The Best Places in the United States

The cinnamon rolls are vegan, which almost feels like a dare. This Madison Valley vegetarian restaurant has been the city's plant-based anchor for what feels like forever, drawing brunch crowds for veg scrambles and rosemary biscuits drowned in savory gravy alongside dinner plates that tend to quiet the table no matter who ordered the steak down the street. A plant-filled atrium and a year-round patio make the room easy to linger in.

Chefs eating on their days off tend to be a reliable signal, and on Mondays and Tuesdays the counter at this compact Vietnamese restaurant on Passyunk fills with exactly that crowd. The kitchen is built around fragrant pho and bún bò Huế, the spicy lemongrass soup from the owner's hometown of Huế. Her son now runs the room alongside her, and his chicken wings have quietly become a reason to visit on their own.

Flattop smoke hits you before you find a seat at this narrow Walker's Point bar, where the beer list is serious and the food is unabashedly Wisconsin. Nashville chicken, rotating pierogies, and wings with more sauce options than you need anchor a menu of pub grub that's been fussed over just enough. The burger, a sloppy, oniony, American cheese situation on brioche, is the kind of thing you think about on the drive home.

Campana is an Italian restaurant that started as a pop-up inside a tavern and kept going until it owned the building, which is the most Portland way to get a dining room. The chef's New York kitchen years show up in the meatballs and the clam-sauce linguine, and the gelato is good enough that other Italian spots around town have quietly started serving it. It made Portland Monthly's list of the 50 best restaurants.

A white lonchera that parks outside a tire shop on Sundays, selling exactly four cuts of carnitas by the taco or the pound. The chef started making his hometown Michoacán recipe because he missed it, which is the best possible origin story for a food truck. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the best tacos in the Bay Area. Ask for a little cuero folded in and you'll understand why regulars circle the block.

Castnet is a casual seafood counter in New Orleans East, where the fried shrimp po'boy comes dressed on Leidenheimer bread and the sausage version is made with Patton's. There's also boiled seafood, gumbo, and plate lunches for anyone with a different plan. A snowball stand sits on one side and a barbecue joint on the other, so the parking lot doubles as a very low-stakes tasting menu. The Infatuation lists it among the city's best.

The tangerine walls and shelves stocked with tinned fish, art mags, and turntables tell you this isn't your average pizza shop before you've even ordered. The owner came up through visual merchandising and a stint at Roberta's, and it shows. Wood-fired Neapolitan-ish pies come with combinations that take a beat to process, in a good way. Ohio City's more design-conscious crowd has figured this out, naturally.

The Kill-Bill Pork Tenderloin, a sandwich stacked with crispy tenderloin, ham, bacon, cheese, and a fried egg, tells you everything about the ambition level here. Centro is a lively Italian restaurant that's been around forever in downtown Des Moines, serving lunch and dinner to a neighborhood it arguably helped create. Pizzas, pastas, and a grilled pork chop with Chianti demi-glace round out a menu that doesn't take itself too seriously but knows what it's doing.

Ceremony is a tea-focused cafe near Brown that also pours cocktails and natural wine, which is a lot of hats for one counter. The signature move is a reserved tea ceremony led by an apprentice, a quiet tasting that doubles as an exit from the Thayer Street scrum. Walk-ins can order an iced strawberry matcha latte with a giant gummy bear in it, then fight a student for a table.

The spice level in a given dish can change day to day depending on which batch of Thai chilies came in, and they'll tell you that upfront. This casual Thai restaurant on 900 South regularly has a line out the door, drawn by tom yum, som tum, and curries built on serious heat. The mango with Thai custard and sticky rice is there for anyone whose mouth needs a diplomatic exit.

Chapter IV is a modern Creole restaurant from the family behind Dooky Chase, which means the gumbo arrives with a dark roux and a full cast of sausage, shrimp, chicken, and crab. The menu is long enough to stall a first-timer, though the squid ink linguine is a good place to start. Dress like you might run into someone, because by all accounts your ex, your old coworker, and half your high school class are already inside.

The "clam" dip is made from tofu, the fried fish contains no fish, and somehow none of that feels like a compromise. This vegetarian Vietnamese restaurant in Falls Church is where the chef makes her own faux meats and seafoods from scratch, turning lemongrass noodle soup and papaya salad into fully convincing arguments that the meat was never the point. Devout carnivores tend to figure this out about halfway through the meal.

A cheese bar and small-plates spot on Ingersoll Avenue where the main event is a massive charcuterie board piled with Iowa cheeses and cured meats. The team also does fondue, raclette, grilled cheese with roasted tomato bisque, and a cast-iron skillet mac, so the menu is essentially every dairy dream you've had in one room. Wine, beer, and cocktails round things out. It's the kind of place where you go for a snack and leave having eaten a full meal you didn't plan on.

