheet in return. The pitch is vinyl on a serious sound system, cold brew, and drinks that dress up like cocktails, think yuzu highball and a fluffy black sesame mochi. Hours are short, weekends only, and posted on Instagram, so check before you go and plan to arrive before last call.

Lookout Tavern is a north Phoenix sports bar with something like 50 screens, so the real challenge is finding a wall that isn't showing a game. It's also the Steelers headquarters during football season, which means plenty of black and gold in the desert. Trivia, bingo, and UFC watch parties fill the calendar, and the weekend brunch involves shareable cocktails. Sliders and loaded fries cover the food side, and two patios handle the rest.

A beer hall in East Liberty built around 14-inch, wood-fired Neapolitan pies that were designed to be passed around a long communal table. The cacio e pepe pizza and the spicy pepperoni with house hot honey are regulars on the menu; weekly specials rotate through whatever's local and seasonal. Kölsch, Italian pilsners, and a Franconian pale smoke lager share the drinks list with wine and amaro flights, which should tell you something about the crowd's ambitions.

Everything cooks over open white-oak fires behind a tattered ranch house on Johns Island, sailcloth and outdoor chandeliers overhead, the smoke visible from the road. The chef grew up in North Georgia and knows his Lowcountry, so collards and roasted clams show up alongside chimichurri and tamarind. The New York Times put it on their 2024 Restaurant List. Arrive hungry enough for the charred semolina sourdough that lands first, and don't skip the carrots.

A former Marine and a former basketball player walked into an empty storefront in the historic Greenwood District, and the result is a wing shop where the attorney co-owner still keeps his day job. The Oklahoma Dry Rub and the Mack, a recipe nobody's sharing, are the regulars' picks. Kimberly usually runs the counter herself, which gives the whole operation a family-kitchen feel that's hard to fake.

Madi is a bright, casual daytime spot on Grand Avenue that treats lunch as a bonus round and shuts the kitchen at 2 p.m. The menu runs on playful California cooking, which here means a half-pound patty melt on grilled sourdough and a chipotle chicken melt with pickled jalapeños. Expect counter-service prices, no dress code, and a brunch crowd lingering over the last of their coffee.

Atlanta takes its lemon pepper wings seriously, and Magic City, the city's most famous strip club, has been quietly central to that argument for decades. The wings are small, seasoned deep into the bone, and come with a blue cheese dressing good enough to make you mourn the missing celery. The crowd runs from music executives to athletes to travelers killing time before a flight. Wings are available to go, for the bashful or the principled.

Magissa is a bright, easygoing Greek taverna in East Bayside, a neighborhood with more breweries than seems strictly necessary. Dinner runs on meze like htipiti and skordalia, scooped up with warm pita, plus grilled lamb and an ouzo cake for dessert. The drinks list leans into mastiha, sumac lemonade, and a local bitters people in Portland talk about like a sports team. Eater has it on its list of the city's best.

Kevin Lee, a Food Network regular, named this Uptown Oklahoma City steakhouse and seafood restaurant after the Korean word for flavor, which is either confident or on the nose, depending on how the scallion pancake lands for you. The menu builds on Lee's earlier steakhouse work, folding in premium seafood, Korean sauces and sides, and a craft cocktail list in a space he describes as the restaurant he always wanted to open.

Mama Bread is a neighborhood bakery and cafe with a pastry case that has people lining up around 8am, a full two hours before the loaves come out of the oven. Morning buns, croissant breakfast sandwiches, and flaky things stuffed with squash and ricotta are the reason to be in that line. There's a tiny market inside, so you can leave with jam and a mild sense of having your life together.

Manny's is a downtown South Bend sports bar where the televisions outnumber the available sightlines, so you will never be forced to miss a game. The menu plays with bar food, including a burger piled with fried jalapeño strips and avocado, and a Girl Dinner of fries and salad in an oversized Martini glass. A food truck parked out front sends out empanadas. Eater lists it among South Bend's best restaurants.

A French bakery on West Charleston where the croissants and chausson aux pommes share the case with a full Dubai chocolate section, because the pistachio-and-kataifi craze has to land somewhere. Pain au chocolat is the old-guard order, and the team runs savory croissant and quiche specials through the week. It's a pastry-case-and-pay-at-the-counter kind of place, so come as you are and leave with a box.

Marrow is a sit-down restaurant and deli in a former poultry processing plant in Eastern Market, which means the building has gone from plucking chickens to serving whole-animal butchery with a cocktail list. Two moody bars fill with shoppers still holding their grocery haul and locals who dress up a little for a Tuesday. Brunch is where the whipped bone marrow gets spread on pancakes, because restraint was never the point.

Marta is a neighborhood coffee shop planted where University Heights, Normal Heights, and North Park meet, which means it never has to pick a side. The mexican mocha latte arrives in a handmade clay mug, and the menu runs to Mexican-American fusion, like salmon al pastor on blue corn sourdough. Laptop people and book people share the room, and the macha salsa is the sort of thing you'll want to smuggle home in your tote bag.

Martha My Dear is a neighborhood cocktail bar on Gallatin Ave, in a space that spent a short, theatrical stretch as a WWII-themed Euro bar before closing without much mourning. The new owners kept some of the Old World bones and swapped the concept for something calmer, with drinks built by a bartender who came up through Attaboy. It's casual and low-key, with cocktails that take their job seriously and nothing else around them does.

Whole hog barbecue is the organizing principle here, which means every part of the pig goes into the pit and comes out smoked, pulled, and chopped together. It's a proper Tennessee barbecue joint, loud and casual, the kind of place where the smoke follows you home. The New York Times put it on their Nashville list, and the brisket and jalapeño cheddar sausage give the pork plenty of company.