The Best Places to Eat and Stay in the United States

The name is short for Serene Republic of Venice, which tells you exactly how seriously the team takes the concept. This South End cicchetti bar and trattoria runs a Venetian Italian menu that shifts with the seasons without abandoning the dishes regulars would notice missing. The room skews sophisticated, the kind of place where the staff actually remembers you by the second visit and seems to mean it.

The orange dining room sits next door to a movie theater, which the regulars treat as a snack-supply opportunity. Star Chaat is a cheerful, family-packed Indian chaat restaurant with a vast vegetarian menu, the kind of place where the whole wheat chaat baskets and a coriander-heavy veggie burger keep the tables full without any help from the multiplex. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's best South Asian restaurants.

Cocktails arrive in mini bathtubs and disco-ball goblets, which tells you everything about the vibe before you've touched your steak. This is a steakhouse with a set-price format: most meals come with salad, sauce, and a side built in, running from a house sirloin cap up to a 32-ounce tomahawk for the committed. The room is dim and deliberately sexy, free popcorn lands on the table first, and the whole thing is priced to feel like a night out rather than a special occasion.

Schiacciata, the flatter, crispier Tuscan cousin of focaccia, is the foundation every sandwich here is built on. This downtown Petaluma deli, market, and bottle shop loads it with prosciutto, porchetta, or a spicy spreadable sausage, then piles on broccoli rabe or burrata depending on your sandwich of choice. The shelves behind you are stocked with oil-preserved chiles and Italian pantry goods, so it's easy to leave with more than you planned.

Sub Cultured is a walk-up sandwich window in Atlantic Beach, which means you order outside and eat wherever you can find a ledge. It's part of a crowded local sub scene where everyone has a loyalty and will defend it. The pressed cuban and the jalapeno-heavy Fuego Philly get the attention, and the crinkle-cut fries come with grilled onions, cheese whiz, and a sauce borrowed from In-N-Out. The Infatuation lists it among Jacksonville's best restaurants.

An ice cream sandwich shop in Carondelet where every flavor is named after a literary villain or witch, which is either the most charming concept you've heard all week or proof that a Yale degree can go anywhere. The owners built the place around equitable food systems, so the ethos runs deeper than the frosting. Come for something cold and cleverly named, leave having thought about regional food economies more than you expected.

A retro fish camp on Sullivans Island where the Southern tradition of fried seafood in baskets still anchors the menu, though the kitchen under chef Jason Stanhope has broadened out into local fish crudo, fresh catch, and oysters by the plate. The beverage list leans heavily on crisp whites and tropical cocktails, which makes stopping in for a drink and a dozen oysters an entirely reasonable Tuesday-afternoon decision.

Biscuits baked fresh every morning anchor the menu at this casual brunch spot, where the rest of the food takes its cues from homestyle Texan cooking. The limeade, freshly juiced and apparently the whole origin story, pairs with cocktails made from Utah distillery spirits. Hearty salads and from-scratch everything fill out the menu. The kind of neighborhood spot that started at farmers markets and never lost that energy.

A bakery in Old Redford built entirely around one vegetable, which sounds like a stunt until you see the display case: sweet potato pie, cheesecake, cookies, ice cream, Belgian waffles, grits, cornbread, and on. The whole project is a quiet tribute to George Washington Carver and his cataloguing of the sweet potato's uses. Order ahead online if you'd rather browse than queue, and don't skip the black-eyed pea and collard green soup.

Sweet Theory is a small vegan bakery that doesn't make a big deal of being vegan, which feels like a relief. The donuts come in small batches and tend to sell out, in flavors like lavender blood orange. The biscuits anchor a short sandwich menu, including one stacked with white bean sausage and coconut bacon. There are one or two tables, so you'll be eating this in your car like an adult.

The mini chocolate chip cookies have their own fan base, which tells you something about how this casual American restaurant operates. Chef Lynn Pritchard built a devoted following at the original Clive location before moving downtown, and the regulars followed. The menu mixes old standbys with newer plates, the wine list is carefully put together, and the patio catches the afternoon light when Des Moines cooperates.