Closed-circuit Burmese musicals play overhead while you eat, which sets the tone at this no-frills Southport restaurant attached to a Southeast Asian supermarket. The menu leans into the flavors of Myanmar, running through tea leaf salad, Burmese-style samosas, and a hominy soup built around beef offal. The community that built this place, Indianapolis's Chin and broader Burmese diaspora, still fills it, and the food reflects that.

This is an old-school Chinatown bakery on Wentworth where the pastry case does all the talking and the register takes only cash, so bring some. The baked BBQ pork buns are soft and fluffy, the sesame balls and egg tarts are the other usual suspects, and the egg tart crust flakes enough that you should check a mirror before rejoining society. Everything is made fresh daily, and a few dollars buys a bag.

The patio is strung up to feel like a beachside cabana, and on a warm Mission afternoon that illusion mostly holds. Chuy's is a mariscos spot with a burrito worth ordering, specifically the flattop version where the tortilla gets pressed and crisped on the griddle. A frosty mug or a michelada fits the mood exactly. Seats outside go fast at peak hours, so arriving early isn't overthinking it.

Hand-pressed tortillas made with nixtamalized heirloom corn anchor the menu at this contemporary Mexican restaurant in Takoma Park, where vegan-friendly cooking doesn't mean compromising on ambition. Tres moles fill the enchiladas, cashew cheese goes into the quesadillas, and the bar runs inventive mezcal and rum cocktails alongside margaritas. Brunch draws a crowd too. The team recently moved into sleeker new digs up Carroll Ave, and the upgrade shows.

Leather-bound books line the shelves, curious antiquities fill the corners, and the cocktail menu arrives as a hand-illustrated booklet, which is either delightful or a lot depending on your mood. This vegan cocktail bar in Cleveland's west side pairs its seasonal drinks with bar snacks and full plates, all plant-based, running from masa hushpuppies to artichoke "crab" cakes. A good place to linger over something clever in a glass.

Club Frills is a cocktail bar dressed as a 70s basement, with fake wood paneling, a disco ball, and tabletops that are marble only in spirit. It wears the dive costume without the sticky floors or the low prices. The drinks run low-ABV and funky, often in colors not found in nature, and the kitchen turns out a burger built around diced olives. It was a James Beard semifinalist for Outstanding Professional in Cocktail Service.

A southside corner bar where the game is always on and the regulars have claimed their stools for life. The tiny flattop behind the bar turns out chicken wings done the Milwaukee way: fried, sauced, then grilled, so you get char and caramelization and a vinegar bite all at once. It's a rougher room than the Bay View scene around it, which is exactly the point.

A seafood raw bar, a caviar cart stocked with Thomas Keller's Regiis Ova, and a steakhouse menu beneath contemporary chandeliers overlooking Bicentennial Unity Plaza: Commission Row is a special-occasion kind of place where everything is just slightly orchestrated. The martini list alone suggests the clientele arrives in blazers on purpose. The chef came up through Cunningham Restaurant Group, and the room reflects that pedigree, polished without being cold.

Community Loaves is a neighborhood bakery and cafe in Murray Hill, run out of a space with creaky hardwood floors and the steady smell of sourdough. Inside seating is limited, so most people end up at the garden tables, where the local cats make their rounds like unpaid hosts. It's a low-key counter-service stop, and the egg sandwich takes honey mustard and pickles if you ask.

Congaree And Penn is a working farm about twelve miles outside Downtown that happens to have a restaurant and a cidery attached, so you may meet a goat before you meet your server. By day it's picnic lunches and U-Pick. After dark it goes adults-only and turns into a proper Southern dinner of duck legs and short ribs, with small-batch cider on tap and a private table out in the grapevines for groups.

A specialty goods shop and sandwich counter in downtown Napa where the house-cured meats do the heavy lifting. The biscuits are a reason to come on their own, crunchy outside and cloud-soft inside, and the country ham and jam version with pimento cheese makes a strong case for eating before noon. Frozen four-packs of biscuits are available to go, for those with the self-awareness to plan ahead.

A fresh pasta shop and lunch counter that quietly changed hands and then quietly changed direction, Corridor now pulls from the wider Mediterranean rather than just Italy. The vegetable-forward midday menu shifts with the seasons, with poultry and seafood making occasional appearances. The market side still stocks house-made pastas, olive oils, and charcuterie for the take-home crowd.

A dessert shop where black sesame Oreo cake and milk bread cinnamon rolls make the case that bakery menus have been missing something for a long time. The chef bought the place after years in recipe development and steered it toward pan-Asian flavors the Des Moines scene had largely overlooked. Friday and Saturday nights flip into Midnight Munchies, with cocktails, '90s music, and customizable Cup Noodles alongside rotating cakes and cheesecakes.

Chickens turning on a spit behind glass, focaccia stacked high, and a counter so narrow that most people take their order to the curb: this is a counter service porchetta shop with Italian instincts and Charleston pork. Everything lands on housemade focaccia, from spiced salmon with whipped ricotta at breakfast to the classic porchetta with crackling, salsa verde, and provolone. A standing bar exists, technically, but the line moves and so do you.

