The Best Places in the United States

Laotian noodle house on National Avenue, a stretch of Silver City where you can eat Thai, Mexican, and Puerto Rican within a few blocks and never double back. The menu runs from turmeric-spiced crepes and fried quail to beef soup with tripe and spicy larb, the kind of sinus-clearing food that manages to feel comforting anyway. Whatever you order, ask for the house "steak sauce," a funky, garlicky, chile-flecked condiment that regulars treat as non-negotiable.

Wooden lanterns and colorful cocktails set the tone at this upscale Chinese bistro inside the Sheraton, where the chef takes Cantonese as a starting point and then wanders pleasantly off-script. Surf-and-turf kung pao and lobster rangoon signal the playful agenda, though the Forbidden Roast Duck, a five-spiced bird with crackling skin served alongside monogrammed bao buns, is the dish the table will still be talking about on the way home.

Wepa Cafe started as a food cart parked at local breweries and has since grown into a multistory restaurant in Garden City with a rooftop patio, which is a fairly dramatic promotion for a cart. The menu is Puerto Rican, with mofongo and pastelón, a lasagne that swaps plantains for pasta. It's a casual, order-at-your-own-pace spot, and 5 percent of annual profits go to rebuilding homes in Puerto Rico. Eater lists it among Boise's 30 essential restaurants.

A suburban bistro in Rocky River that set out to be gorgeous, well-run, and priced for a Tuesday night, which is harder than it sounds. The seasonal menu moves between small plates and heartier mains, with cocktails priced to encourage a second round. The crowd skews neighborhood regulars who haven't had to sacrifice the room's good looks to keep the bill reasonable.

The ube daiquiri arrives in creative glassware with a garnish that's deliberately a bit much, which tells you everything about Wild Child's approach. This sunny cocktail bar in Shawnee leans into playful drinks, no-ABV options serious enough to fool a blind taster, and wines by the glass. Caramel booths and floral accents round out the mood. There's no back bar, so the menu is the whole story, and the street corn kakigori keeps the kitchen in on the fun.

The coolers at this Polish market and deli run long enough that you'll need a plan of attack. Homemade pierogi, stuffed cabbage, borscht, and bigos share space with fresh paczki and pillowy rolls, while the deli counter lays out sausages, salamis, and head cheeses in considerable depth. The pickled goods section is stocked as though someone read the room and assumed the worst. A family-run shop doing serious grocery work for Milwaukee's Polish community.

The front-of-house veteran behind this Cantonese-Sichuan brasserie grew up in his family's Chinese restaurants in Columbia, and XO reads like a fond memory made shareable. Dim sum, roast duck, and chow fun share the menu with chicken wings and caviar, which is either an identity crisis or a very good time. The cocktail list keeps pace with the food, and the crowd skews young and dressed for it.

Galbi tang arrives at the table still furiously steaming, the short rib broth deep enough to make a cold evening feel like a solved problem. Yigah is a casual Korean restaurant in Garden Grove where the portions trend generous and the menu runs from boiled pork belly with napa cabbage to sizzling hot-stone bibimbap. The room is unfussy, the lighting is not dim, and nobody is performing for anyone.

The name translates loosely to "one bite, one bite," which is either aspirational or a warning. This sunny yellow bakery in Kearny Mesa grew out of a home kitchen and now runs a glassed-in operation turning out mochi and chiffon cakes made fresh within 24 hours. The baker swaps jujube for sugar, so nothing lands too sweet. Mochi comes stuffed with taro, matcha, or mango; the cakes are featherlight with cream and fruit.

A black wall with the name spelled out in bold greets you at this casual Vietnamese restaurant on East Colonial, where the hanging lanterns and ceiling fans set a mood that's Southeast Asian without being a caricature of one. The cooking is focused and unshowy, the kind that earns a Michelin Bib Gourmand by quietly outrunning places twice its size. Pho, crispy crepes, and simple vegetable plates all arrive tasting like someone actually paid attention.

Zarletti was here before Milwaukee Street figured out it was fancy, and it's been quietly setting the standard ever since. This is a proper Italian restaurant, the kind where the pasta is house-made and the osso buco arrives without apology. The room runs warm and the service is polished without being precious, which is harder to pull off than it sounds in a neighborhood that now has valet parking.