A trompo of ruby-red pork spins under a blue canopy near the Oakland Flea Market, sliced thin onto tortillas with a technique that keeps the edges crisp every time. This Pueblan taco stand tops each one with a slab of pineapple that pulls the chile marinade into focus. Get there early while the spit is still full. The gringa, a small al pastor quesadilla on flour tortilla, is worth the detour too.

A cart outside a Cardenas grocery store in East Oakland, where the vendor shouts "Tacos! Tacos de canasta!" loud enough to settle the question of where lunch is. Tacos de canasta are a Mexico City staple rarely spotted in the Bay, and this stand does them straight: steamed basket tacos stuffed with chicharron, pollo con mole, or papas con chorizo, pulled from baskets lined in red picnic cloth, with pickled veggies and a chimichurri aioli that overperform for the price.

A spinning trompo in the window is the whole argument for this Mission District taco stand. Thin-shaved al pastor lands straight from the spit onto the tortilla, pineapple shard included, with three salsas on the side ranging from tangy to genuinely punishing. The tripas are the quiet move, especially ordered doraditas, fried until crispy. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the best tacos in the Bay Area, which feels about right from the sidewalk.

A trompo spins outside a business park on Phelan Avenue, which is either an unlikely setting or a perfect one depending on how hungry you are. This taco trailer is run by chilangos from Mexico City, and the al pastor is their calling card: pork shaved from the vertical spit, crisped on the plancha, landed on yellow corn tortillas with pineapple and three salsas. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's best tacos.

A beef head steamer and a roving trompo in a dirt lot next to a KFC: this is Jalisco-style taqueria truck cooking, not a punchline. The family lonchera turns out small tacos packed with cabeza in the classic al vapor style, plus carnaza and ojo for the committed. Canopies and folding seating stretch out to handle the crowd that shows up anyway. The San Francisco Chronicle called them the best tacos in the Bay Area.

The salsa flies through the air here, literally flicked by spoon onto your tacos in a move that's part performance, part seasoning strategy. This Chavinda-style taqueria in Richmond cooks its meats together in one enormous steel cauldron, so the chorizo, al pastor, and beef all end up in each other's business. Mix and match fillings at no extra cost. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's finest tacos, which explains the weekend wait.

Mesquite smoke is the advertisement here, drifting into Foothill Boulevard long before you spot the food truck parked in a doughnut shop lot. This is a Tijuana-style taqueria, the charcoal grill set up out front where it can do the most damage. Meats come properly baptized in smoke, wrapped in paper the traditional way, with thick guacamole on the side. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the Bay Area's finest tacos, and the line makes that case without any help.

Mesquite coals do the heavy lifting at this taqueria in San Lorenzo, where the smoke gets into the chorizo and the asada before anything else happens. The Villa family presses tortillas by hand and wraps each taco into a paper cone Tijuana-style, with a thick scoop of guacamole tucked in. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the best tacos in the Bay Area. The fatty cabeza with salsa verde is the one regulars order without looking up.

Tamales have been leaving this carryout window on Vernor since the 1950s, most urgently around Christmas when the line gets serious. The menu sticks to classic pork and chicken, with rotating specials like cheese-jalapeño, and the tamales run on the slender side, which keeps the masa-to-filling ratio honest. Call ahead and your bag is waiting by the time you arrive, which is either efficient or slightly magical depending on your day.

Taqueria Cinco is a casual Mexican spot in a city where locals joke that every closed restaurant gets replaced by another taco place. It's the one you take friends from cities with serious Mexican food, and it comes with a big patio that fills up at happy hour. Order at a relaxed pace, in whatever you wore to work. Check the address before you go, since Jacksonville has several taco spots with confusingly similar energy.

The trompo here gets more local fanfare than most politicians, and for good reason: al pastor is the gravitational center of this Oaxacan taqueria on National Avenue, Milwaukee's first sit-down location from a south-side truck fleet that's grown into something of a mini empire. The menu sprawls into tlayudas, birria de chivo, volcánes, and mulitas, with aguas frescas to cool things down after the fiery red salsa does its work.

