The Best Places to Eat and Stay in the United States

The chef grows his own peppers for the ceviche, which tells you something about how seriously this Rockridge Peruvian restaurant takes its headlining dish. Each one arrives layered with fried corn, seaweed, and fish that's been marinated into something vivid and fiery. The chicharron and shrimp chupe hold their own as follow-ups, and the sake pisco sour is a quiet argument for rethinking a classic. Snug room, wood accents, a small parklet outside.

The pastry case at this sunny Healdsburg bakery often runs bare before the end of the day, which should tell you something. Pesto-swirled croissants and kouign amanns sit alongside serious breads, and the quiche lands on the creamier end of the spectrum. Seating is outdoor picnic tables only, so you're essentially buying provisions. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the top bakeries in the Bay Area.

The paper butter cover stamped with a cursive "S" tells you everything about Sam's Grill, a classic San Francisco seafood grill that has been around forever. Rows of coat hooks line the walls from an era when men wore hats, and the curtained back booths suggest generations of cioppino-fueled lunch intrigue. Tuxedoed servers deliver oysters Rockefeller to regulars who never need the menu. Weekday lunch is the move; dinner is largely theoretical.

A Jewish deli in the Bay Area is a rare enough thing that Saul's has been feeding North Berkeley for decades without much competition. The latkes are aggressively crunchy, the pastrami comes fatty and brined on rye with grainy mustard, and raspberry jam sits on every table like a standing invitation. Pancakes are fluffy in the way a diner promises but rarely delivers. Weekend brunch draws a crowd that clearly has nowhere more important to be.

A dim sum restaurant attached to a Sunnyvale Ramada Inn sounds like a punchline, but the kitchen-feed TV looping footage of cooks pulling noodles and stir-frying greens sets the tone quickly. This is a spacious, serious dim sum house with a sunroom and patio, serving har gow, barbecue pork buns, and chicken feet glossed in sweet sauce. The house chile oil quietly runs the whole operation. Black charcoal buns filled with salted egg custard are the crowd favorite.

A family-run crab shop on the Bodega Bay waterfront where the fishermen and the kitchen are basically the same people. Order a crab sandwich or a cup of clam chowder, then take it to the cliffs overlooking the bay, where the wind and the smell of seawater do the rest of the work. Whole cooked crabs to go, too. The San Francisco Chronicle has named it among the best seafood spots in the Bay Area.

Posters advertising long-gone menu items like cottage cheese salad hang alongside the candy display at this Mission District diner, which has been around forever and looks exactly like it. Wood booths, a lunch counter, and the kind of simplicity that produces genuinely fluffy flapjacks and a patty melt on marbled rye. The city's Legacy Business Program keeps the bones intact, which means new ownership changes nothing a regular would notice.

Oxblood marble and decorative molding dripping in merlot tones have replaced what the Chronicle once described as a middle school production of Camelot. This old-school Italian red sauce restaurant on Taraval has been around forever, and a lengthy remodel hasn't loosened its grip on the classics. Regulars who never open the menu fill the room by six, and if you ask the kitchen nicely about the veal saltimbocca, it will appear.

Hog Island Oyster Company farms its oysters right here on Tomales Bay, which is about as close to the source as you can get without wading in. The retail counter sells those oysters alongside condiments and picnic supplies, so most people just load up and find a spot along the coast. The reservation-only oyster bar adds grilled preparations and small plates for those who'd rather sit. Marine biologists founded it, which explains why the conservation ethos feels less like marketing.

Yellow Light is a neighborhood doughnut and coffee shop on Jefferson Avenue in Jefferson Chalmers, with a drive-thru that does real work once winter sets in. The glazes get inventive, including one made with Faygo Red Pop, and the biscuit breakfast sandwiches keep the savory side honest. It's cheap, casual, and eaten in a parked car about as often as at a table. Eater has put it on both its Detroit doughnut and coffee lists.

The facade is papered with photos of the original owner posing with Jackie Chan, Emeril Lagasse, and Jacques Pépin, which tells you most of what you need to know. This old-school Hong Kong seafood spot in Chinatown has been around forever and draws a late-night crowd that arrives hungry and slightly chaotic. The wok runs hot, the garlic-fried prawns arrive crunchy to the heads, and the salt-and-pepper calamari is what you order when the evening needs a proper ending.

