The Best Places to Eat in the United States

Part seafood counter, part fish market, Billingsgate sits in Noe Valley doing two things quietly well. The poke draws the most attention, ahi tuna kept minimal with soy and chile flakes, best ordered alongside sushi rice, seaweed, and avocado. The Spanish tomato toast is worth the detour too, anchovies and jamón ibérico on crisped bread that arrives already a little aggressive and rewards collapsing into a sandwich.

Bin 22 is a tapas and wine bar, and getting in means walking through a liquor store to the back, which is either charming or a very elaborate way to hide a restaurant. Locals and tourists share the communal tables and bar, so dining solo tends to end with a new acquaintance. The house-pulled mozzarella gets the most attention, and the rotating rosés keep the glasses full. The Infatuation lists it among Jackson Hole's top restaurants.

A gas station with a grill inside and a rack of nudie magazines by the register, which explains both the name and the bumper stickers you've been seeing since you crossed the bridge. The move is a breakfast sandwich on a freshly baked biscuit the size of a softball; get there early, because the line forms fast and the biscuits run out. Fried chicken fills the gap when they do.

Copper pans hang near the open kitchen at this warm Italian bistro that's been woven into the fabric of Napa Valley long enough to count as an institution. The pasta is made in-house with the kind of al dente chew that takes practice, and the fritto misto is crackly and uncluttered. Tourists and wine-country regulars share the room with equal comfort, which is a harder trick than it sounds.

Black Briar is a gastropub in the old Bar Takito space on North Morgan, which means it has 110 seats and a menu that wanders from raw oysters to venison tartare without apologizing. Snail toast shares the page with handmade cavatelli, so nobody has to commit to a single personality. There's a U-shaped bar for the solo diners and an open kitchen for anyone who likes to watch dinner get argued over.

The mimosa flight arrives in four small glasses, each a different juice, which is either charming or a mild content-marketing stunt depending on your mood. Black Walnut is a casual, multi-location brunch cafe where the menu runs comforting and familiar: eggs Benedict, chorizo migas, a buttery croissant sandwich. Weekend mornings draw a crowd that has strong feelings about where to brunch, and this is one of their answers.

Blue Corn is a casual Mexican spot in the Italian Market where the tortillas and both table salsas are made in-house, which is more effort than most places put into a free bowl of anything. The room is strung with so much festive decor that you'll wonder which holiday you missed, and the margaritas are strong enough to make you stop asking. Expect an easy dinner, jeans welcome, and a spot on The Infatuation's list of Philadelphia's top restaurants.

Bluewater Grill is a seafood restaurant with a breezy terrace and a sourcing philosophy that means the fish has a better paper trail than most of the clientele. Lunch starts at noon, with midday specials like fish tacos, a crab BLT on sourdough, and a grilled fish sandwich. The menu also stretches to sushi, burgers, and salads, so the one person who orders a salad at a seafood place has a place to hide. Eater picked it for lunch in San Diego.

Boards N' Beans is a walk-up coffee stand parked outside a Pacific Beach surf shop, which is the most San Diego sentence available. The menu includes butter coffees made with ghee and MCT oil, plus a banana bread latte that tastes like its name without going full dessert. Inside, you can buy house roasts and syrups, then admire the surfboards and maybe catch the board crafter at work behind glass.

The coffee shop that Nashville's coffee scene grew up around, Bongo Java has been on Belmont Avenue long enough that its organic, fair-trade roast turned up on other restaurants' menus before most of those restaurants existed. Breakfast burritos run all day alongside the pour-overs, which makes it less a quick-caffeine stop and more a place where you might accidentally stay for two hours. The Belmont crowd tends to ensure exactly that.

Bonhomie is a coffee bar working out of Belltown's Labour Temple after a long stretch of pop-ups, which means it finally has a door to unlock. The beans come from Haiti, the house syrups borrow from Haitian cooking, and the drinks go by Haitian Creole names. Everything is plant-based, with oat milk as the default, so anyone hoping to bargain for dairy can save their breath and order the plantain one.