Ironside is a nautical-kitsch seafood restaurant on India Street, with portholes on the walls, anchor hooks for your jacket, and garage doors that open when San Diego's weather does its one trick. The raw bar is the draw, including a platter built for eight to ten people that the menu calls something unprintable here. Weekday happy hour puts oysters at a dollar apiece, which makes 3 p.m. a surprisingly full house.

Knife-cut noodles in long-simmered chicken broth are the reason people keep coming back to this Koreatown noodle shop, which has been a fixture on Wilshire long enough to feel like part of the neighborhood's furniture. The kalguksu is chewy and restorative, the mandu arrive either boiled or fried, and on hot days the cold spicy jjolmyeon earns its keep. Bright lights, no fuss, and regulars who know the menu by heart.

The bayfront pool is ringed with lemon-yellow chaises where guests in bathrobes drift between a dip and the third-floor spa, moving at the precise pace of people who have nowhere to be. This Miami Beach hotel leans into the hammam, eucalyptus steam room, and garden hammocks with the conviction of a place that knows its guests are here to look serene while being seen. Pack your most performative beach read accordingly.

The slice window in the alley is how most people find Redeemer, though there's also a small dining room inside if you want to sit down with a 16-inch pie. The style lands somewhere between New York and sourdough, with a tang that makes the crust worth eating on its own. Toppings range from classic to surprisingly fussy, and the to-go window sells beer and wine alongside the slices.

A tiny, no-frills taqueria on the old Northside where the pricing seems to have missed the memo about LoHi. Five tacos come with guacamole and tomatillo salsa, and the fillings wander from fresh fish to browned bison to zucchini and mushroom. There are also tortas, tostadas, and Mexican hamburgers, which are basically burritos stuffed with a patty. Order at the counter and wear whatever you've got on.

The Elizabeth Taylor portrait in the lobby sets the tone: this is a hotel that takes its vintage glamour seriously without quite winking at you. A mid-century beachfront resort on Collins Avenue, Eden Roc draws on Morris Lapidus's sweeping architecture for rooms with oceanfront views, a sprawling spa, and poolside daybeds where frozen cocktails arrive at a civilized pace. The vibe skews polished rather than party-forward, which on South Beach counts as a genuine position.

A natural wine bar tucked into a downtown alley, Goodtime Bar is about the size of a large walk-in closet, which somehow only adds to the energy. The formula is simple: zippy, low-intervention pours and creative small plates that pull from all over, including a bucatini seasoned with Thai tom yum. The San Francisco Chronicle put it on their Top 100 Bay Area restaurants list, and the overflow crowd spilling out front on any given night suggests people got the memo.

The only Somali restaurant in the Bay Area sits in a circular building near a train station and has the easy, welcoming energy of a diner. The suqaar, chicken or beef stir-fried with peppers and the earthy Somali spice blend xawaash, arrives wrapped in flatbread or plated over rice, injera, or spaghetti. The San Francisco Chronicle puts it in the Bay Area Top 100.

The hand-built Neapolitan wood-fired oven is the centerpiece, and the pizzas coming out of it show why. Falora is a candlelit neighborhood pizza spot where the menu leans vegetable-forward, with toppings like butternut squash purée, roasted cauliflower, and white truffle oil over feta. House-made pasta and big salads round things out. The room is cozy in the way that actually means cozy, communal tables and all, and it draws a crowd that's clearly been here before.

Hand-stretched noodles tossed in chili oil are the move at this casual Chinese restaurant on North First, where the menu leans into Xian flavors: lamb with cumin, spicy lamb noodle soup, cold cucumber with garlic. The room is low-key and bright, with calligraphy on the walls and a vending machine of decorative figurines near the counter that nobody asked for but somehow fits perfectly.

A mural of Anthony Bourdain watches over the salsa bar at this colorful westside Mexican spot, which also happens to make a mole latte. The blackboard menu shifts constantly, running from mahi mahi tacos to vegan Cuban tacos, so there's rarely a reason to expect the same meal twice. Hikers coming down from Tumamoc Hill fill the room, still sandy from the trail, which tells you roughly what to wear.

Outdoor-only seating under a covered brick patio means you're eating in the Tucson sun no matter what, which somehow feels exactly right for a no-frills Mexican spot that's been feeding the neighborhood forever. Carne asada tacos, chile rellenos in tomato sauce, tamales, breakfast burritos, horchata from a big jar on the counter. The menu hasn't drifted toward trend, and the regulars at the picnic tables seem glad about that.

