The Best Places to Eat and Stay in the United States

The Stil is an ice cream shop whose name stands for Sweetest Things in Life, which is a lot of pressure to put on a scoop. The flavors run to churro and lavender with berries, and some come spiked with booze. You can build an ice cream sandwich, an affogato, or a beer or wine float, or go for a flight if you can't commit. Dairy-free and vegan options are on hand, so nobody gets left holding a napkin.

A sausage bar where the cocktails come on draft and the burger is made with a Velveeta-sauced sausage patty, which tells you everything about the philosophy here. The Vanguard is a laid-back Milwaukee watering hole built around an uncommonly serious sausage program, brats and poutine and fried curds all sharing the menu with Midwestern beers and house cocktails. The crowd is here to eat well without taking any of it too seriously, which is a harder trick than it looks.

Around 500 whiskey labels line the shelves at this low-key east side lounge, with bottles coming in from Japan, Scotland, Ireland, Canada, and well beyond Kentucky. The Novaks built the place around a near-singular devotion to amber spirits, but there are wines and cocktails for anyone who just tagged along. Small plates and live jazz on weekends keep things from feeling too reverent about the whole thing.

The Wylder is a downtown Boise pizza-and-cocktails spot built around a sourdough starter that's been alive for over fifty years, which makes it older than most of the staff and possibly the building's plumbing. The pies run from a white one with spicy honey to a red one with pickled chiles, and there are nightly suppers like fried chicken and a lasagna the owners won't give up the recipe for. Eater counts it among Boise's essentials.

Third Space is a brewery and taproom in the Menomonee Valley, parked alongside a river and a set of train tracks in a way that feels more discovered than designed. The indoor-outdoor space fills up with live music and food trucks on good nights, and their hoppy, hazy ales show up on taps all over Milwaukee. Happy Place, the sessionable flagship, is the one you'll see everywhere and order without looking at the menu.

A pour-your-own beer wall sets the tone at this food hall carved out of a former downtown mall. Peruvian chicken, arepas, pho, ramen, tortas, and pizza share the floor with cornhole and shuffleboard, so the crowd skews toward groups who can't agree on dinner, which turns out to be a fine reason to visit. Dairyland anchors the whole thing with cheese curds, frozen custard, and an old-fashioned burger that needs no introduction.

A cocktail bar that operates out of an actual tiny house in Little Bohemia, with a patio in summer and a heated outdoor igloo when Omaha decides to be Omaha. The drinks lean playfully political, the comedy nights and drag performances keep the calendar full, and the crowd tends to arrive with opinions about both. It's the kind of neighborhood bar that takes its cocktails seriously without taking itself too seriously.

Filipino comfort food in a Cleveland area that doesn't have much of it. Tita Flora's is a sit-down restaurant in Independence filling a real gap, and the menu stays traditional: lumpia fried crisp, pork adobo deep with soy and garlic, sisig arriving on a sizzling platter, pancit noodles with your choice of protein. Halo-halo closes things out, a shaved-ice dessert piled with ice cream, evaporated milk, and assorted toppings that takes a while to work through.

Toro Toro is a Pan-Latin steakhouse inside the Downtown Four Seasons, where the meat shows up on a cart and gets finished at your table, as if the steak needed an entrance. Richard Sandoval's menu also runs a ceviche and sushi bar, so the table can split between the cow people and the fish people without a fight. Expect hotel-dining prices and a room dressed for business dinners and anniversaries.

Track 15 is a food hall inside Union Station that squeezes seven local restaurants under one roof, so a group that can't agree on dinner gets to stop pretending. Order at the counters, cafeteria-style, then carry your tray to low-lit seating and a full bar of Rhode Island beer and booze. Indian, Turkish kebabs, burgers, and square Roman pizza are all on the table. In winter, the fried fish sandwich stands in for the beach.

House-baked rolls are the foundation here, which tells you a lot about how seriously this Italian quick-serve sandwich shop takes a chicken parm. The chef behind Lox, Stock, and Brisket kept the same formula, a tight menu done with real care, this time nodding to his grandparents' Sicilian hometown. Thick sheet-pan pepperoni pizza sits ready to go, and pasta comes with sausage or meatballs. Fast, focused, and cheap enough that nobody's pretending otherwise.

Patrons congregate at the pick-up window before they've even made it through the door, which tells you most of what you need to know. Tutti is a neighborhood pizza shop with a 30-seat room of butcher block, steel ovens, and dough being stretched in plain sight, all of it smelling powerfully of garlic. The menu splits into square pies, round pies, and desserts, and the wine program leans on the bar next door.

The 100-day dry-aged tomahawk arrives on a silver platter, which tells you everything about the room. Tutto Carne is an Italian-themed steakhouse in Little Italy, with chophouse classics like steak tartare and shrimp cocktail sharing the menu with bistecca alla Fiorentina and chateaubriand. The kitchen pulls its meat from a sister butcher shop, which tends to show. Forty-five seats keep things close, and the bistro vibe softens the splurge just enough.

Two Tony's is a big Creole Italian dining room in Lakeview where everyone ends up glancing at the next table's plates, and the portions guarantee you'll be carrying leftovers out to the car. The seeded bread arrives in baskets and does a lot of the damage before the entrees show up. Fried artichoke hearts, stuffed mushrooms, tiramisu, and a limoncello to close, in the manner of a last supper with a reservation.

There is no pool, no lake, not even a decorative fountain at this roadside seafood spot off Arnold Drive, which makes the name either a joke or a flex. White walls, a dog-friendly patio, and a long view of the Sonoma hills set the tone for a menu that plays casual but thinks clearly, with a tuna bowl leaning poke and a fried cod sandwich doing polished things to a fast-food classic. The wine list is longer than you'd expect from a place you can bring your dog to.

The leopard-spotted crust on a wood-fired Neapolitan pie is the whole point here, and Vero has been packing Cedar Road over it for years. The space expanded not long ago, adding a bar and twice the seating, though waits still stack up on busy nights. Classic toppings, careful technique, and a room that finally has enough room in it.

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.