The cracked-laminate menus at this Vietnamese restaurant in a Phoenix strip mall are entirely on purpose. Fourteen kinds of pho anchor the menu, portions are generous enough to require a to-go container, and the hot coffee with sweetened condensed milk is a good reason to linger. Prices hover around $15, the room is multi-roomed and no-frills, and the com tam dac biet piles broken rice with what feels like the entire menu on one plate.

The seeded rye bread is baked on-site, and the corned beef and pastrami get piled onto it over the counter, no table service involved. Davis Bakery is an old-school Jewish deli that has been around forever in Cleveland, still family-owned, still efficient in the way that only counter-service places can be. In a country where Jewish delis keep quietly disappearing, this one draws a line out the door without seeming to notice the trend.

Deanie's on Hayne is a casual, family-run seafood house out in the Lakeview-adjacent stretch, far from any Bourbon Street souvenir shop with a daiquiri machine. The platters arrive heaped with fried shrimp, catfish, stuffed crab, and oyster patties, and they're built for sharing, though nobody will fault you for not. The daily specials run around twenty dollars. On Thursdays, the original owner, Maw Maw Deanie, sometimes stops by your table to chat.

Halal butcher shop by day, charcoal grill operation by the afternoon, Dearborn Meat Market has been doing both long enough that the regulars don't bother with the menu. The move is a tray of kabobs or kafta, roasted over charcoal in the back, with hummus and pita alongside. It's a narrow, welcoming room in the heart of Dearborn's Lebanese corridor, and few places in the area do lamb this well.

Debbie's is a small downtown hot dog counter where the weiners get the kind of toppings you'd expect on a plate with a tasting menu, like creamy leeks, dijon, dill, and a crunch of Potato Stix. The chef came over from a late, lamented barbecue joint, which explains the sandwiches and sides. There are a couple of outdoor seats for people watching, or you can carry your dogs to the river and eat them like a civilized person.

Chaat done properly is tactile work, and this sunny Sunnyvale spot leans into that, handing you puffy bhatura to mop up simmered chickpeas or letting you crack open semolina puri with your fingertips before filling them with tamarind water. It grew out of a popular food truck, and the families who used to find it in parking lots now get a plant-filled patio instead. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's best South Asian restaurants.

Den Den is a casual Korean cafe on Benefit Street, the kind of place where you order too much and nobody at the table objects. The menu runs from kimchi pancakes to bibimbap to soft tofu stew, plus a chicken karaage that has been known to make first dates feel promising. The brick dining room is cozy, and the RISD students drifting in and out make it feel like the neighborhood's unofficial canteen. It's an easy yes for parents on family weekend.

The injera arrives as the plate, not a side, and the whole table leans in to tear pieces and scoop from communal piles of stew and spiced meat. This Briarcliff Road neighborhood restaurant has been an Atlanta Ethiopian staple for ages, run by two partners who grew up in Ethiopia and cook like it. The meat platter is sized for sharing among several people and covers serious ground. There's also a full vegan menu, Ethiopian tea, and Ethiopian beer.

Dino's is an East Nashville dive that has been feeding the after-hours crowd since the 1970s, mostly with gooey cheeseburgers meant to talk a hangover out of existing. You can sit at a diner table in the dim main room or out on the covered patio, and the punk rock restroom is considered part of the visit. The bar pours Coors, Shiner Bock, and mezcal, Campari, even Malort, and the line peaks right after the bars close.

Dockside is a counter-service seafood joint wedged beside the Jax Beach boat ramp, where you order at the window, eat with plastic forks, and wash it down with cheap bottled beer. Locals come for catches that were recently somewhere else, in combo baskets of shrimp, scallops, or crab cakes, blackened, grilled, or fried. The screened-in patio is the move, mostly because the seagulls out there have notions about your lunch.

The pistachio-green wood-fired oven is the first thing you see, which tells you exactly where the evening is going. Dolomiti is a pizzeria and wine bar that anchors Millwork Commons, a warehouse district that recently decided it wanted nice things. Sourdough-crust pies come out blistered and a little smoky, and the mortadella panino, made from the same dough folded around house-made ricotta and pesto, keeps showing up in people's orders a second time.

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.

Dune Brothers is a counter-service seafood shack in downtown Providence, which is a funny thing to say about a state where nobody is more than a few miles from water. You order at the window, then carry your fried fish and clam cakes across a shell-strewn patio to a picnic table. The Jonah crab roll rotates in as a special, and a cold Narragansett or a local Yacht Club soda goes with it. Dress for a quick lunch.

A pair of food trucks running Tijuana-style tacos around San Jose, with a charcoal grill and a spinning trompo on weekends that explains the line before you even smell the smoke. The chicharron fundido, a giant handmade corn tortilla loaded with crackly pork belly and melted cheese, is the kind of thing that makes "just a quick taco" a laughable plan. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the best tacos in the Bay Area.