A thatched-roof hut stands in the middle of the dining room, which tells you this Ethiopian restaurant on Saratoga Ave is not going through the motions. The vegetarian combo arrives as a mosaic of colors on injera, and the kitfo, spiced raw beef tartare, is the thing regulars order without looking up. Honey wine comes in painted bottles. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's best Ethiopian spots.

The rice noodles here are stubby and chewy rather than the thin, rippling sheets you'd find elsewhere in Chinatown, and that texture is the whole point. Chang Lai is a tiny Cantonese noodle shop on Bayard where the regulars from the old street cart days have simply followed the owners indoors. Curry fish balls and noodles with all the sauces will run you around five dollars, which leaves you no excuse not to go twice.

Inside Grand Central Terminal, this vast all-day French brasserie runs from the pre-dawn commuter rush straight through to a late-night dinner crowd, 365 days a year. The scale is genuinely staggering, which means walk-ins are usually fine, a minor miracle in Midtown. The menu swings from a lobster omelet at breakfast to classic brasserie fare at dinner, with the room itself doing a lot of the heavy lifting.

One of the last dim sum parlors in Chinatown still rolling carts through the dining room, House of Joy fills fast on weekends, and the wait outside can stretch past an hour if you don't arrive early. Worth the patience: plates of rice noodles, pineapple buns, and chicken feet run a few dollars each, and the room itself, loud and bustling and completely unbothered by trends, does most of the convincing.

Maroon is a sleek, clubby Afro-Caribbean restaurant at the Sahara, built around a custom jerk pit you can smell before you find your table. The hip-hop runs loud enough that anything important should wait until dessert, if not the car. Expect jerk chicken, braised oxtail, and bachelorettes on their way to Magic Mike next door. Book about a month ahead, or call in a favor.

Eyal Shani's quick-service pita shop inside the Venetian prints its menu entirely in Comic Sans, which tells you most of what you need to know about the mood. Stuffed pitas run from wild mushroom to rib-eye minute steak, and the vegetables get treated with a near-religious seriousness that makes a cold bag of green beans feel like an event. High-top seating, fast counter service, and prices that won't require a second mortgage on the Strip.

Stonewashed walls, seating in every configuration known to humanity, and enough plants to make a botanist emotional set the scene at this coffee shop on East 12th. The front half runs buzzy and social while the back stays quieter, so you can choose your own adventure. The menu covers the usual cafe drinks alongside a few specialty brews, plus breakfast sandwiches and housemade pastries. You can also buy the ivy you've been staring at all morning.

A tiny black box of a coffee shop on SE Stark, Puff Coffee comes with a Stumptown pedigree and the occasional line of devoted early arrivals out front. The focus is single-origin beans, served as drip or a tight espresso, with the shop's clean, minimal interior quietly offset by an E.T. figurine nestled among vintage coffee makers. For the less orthodox, shroom lattes with lion's mane and chaga round things out.

Wood-paneled walls and a parking lot that fills before most people have checked their phones: Harlow's is an old-school Tempe diner that hasn't felt the need to update anything. Booths pack in early birds and retirees at dawn, then hand off to the hangover crowd around nine. The coffee is black, the burritos are large, and the servers are the kind who remember how you take it. Phoenix New Times named it one of the ten best brunch spots in Phoenix.

Taking the elevator to the sixth floor of a commercial building off Union Square is a strange way to find a kaiseki omakase, which is probably the point. The chef spent years at the cult Japanese spot Kyo Ya before opening this one, and the room lands somewhere between chic Tokyo penthouse and relaxed dinner party, with the city glittering through the windows. The courses are elaborate and precise; the mood, somehow, is not.

Donna's is a cocktail bar on White Oak where the evening's main activity is relaying other people's drinks over your head while inching toward the rail. Seats are guarded by strangers who hover with the patience of vultures, and a Fridge Cig, an Old Fashioned built on dark rum and cherry cola, is what you'll be holding when you finally win one. It was a Spirited Awards Top 10 nominee for Best New U.S. Cocktail Bar.

The bright yellow building in Phoenix's Melrose District is hard to argue with at 7 a.m. Joe's is an old-school diner with booths, round group tables, and road signs on the walls, the kind of place where the coffee is black and nobody's trying to impress you. Weekends bring a line out front, which the regulars seem to take as confirmation rather than inconvenience. The biscuits and gravy and oversized burritos do the heavy lifting.