Lamb and chicken skewers come off the coals heavy with cumin at this Uyghur restaurant tucked into an Arlington strip mall. The skewers are the draw, but the menu around them pulls equal weight: flat noodles in tart red broth, cold noodles sparked with chili oil, and a beef-and-onion stuffed flatbread that regulars tend to order twice. The New York Times named it one of D.C.'s 25 best restaurants.

This Spanish restaurant off Paradise Road gets some of its French cooking from a former Joël Robuchon chef, so the potato purée arrives buttery and the croquetas arrive dressed as croque monsieur. The dining room has crystal chandeliers and high ceilings, dressy enough for a business dinner, though a Domino's downstairs keeps anyone from getting too precious. Chartreuse is on draft, which is how the night usually ends.

The cafe itself is a repurposed shipping container tucked into the Westside Provisions District, which tells you something about the aesthetic before you even order. Brash is a specialty coffee shop that sources directly from farmers in El Salvador, and the menu runs from careful pour-overs to straightforward drip. Other locations have since spread across Atlanta, with the Beltline outpost adding espresso martinis after dark for when the line blurs.

The six bakers here clock in at 3:30 a.m. to supply Le Diplomate's bread program, and the public gets to buy the same loaves from a 100-square-foot alley shop tucked into the Union Market district. It's a tiny bakery with a serious output: baguettes, multigrain levain, cranberry walnut boules, viennoiserie, and a rotating cast of specialty breads, plus local jams and honey to take home with them.

Brightside Bakeshop is a pastry counter where the menu rotates monthly, so your favorite croissant is always on a countdown. Flavors tend toward the inventive, like lemon lavender kouign amann or an oatmeal cream pie croissant, and there's a sunny wall in the Nations spot that's clearly there for the photos. Expect coffee-and-pastry prices and a line of people deciding between the danish and the other danish.

This is a Hillcrest slice shop where the walls are covered in vintage New York memorabilia, in case the folded slices left any doubt about where its loyalties lie. The pies are classic New York style, with a build-your-own list that runs from broccoli to ricotta to eggplant. A slice, salad, and drink combo costs about nine bucks, and the room is roomy enough that nobody eats standing up. Closed Monday and Tuesday.

The fried chicken biscuit comes with a wooden skewer through it just to hold the whole thing together, which tells you something about the kitchen's ambitions. This Southern-Southwestern brunch spot from the family behind Lo-Lo's Chicken and Waffles leans into the occasion: tableside bananas Foster, a full cocktail menu you can nurse past noon, and a cheerful indoor-outdoor room that has enough energy to feel like a party without scaring off anyone's parents.

Finding it requires navigating a dark brick alley past a dumpster and through an unmarked green door, which is either off-putting or exactly the point. Inside, Bull in the Alley is a low-lit cocktail bar and steakhouse, all plush high-backed booths under starburst pendants and a piano player doing his thing in the corner. The menu stays short: pick your steak, build a drink from the long list, and order the spaghetti for the table.

Burien Press is the original coffee shop from the couple behind Moonshot, Seasmith, and Fable, which makes it the one the others are trying to be. Drinks lean seasonal and simple, built on Olympia beans, and the pastry case is anchored by a gluten-free banana bread that eats like coffee cake. When coffee o'clock passes, beer and wine take over, so nobody has to leave.

The name undersells it: Butchertown Grocery Bakery is a breakfast and lunch spot where the pastry case gets equal billing with the sandwich menu. The wagyu pastrami sandwich with hot mustard and a runny egg has the kind of following that fills tables before noon. Weekend mornings bring out the rolled croissants in rotating flavors, the kind of thing people plan their Saturdays around without quite admitting it.

The smell of butter hits before you've even read the menu, which is a fine way to start a weekend lunch. Butterjoint is a casual neighborhood spot in Oakland doing sandwiches, pierogi, and baked goods with a serious hand. The rolls with roasted cipollini onion butter and the vinegar pie, a Depression-era custardy thing with a crunchy top, are reason enough to come. Colorful booths in the bar section fill up fast.