The wheat-fiber "asada" is marinated in beer and smoke until it tastes like a backyard grill, which is a reasonable way to open an argument. This snug Oakland taqueria makes the case that vegan tacos don't need an asterisk, with in-house fillings, mushroom carnitas with real richness, and horchata that holds its own. The San Francisco Chronicle named it among the best tacos in the Bay Area, vegan or otherwise implied.

A stone oven dominates the floor of what was once a fast-food shell on Milwaukee's south side, turning out taboon bread and stuffed fatayer at a pace that explains the "bakery" in the name. The Jordanian and Palestinian menu runs wider than that, though: hummus, baba ghanoush, kebabs, eggs, fried cheeses, Turkish coffee. Elaborate rugs and ornate lamps make the room feel nothing like its previous life.

The dark chocolate-dipped baklava sitting out front does a lot of work attracting first-timers, but it's the shawarma and falafel that keep regulars finding the stall at both the Saturday downtown and Thursday Valley Junction farmers markets. A seasonal Middle Eastern market stand running spring through fall, Tarboosh draws the kind of devoted following where strangers talk each other into trying things unprompted, which is either charming or a lot, depending on your mood.

The menu runs to biblical length and the wall photos of dishes look like lineup shots at a precinct, but nobody in this clattery Malaysian restaurant in Elmhurst seems bothered by either. The New York Times put it on their 100 Best in New York City list, which tracks. Roti canai leaves a sheen on your fingers, and the char kway teow arrives smelling of the wok in a way that suggests Kuala Lumpur, not Queens, until you look up.

The ales are named after tax terms, which is either the best brewing pun or the most on-brand origin story you'll ever hear. This gastropub a few blocks from Lucas Oil Stadium pours Belgian-style beers alongside a menu built on Indiana-grown meat and produce. The kitchen leans hearty, think brisket croquettes and beer-battered pork tenderloin with Belgian fries. The cocktail list takes itself only slightly more seriously than the beer names do.

The hotel claims to have invented the Reuben sandwich, which is either true or the greatest piece of lobby mythology in the Midwest. The Committee Chophouse, upstairs in the historic Blackstone, is a proper steakhouse leaning into the full period drama: Delmonico and chateaubriand, creamed spinach, potatoes Lyonnaise. Jackets optional, expense accounts welcome, time capsule very much intended.

A deli tucked inside a gym in a business park, which sounds like a punchline until you taste the sandwich. The chef behind the counter trained at Californios, and it shows in small ways, a lemon aioli that quietly rewires a turkey-cheddar, sourdough from Petaluma's beloved Della Fattoria. A second location has since opened with more room, but the original health club stall carries on, improbably, for those who know.

A bakery in Mountain View that bakes sesame rolls and Dutch crunch bread exclusively for the Rōzmary Kitchen popup, which sets up here on Fridays. The sandwiches are the draw: the Southern Peach pairs turkey and pimento cheese against sweet pickled peaches, and the Italian cured meat options are just as good. The San Francisco Chronicle named it one of the Bay Area's best sandwich spots, which tracks.

The Nitro Bar is a casual coffee shop on Broadway, and the nitro cold brew has convinced local firefighters to skip Dunkin', which in New England is practically a defection. Monthly specials run toward things like caramelized banana, and there's a breakfast sandwich with avocado and poblano aioli. The indoor space is small and shared with a bike shop, so take your drink outside if the weather cooperates.

Parked next to Liberty Park, this neighborhood breakfast and lunch diner draws an eclectic mix: hungover 20-somethings, hip parents, and apparently some professional soccer players. The counter fills fast on weekends, service moves with purpose, and the whiteboard specials are worth a look before you order. Biscuits and gravy and the French Toast Foolishness are the regulars' anchors, but the daily huevos rancheros with pork chile verde have their own following.

The all-day cafe sits beneath the historic Eldorado Ballroom in Houston's Third Ward, which tells you something before you've even ordered. Breakfast tacos, sandwiches, and farm-fresh salads fill the menu, and the indoor market stocks condiments, desserts, and wine curated by neighborhood residents. Emancipation Park is right across the street if you'd rather eat outside, and the Hogan Brown Art Gallery is next door if you'd rather linger.