Tesiny is a small raw bar and charcoal grill on a South Philly block of old-school institutions, a short walk from an abandoned garage, which is not the setting oysters usually ask for. Inside, velvet chairs and late-90s R&B give it the feel of a very good bar mitzvah afterparty. Stop in for a drink and a snack or stay for dinner, though expect a sit-down price, not a counter-service one.

A French cafe that does breakfast and lunch by the book, then quietly pivots at dinner into something else entirely. The chef spent time doing pop-ups before taking over this spot, and his French-Haitian dinner menu carries that earned confidence: Haitian epis perfumes a beef patty, djon-djon gets English peas and local mushrooms, and the kitchen-driven cocktail list includes non-alcoholic drinks worth ordering on purpose.

The owl-themed knick-knacks, artwork, and furniture covering every surface are all for sale, which is either charming or a lot to process before coffee. This casual brunch cafe imported its loyal following from Flagstaff, where lines used to stretch down the street on weekends. Giant cinnamon rolls, football-sized burritos, and a full vegan menu cover the table. The Newton location sits conveniently next to Changing Hands Bookstore, for after.

A Taiwanese home-cooking spot in Bayside so far from the subway that getting there is its own commitment. The chef, owner, and entire staff is one woman, Mei Lee, so ring the counter bell and wait. She'd rather you didn't spread the word. The New York Times put it at number ten on their 100 Best Restaurants list, so that ship has sailed. Beef noodle soup, lion's head meatballs, and broth poured to the rim say everything the bare room doesn't.

The flan is smoked, which tells you everything about what kind of barbecue shop this is. Growing out of a Latin bakery next door, this is a counter-service spot making the case for what Miami barbecue actually looks like: ribs glazed with guava-ancho sauce, brisket rubbed with Cuban coffee, black beans baked with pineapple. The New York Times put it on their Restaurant List. The savory-sweet logic of the Latin American diaspora runs through every bite.

A googly-eyed metal tiger on the wall and a wooden tableau glossing the definition of "hangry" set the tone at this Thai street food spot in downtown Danville, where the vibe is more family dinner than date-night theater. Khao soi and pumpkin curry are the reasons regulars keep coming back. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the top Thai restaurants in the Bay Area.

This is a loud French bistro in North Park that feels like it arrived on a flatbed from the Strip, minus the nightclub and the bottle-service tax. The steak is the move, and the pickle martini is a sentence you'll say out loud to your server. Bring friends who don't mind shouting across the table, then ask about the speakeasy upstairs, where a cognac and cold brew is the polite way to end the night.

Murals of desert landscapes and the Nasser family carving shawarma off vertical spits cover the walls, which tells you most of what you need to know. Abu Salim is a counter-service Middle Eastern spot on Haight Street, casual in the way the neighborhood demands. The hummus runs soft-serve creamy and the Ramallah-style falafels shatter cleanly. Portions lean generous, and the kitchen covers shawarma plates, vegetarian combos, and salads with evident care.

The logo is a Ramones seal riff, and the walls are buried in band stickers and prints, so the vibe is established before you order. Aburaya is a karaage shop in Oakland's Temescal that goes deep on one thing: thick boneless thighs marinated in shio-koji, dredged in potato starch for a crunch that actually holds. The seasonings and dipping sauces, garlic miso powder, sansho pepper, miso ranch, are where the kitchen puts its personality.

A bright blue truck parked outside a rock climbing gym is perhaps the least likely setting for a serious coffee program, and yet here we are. Akhanay is a specialty coffee truck drawing on Thai and Southeast Asian tradition, pouring drinks like a coconut cold brew and a mango sticky rice matcha. Orders go in online, and you collect them curbside, ideally before someone asks if you're there to climb.

This is a big, family-friendly Lebanese restaurant in Dearborn, and it's apparently where half of Detroit sends you the moment you land at the airport. The pita comes out of an oven shipped over from Lebanon, which is more dedication than most of us give our commutes. Come for the hummus, the shawarma wraps with a sharp hit of toum, or a slow-roasted lamb on almond rice built for a table of relatives. Order the Lemon Crush.

