The Best Places in the United States

A former gas station on the road to Waimea Bay, now a multi-roaster coffee shop where surfers and day-trippers fuel up before the beach. The cold brew concentrate is a house signature, and single-origin offerings lean heavily on Sweet Bloom out of Denver. Sourdough kolaches rotate with the seasons, and a macadamia nut latte squares the "we're in Hawaii" circle neatly. The whole operation started out of a 1966 Ford Econoline, which feels about right for Haleiwa.

A coffee shop inside a converted firehouse, which means the bones are right even before the espresso arrives. Tinker roasts its own beans and has built a quiet cult following across Indianapolis on the strength of what it calls Hoosier hospitality, a phrase that sounds like a bumper sticker until the staff actually pulls it off. Eight locations around the city, including a couple at the airport, all tracing back to a single used roaster and a good book about coffee.

The roasting happens right on the premises, so the warehouse near Kailua Town smells like a very good decision before you've even ordered. This is a coffee shop and roastery in one, with a rotating lineup of in-house coffees that runs from locally grown Hawaiian beans to more experimentally processed options. They also hold public classes if you want to understand what you're drinking rather than just drinking it.

A pour-over coffee shop tucked inside BoxJelly, a co-working and arts hub in Ward Village, where the rotating single-origin lineup has included Cup of Excellence and World Barista Competition coffees. The team archives every coffee they've ever served on their website, which is either obsessive or reassuring depending on your relationship with spreadsheets. Local bakers and chefs pop up regularly, so the counter scene shifts.

A roaster-first coffee shop with a direct line to specific farms in Honduras, Vivid sources with enough intention that the espresso rotates single-origin rather than hiding behind a house blend. The cafe is spacious enough that a laptop crowd shares the room with catch-up conversations without either feeling intruded upon. The affogato with local Shy Guy Gelato is one of those menu items that earns its place by being genuinely strange and good.

Each location gets its own interior, and the newest one near San Pedro Square Market prompted the owners to describe it as "Willy Wonka meets coffee," which is doing a lot of work but isn't wrong. This specialty coffee shop runs a destination-drink menu named after cities around the world, murals from local artists covering the walls, and enough design ambition that the mayor showed up to cut the ribbon. A chain, yes, but one that treats each outpost as its own thing.

Each drink on the menu is named for a city, and ordering feels a little like picking a destination. Voyager Craft Coffee is a specialty coffee shop with six locations around the Bay Area, each with its own interior design concept. The Cupertino outpost keeps things bright and considered, the kind of place where the latte art and the wall art get equal attention. Good for a slow pour-over or a signature drink you won't find at the usual chains.

Each drink on the menu is named for a city, and ordering feels a little like spinning a globe. Voyager Craft Coffee is a specialty coffee shop that started as a cart in a garage and grew into six locations, each designed as its own thing. The aesthetic runs toward murals, bold color, and what the team calls Willy Wonka meets coffee, which sounds like a joke until you're standing inside. Good for a slow pour-over or something more adventurous.

Each drink on the menu is named for a city, which sets the tone for this specialty coffee shop near San Pedro Square Market. The space leans hard into color and murals by local artists, described by the team as "Willy Wonka meets coffee," and it mostly earns the comparison. Voyager Craft has grown into a multi-location San Jose fixture, but each spot gets its own interior treatment rather than a copy-paste aesthetic.

Each drink on the menu is named for a city, Tokyo to Santiago, which tells you what kind of coffee shop this is before you've even ordered. Voyager Craft is a specialty cafe with six locations around San Jose, each with its own interior, though the Park Ave spot goes especially hard on color, murals by local artists, and what the founders describe as "Willy Wonka meets coffee." The vibe skews young and neighborhood-proud, and the pour-overs are taken seriously.

Deep-fried puri shells arrive golf-ball-size and hollow, packed with cool pimento cheese softened by sweet onion jam, and that alone explains why Tacoma's Grann has Seattle making the drive south. The restaurant calls itself Southern BBQ, Creole, and Indian fusion, but the food lands somewhere past hyphenation, like a cuisine that simply grew up that way. Dramatic green walls and a tiger photograph that somehow matches the room give the dining room real personality.

