The Best Places to Eat and Stay in the United States

This Corktown brewery and beer garden pours a dozen drafts, plus hard cider from its sister brand and a housemade prebiotic soda for anyone in the group sworn off the good stuff. A pavilion with open-air seating handles the warm months, while the semi-industrial indoors does communal tables and solo bar stools. Instead of a mug club, you can join something called the United Federation of Eaters and Drinkers, which is a lot of governance for beer.

Bayona is a Creole restaurant in a French Quarter cottage, and the courtyard out back is the move. It's all plants and cobblestones, enough of them to make a Roman side street feel underpaved. Tables here are for lingering, not turning, so you can take your time with a friend or two without being swept along by a tourist parade. Expect a proper sit-down dinner, so dress like someone who's about to be served duck liver pâté.

The communal high-top near the entrance is the first thing you notice, and on social hour nights it's the last thing you want to leave. Beckett's Table is a neighborhood restaurant in Arcadia doing Southwestern comfort food with the kind of ease that comes from a chef who's been cooking since childhood. The fork-tender short ribs and a fig-and-pecan pie that the city seems to have adopted as its own keep regulars coming back without much deliberation.

Eighteen holes of indoor mini-golf sharing a building with a full gastropub and two bars sets the tone at Birdietown, a sprawling two-level spot in Lakewood's Birdtown neighborhood. The chef is James Beard semifinalist Jill Vedaa, which explains why the food takes itself more seriously than the surroundings might suggest. Think date night, not birthday party, and come thirsty.

An ice cream shop that started as a walk-up window at a bar and somehow turned into a proper neighborhood institution in the Drake area. The from-scratch flavors lean hard into Midwestern nostalgia, think bomb pop sorbet and sweet corn with raspberry, which sounds like it shouldn't work until it does. The butter ice cream loaded with fried Twinkie chunks earns its following every state fair season. A second location has since opened in Valley Junction.

Blue Nile is a casual Ethiopian restaurant where dinner arrives on one big communal platter laid over injera, which doubles as the plate, the fork, and the napkin you wish you had. Come with friends and a willingness to eat with your hands. It's been doing this in Houston for ages, and the meal can end with a full coffee ceremony, which is a slower way to finish dinner than a check and a mint.

String lights, a sprawling patio, and a wedding venue next door set the tone at this cozy modern bistro tucked behind an office park in Mesa. It reads like an elegant garden party that wandered off and found a better location. The menu rotates with the seasons, leaning toward steaks, fresh seafood, and handmade pasta, with shareable starters and a dessert list worth saving room for. A Phoenix New Times top 50 pick.

Bochi Bochi is a Japanese street food trailer that started as a takoyaki cart and has since graduated to a full-size, whimsically decorated rig. The menu runs to comfort food, like fried chicken karaage and yaki udon topped with a fried egg, plus the okonomiyaki and kimchi tater tots that built the following. It moves around Boise, so check social media first, because showing up at an empty parking spot is no way to eat.

Black-and-white tile, Argentinian mementos on the walls, and a menu short enough to fit on a napkin: Boludo is a pizza and empanada shop that takes its cues from Buenos Aires. The chef trained in his grandmother's kitchen there before landing in Minneapolis, and the compact menu shows that restraint. The pizza crust has a faint sweetness that plays against the tangy tomato sauce, and the empanadas are dense and crispy-edged. Several locations around the Twin Cities, all doing takeout and delivery.

The chef caps Bosforo kebap at fifty daily, so ordering early isn't optional so much as strategic. This modern Turkish restaurant in Normal Heights serves wood-fired hummus, hand-minced beef skewers, and lahmacun alongside homestyle dishes the chef grew up on but couldn't find a reason to put on a menu until now. The room draws a neighborhood crowd that clearly got there before you.

The shokupan here is soft enough to make you question your relationship with crusts. Bread n' Chu is a Japanese-style sandwich counter on Clement Street where the egg salad is Kewpie-heavy and dill-flecked, the chicken katsu arrives with purple cabbage slaw, and the choux sandwich with strawberries and pastry cream exists primarily to be photographed. No seating, but there's a ledge by the window for exactly that purpose.

Brew is a casual bakery and cafe on Park Street in Five Points, where the unofficial motto is "not bad," a level of restraint the pastry case does not share. Eggs come on Texas toast or tucked into a pimento cheese kolache, and the layer cakes get ribbons of buttercream. Laptop people claim the booths while everyone else watches the street from the bar, with a torched marshmallow cube on top if it's cold.

Brine is a tiny San Marco seafood spot run by a married pair who spent years serving caviar bumps out of coffee shops and distilleries before anyone gave them a door. The tasting menu is crudo-heavy and runs a dozen courses, so wear something you can sit in. Lunch is walk-in, with a grilled cheese that sneaks caviar in, and aperitivo hour and $2 oyster Tuesdays keep the bill from getting ideas.

This is a small counter-service bakery in Greater Grand Crossing where the cakes are sold by the slice, so you can sample the whole case without committing to a wedding order. The caramel cake is the one people talk about, with light, open layers frosted so neatly it looks like a surveyor was involved. Cheesecake, pies, and cupcakes crowd the case too, and the line tends to move with the focus of people who already know their order.

Chandeliers hang over the shrimp and grits at this Southern comfort restaurant, which commits to the contradiction with a straight face. The menu runs through fried chicken and waffles, pimento mac and cheese, and biscuits, but the room is full date-night, not diner. The bourbon list is one of the longer ones in Iowa, which is saying something in a state that takes corn seriously. End with the hummingbird cake if you know what's good for you.

Budsi's is a sit-down Thai restaurant on a brick corner in the Marigny, a long way from the pop-up it started as. It's built for splitting things, so bring friends and let the table fill with wings, satays, and dumplings. Everyone gets their own curry or noodle dish, because sharing has limits. Going solo for a cocktail and larb is allowed, but the table does the real work here. The Infatuation includes it on its list of the city's best restaurants.

The wine list here gets talked about almost as much as the pizza, which is saying something given how good the Neapolitan pies are. This Brentwood pizzeria and wine bar keeps things simple: blistered crusts, quality toppings, and an affordable bottle selection that skews interesting rather than obvious. Rotating specials lean seasonal, and the appetizers hold their own. Casual enough for a weeknight, fun enough that you stay for another glass.

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.