Colorful fabric drapes the ceiling like a Bedouin tent, and the smell of mesquite smoke hits you before you find a table. Al Bawadi is a sprawling Middle Eastern grill in Niles where the portions arrive on banquet platters, hummus and rice piled high enough to guarantee tomorrow's lunch. Kefta, kebabs, lamb, chicken, seafood, all over hardwood. The New York Times put it on their list of the 25 best restaurants in Chicago right now.

A halal grocery and meat market in Sunnyvale that also happens to run a charcoal grill out back. Order a koobideh or chicken tikka skewer and about fifteen minutes later someone emerges with an aluminum tray lined with lavash, which quietly absorbs all the smoky, spiced drippings. The San Francisco Chronicle named it one of the Bay Area's top Middle Eastern spots. Sides you'll have to source elsewhere, but the skewers alone make the detour easy to justify.

A sculpted amethyst rock anchors the coffee bar, a gold nugget juts from the back wall, and a mural covers the entire side of the room, which is a lot to take in before your first sip. This Johns Creek coffee shop looks like a strip-mall afterthought from the parking lot, so the interior earns its surprise. Specialty lattes use beans from Cafe Campesino, and Dutch coffee and waffles round out the menu.

This is the Morningside flagship of a longtime Atlanta bakery, where four separate counters operate behind glass doors in a state of organized chaos. One handles bread and sweet, sticky cinnamon twists, another does delicate desserts like opera cakes and macarons, and the prepared foods case is where you go to look like you cooked for the dinner party. The Infatuation has it on its list of the city's best bakeries. Order a sandwich first, so you shop with a clear head.

A Cal-Italian restaurant on Nob Hill where all the pasta is made in-house and the Bolognese simmers for half a day before it touches a plate. The kitchen leans on the rich, meaty flavors of central Italy, which means comfort is the whole project, not an afterthought. The room is cozy enough that the cooking and the atmosphere feel like they had a meeting. The San Francisco Chronicle has named it among the best Italian in the Bay Area.

A sumo wrestler mural runs the length of the wall at this sleek, sprawling contemporary sushi spot in downtown Dublin. The 188-seat room feels casual despite its size, with granite counters and deep slouchy chairs built for a long night. Weekend crowds come for creative rolls and ramen alongside a full cocktail list, and the clam ramen in butter-enriched broth tends to slow people down mid-conversation. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's top Japanese restaurants.

The entrance is styled as a dry cleaner, complete with hanging racks of clothes you push through to reach a gold-leaf, hand-painted dining room with a live jazz trio. This elegant Cuban-Korean-Peruvian sit-down restaurant in a strip mall off the Palmetto is from the family behind Islas Canarias, and the menu runs mojo chicken alongside lomo saltado risotto and katsu-style chicharrones. The New York Times named it one of Miami's 25 best restaurants.

A cozy Richmond District Thai restaurant with a menu long enough to require real commitment. The slow-braised pork-leg stew, a Thai street-vendor staple fragrant with cinnamon, star anise, and soy, is the kind of thing regulars order before they sit down. The crispy chicken wings in sticky chile-garlic sauce pull their weight too. Hard-to-find specialties fill out a menu that goes well beyond the usual neighborhood Thai repertoire.

The yurt out back, snow-dusted and strung with twinkle lights, seats twelve for private dinners and tells you everything about Angelo's ambitions. It's a newish Italian restaurant in the heart of Aspen, already the default for big-table occasions, with a menu that swings from nostalgic tomato-basil fusilli to a white-chocolate dessert shell that cracks open to reveal yuzu ganache inside.

Black tablecloths and béarnaise sauce in a city that keeps reinventing itself: Antiquity has been Old Town's steakhouse for the kind of dinner that comes with a ring box or a round number. Oysters Rockefeller, beef carpaccio, bacon-wrapped filet, all delivered with the formal unhurried pace that casual-dining culture declared dead years ago. The room hasn't flinched, and neither have the regulars who seem to book the same corner table every anniversary.

Butterfly tapestries climb the walls and spill onto a mezzanine level, and the bar fixtures look like conch shells, so you know the room has opinions. Augie's is a French bistro that earns its snails with the clamps and forks for the full surgical experience, though you can also order them Buffalo-style, which France will just have to accept. The burger, all pan-crusted patty and comté, has become a reason to drive up from the city.