A self-serve dog-grooming station in the lobby tells you everything about this pet-friendly hotel near Kanab. The "best friends" in the name are canine, and the place operates as a proper animal sanctuary alongside the rooms, so you can bring your most chaotic dog without apology. The attached Mercantile handles coffee, breakfast, and snacks, all vegan, plus travel and pet supplies. Minimalist decor, no fuss, selected by the Michelin Guide.

Moonstone Beach Drive runs right along the Pacific here, and the Cambria Beach Lodge sits on it like a classic Highway 1 roadside motel that got a thoughtful refresh. Cambria itself occupies a quiet stretch of central coast between San Francisco and Los Angeles that most people drive through without stopping, which is more or less the point. The kind of place you find when you finally pull off.

Every room in this boutique hotel faces the Columbia River from a working pier, with container ships and the occasional sea lion drifting past while you soak in the tub. The brick exterior nods to the cannery it replaced, and the Finnish sauna nods to Astoria's fishing past. A vintage car shuttles guests downtown each evening, after wine and smoked salmon in the lounge, because some hotels don't make you go looking for the charm.

A sea captain's Federal-style house from the colonial era, updated into a boutique bed and breakfast that somehow manages to feel neither musty nor try-hard. Rooms spread across the main house, a Victorian addition, and an old carriage house, mixing period bones with contemporary fittings. The saltwater pool and terrace are genuinely pleasant, breakfast is included, and Commercial Street is a block away when the charm of the place wears off, which takes a while.

Named for the oak, Quercus sits on nearly 4,000 acres of Georgia forest, pasture, and river, a rural retreat where the dining program runs on a biodynamic garden and the distinction between inside and outside is more of a suggestion. Four cottage suites come furnished with botanical tones and antique heirlooms, porches and fireplaces doing most of the heavy lifting. Picnic lunches, refined dinners, the land is the point.

Stone tubs sit outside facing the mountains, and the firepits on each private patio do most of the entertaining after dark. RESET is a design-forward desert hotel on 180 acres near the north entrance of Joshua Tree National Park, with modular, earth-toned rooms stocked with pour-over coffee and not much else on purpose. There's a saltwater pool, sauna, and cold plunge for anyone who needs a reason to stay on the property.

White-on-white rooms hung with vintage maritime objects, a claw-foot tub at the foot of the bed in the Loft suite, and just enough distance from Commercial Street that you can actually sleep. This boutique inn in an old sea captain's neighborhood threads the needle between spare coastal chic and genuine B&B warmth, with private baths and good beds in every room. The smallest rooms are snug; book a king if you need breathing room.

Bright colors, graphic patterns, and mid-century furniture fill this Martha's Vineyard hotel designed around a grown-up summer camp fantasy, which fits: Oak Bluffs was a Methodist camp destination, and the hotel sits in Wesleyan Grove. Rooms are far more comfortable than any bunk you survived, and the suites are lavish. But most of the action happens in the lobby, lounge, game room, and veranda, just like camp, except the canteen serves actual snacks.

The kidney-shaped pool alone explains why someone brought a camera crew. The Springs Motel is a restored mid-century motor inn on Route 7 in the Berkshires, the kind of place that got a boutique makeover and then had that makeover filmed for TV. Cabins handle the larger groups, while the outdoor bar trailer and generous lawn keep everyone else occupied. It photographs well, and it holds up in person too.

Nina Freudenberger's Danish-modernist touch sits just across from Moonstone Beach, where the Central Coast fog rolls in and nobody particularly minds. White Water is a boutique hotel designed for people who drove up the 1 to disappear for a few days, not to post about it. The rooms are calm and considered, the kind of place that makes you remember why you packed a paperback.

A converted boarding house on Tilghman Island, the Wylder is a boutique hotel that does the Chesapeake Bay aesthetic without the usual kitsch, leaning on wood, brass, and rattan rather than lighthouse prints. Rooms come with Egyptian cotton and tablet concierge service, outside there's a saltwater pool and a private marina, and the hotel pairs guests with local charter captains. Maryland blue crab arrives via two on-site restaurants, one helmed by a longtime José Andrés collaborator.