Racing memorabilia lines the exposed brick walls of this craft brewery, where the beer garden stretches out to fire pits, communal tables, and a corner that welcomes dogs. A rotating food truck or two parks out front, so you're not stuck choosing between a pint and dinner. The house IPAs lean citrusy and dry, and the blonde ale is the kind of thing you order when the Tucson heat starts winning.

A banh mi Benedict gives you a pretty clear read on where Nook's head is at. This downtown Tucson breakfast and brunch spot does New American riffs on morning classics, with local art on the walls and the kind of wooden-and-light interior that makes a 10am meal feel like a considered decision. The hanger steak and eggs with smoked chimichurri quietly upstages everything around it. Weekends fill up fast.

Hand-painted signage and coolers stocked with aguas frescas and Mexican sodas set the tone at this old-school Tucson taquería. The menu runs from breakfast burritos to chilaquiles to pozole available by the cup or, if things are going well, by the gallon. Vegetarians eat as well as anyone here, which is not always a given at a place this unapologetically no-frills. Bring cash and an appetite calibrated for generous portions.

The dining room walls look like marble, the ceiling traces a ring of light around wood paneling, and the menu runs about a dozen items. This Santa Clara Korean restaurant keeps its focus narrow: the main pull is seolleongtang, a milky, slow-cooked beef bone broth with oxtail and slippery rice noodles. Weekends pack the strip mall with families willing to wait thirty minutes for a bowl, which tells you most of what you need to know.

A J-shaped yellow bar and a handful of stools are the entire dining room at this takeout-only shack in San Rafael, and most people just grab their box and go. The menu changes constantly, sometimes the morning of, and things sell out. The chef pulls from various Asian cuisines and California seasonality, so one week it's pork in black vinegar caramel over rice, the next it's ceviche salad. Call ahead or arrive early, and arrive with no fixed idea of what you want.

The gougères come with a side of Comté fondue, because why not gild the lily twice. Barbouzard is a glitzy Southern French dining room from Cédric Maupillier, and it reads more Riviera than Washington, which is the whole point. The deconstructed bouillabaisse and plancha scallops in curry sauce show a chef having fun with the format. At lunch, the K Street crowd fills in around a brisk prix fixe that moves fast enough to make a noon reservation feel civilized.

The onion soup follows Julia Child's recipe and nobody has touched it, which tells you something about the kitchen's instincts. This casually elegant French bistro in Sterling plays with the classics just enough, turning tuna tartare into something that reads like steak, serving Brie crispy, while leaving the soul of the thing intact. The Washingtonian named that tartare one of their favorite DC-area dishes of the year.

The benne dosa here folds like a quesadilla rather than rolling into a cylinder, which tells you this is Bangalorean, not generic Indian. It's a casual dosa counter in a Herndon strip mall that somehow has the quiet confidence of a place that doesn't need to explain itself. The butter-lacquered exterior crisps up hard while the inside stays soft with masala potatoes and podi, a coarse spice mix that the Washingtonian named among its favorite dishes of the year.

A Japantown hotel where the lobby's 19-foot Douglas fir ceilings and open pipe shelving make the place feel more like a very well-curated living room than a hotel. The design splits the difference between Japanese and Scandinavian, which sounds like a thesis project but works. Rooms get dark gray walls hung with calligraphy and modern Japanese art, a clear step up from the obligatory Alcatraz watercolor. Cozy without being precious about it.

One of the few surviving pre-earthquake Queen Anne mansions in the city, this 12-room boutique hotel is more cabinet of curiosities than traditional lodging. Stained glass, intricate woodwork, Italian marble, and original Louis Icart paintings fill the common areas, and no two guest rooms are alike, some charmingly, some quirkily so. Condé Nast Traveler named it among San Francisco's best hotels.

Brass lighting and graphic fabric break up the white walls at this design-forward Mid-Market hotel, which is doing its best impression of a nearby SFMOMA annex. The 236 rooms lean minimalist, softened by wood surfaces and deep soaking tubs, with double-paned windows keeping the neighborhood's noise at bay. Higher floors pull in proper skyline views, and the minibar runs on local snacks rather than the usual sad peanuts.

A nomadic chalupa stand that bounces around northern Queens, posting intersections on Facebook like a food truck that's read too much Kerouac. Track it down and you're rewarded with tortillas fried in hot lard, then loaded with shredded pork, white onion, and whichever salsa you choose, or both. The New York Times named it among New York's top dishes of 2024 and ranked it on their 100 Best Restaurants list. Eight chalupas run about ten dollars.