The shihan ful arrives with two crusty sourdough rolls and no apology for the carbs. This Eritrean cafe in Oakland has been a neighborhood anchor for ages, the kind of spot where newcomers immediately feel like regulars. Fava beans, berbere, crumbled cheese, and a hit of lemon make that breakfast stew hard to skip, though the lunch tibsy, a spiced meat stew over injera, holds its own. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Top 100 Bay Area restaurants.

The salt-and-pepper chicken wings at this old-school Cantonese restaurant in Chinatown have a following that borders on devotional. Wok-tossed with garlic and jalapeño, the crunch when you bite in is audible across the room, which is either a party trick or a warning, depending on your table neighbors. The rest of the menu holds its own too, but the wings are why regulars come, and why they stay a little longer than planned.

A pint-sized deli on Telegraph where a fine-dining pedigree gets quietly redirected into sandwiches. The fried chicken, dusted in Sichuan peppercorns and Korean chile flakes, is the one that put this place on the map, but the sisig bolillo, fatty pork head in a crisp bubbly roll, makes a strong case for staying longer. The menu shifts with the season, so cold days bring hotter sandwiches. The San Francisco Chronicle put it at number 30 in the Bay Area.

A turquoise mariscos truck parked in a strip-mall lot, doing Mazatlán-style seafood with chiltepin chiles as the house religion. The chiltepin is tiny, round, and hits with a fast, focused heat that bypasses polite warning entirely. Everything is raw and marinated to order, so the aguachiles arrive electric with lime and pepper. Outdoor communal tables come stocked with tostadas and a crate of bottled hot sauces for anyone negotiating their limits.

The owner's pun says it all: Laredough, because the dough is the whole point. This Laredo pizzeria turns out thin, airy pies sized to your appetite, with toppings scaled up or down however you like. Pepperoni is the clear crowd favorite and comes in several versions. Calzones, salads, and pasta round out the menu for the table that can never agree. The chef also uses the platform for social causes, which at least gives the pizza some moral fiber alongside the cauliflower.

A pizzeria in Thiene that builds its menu around five distinct dough philosophies, from classic sourdough with local Vicentino wheat to a rice-flour base made for heavier toppings. The range runs from straightforward to quietly ambitious, with spelt, kamut, and soy options sitting alongside vegan variations and salads served on bread disks. Craft beers, local and imported, fill the drinks list. The kind of place that takes the dough more seriously than the decor.

The dough at this contemporary Messina pizzeria goes through a long fermentation that gives each base a noticeably different aroma from the standard Neapolitan crowd. The "Specials" menu is where the kitchen makes its argument, and the fried appetizers lean artisanal rather than afterthought. The wine list tilts local. Three r's in the name, which either signals confidence or a typo that stuck, and the room seems to lean toward the former.

The wood-fired oven is the centerpiece here, visible and working hard, the kind that gives a Neapolitan pizzeria its whole reason for existing. The dough is slow-leavened and properly soft, and the menu runs from certified traditional pies to more creative builds you put together yourself. Craft beers and Italian wines round things out, and the staff actually knows the menu. Roomy enough for families, quiet enough for a date night.

The wood-fired oven is the whole point here, turning out Neapolitan-leaning pies with a light, fragrant crust that somehow holds its own under toppings that range from a straight Margherita to bacon-and-shrimp combinations that nobody in Naples signed off on. It's a neighborhood pizzeria on West Alabama, cozy enough that regulars fill the room fast on weeknights. Salads, pasta, and desserts round things out. It's on the 50 Top Pizza USA list of Excellent Pizzerias.

A 40-seat lodge restaurant on the Yakima River where the chef, a serious fisherman, is back cooking every service after closing a small fleet of Seattle spots during the pandemic. The patio looks straight up at dusty cliffs dropping to the water, and seafood is the move despite the catch-and-release river out back. Fly-fishing art on the china, hush puppies on the menu, and a neighbor who runs guided casts next door.