Pandan Basque cheesecakes in a San Jose strip mall, which is a sentence that doesn't get old. CA Bakehouse is a takeout-only bakery working Southeast Asian flavors into croissants, milk breads, egg tarts, and whole cheesecakes you have to preorder. The banh bo, a soft honeycomb cake, sits alongside coconut-stuffed pandan milk bread that has no business being this good for the price. The San Francisco Chronicle named it one of the Bay Area's best bakeries.

A daytime sandwich shop tucked between the office towers of downtown San Francisco, Cafe du Soleil runs a tight lunch rush with a short line and shorter seating. The prosciutto sandwich, layered with brie and roasted bell peppers, is the kind of thing coworkers quietly compare notes on. Yerba Buena Gardens is a short walk when the tables fill up, which is most days.

Cafe Sous Terre is a basement cafe and bar tucked under a brick mansion that now rents rooms to strangers, and it plays the French cafe of a century ago with green subway tile and long banquettes. By day it's laptops, coffee sodas, and quiche. After dark it's martinis, a croque monsieur, and weekly Vinyl Wednesdays. Eater lists it among Detroit's best bars and best coffee shops, so the same table does double duty.

Café Zamora is a small coffee shop on Powell where the beans come from the family's own farm in Guatemala, which makes "single origin" feel less like a menu term and more like a family tree. They roast on Tuesdays, so the bags on the shelf are fresher than most of your groceries. There are a few tables, a few counter seats, and an owner who'll chat while he pours, which is how first-timers turn into regulars.

Calafia is a pink-lit cantina in Portland's West End, the sort of room where everyone looks like they've had a good week. The menu is Mexican by way of Baja, San Diego, and the Maine coast, so the fish tacos and the Jonah crab churros are both doing local work. Cocktails lean agave, including a tequila take on the sweetened condensed milk citrus smoothie. Expect dinner prices, and a dress code of whatever flatters pink light.

Calico is a casual Italian restaurant on Moose Wilson Road, tucked between Wilson and Teton Village, with a patio and a big fenced lawn where kids roam while their parents stay seated. A garden out back supplies some of the herbs and produce, which is a nice touch for people who like knowing where their basil spent the summer. It's on The Infatuation's list of top Jackson Hole restaurants, and the jalapeño margaritas draw their own following.

Camp Outpost is a casual counter-service spot in Springdale built around a custom rotisserie, which turns out whole chickens for a camp plate that comes in under $30. The patio is big and the fire pit is communal, so strangers in hiking boots end up roasting s'mores together like a very low-stakes cult. Breakfast burritos and overnight oats cover mornings, and the whole thing sits right beside the Desert Pearl Inn.

Café de olla arrives in a clay mug at this Latin-inflected coffee shop tucked into a converted bungalow in Montrose. The traditional Mexican brew, steeped with cinnamon and piloncillo, is reason enough to visit, but empanadas and tamales with plantain chips make a reasonable case for staying through lunch. Laptops outnumber idle hands on most afternoons, and the horchata keeps the non-coffee crowd from feeling like an afterthought.

Cà phê trứng, the traditional Vietnamese egg coffee, is the thing to know before you walk in. Càphin is a Vietnamese coffee shop that graduated from farmers market food truck to its first permanent spot, bringing along the creamy egg coffees, pandan espresso drinks, and ube matcha lattes that built the following. Pastries come from Cardigan Donuts and Mogi Bagel, so the case pulls its weight too. Order ahead if you're in a hurry.

A maiz latte made with corn milk is either the thing that convinces you or the thing you have to explain to your friends later. This Mexican coffee shop sets up inside a Northside bar during daytime hours, serving a short menu of coffee drinks built around Mexican flavors, from Mazapán-infused espresso to matcha laced with Fruit Loops. It's a coffee shop that knows exactly what kind of fun it wants to have.

Carlyle Club sits on the Chicago River and runs a menu that can't decide between a steakhouse and a sushi bar, then declines to choose. Dry-aged steaks share the table with raw bar towers, handmade pasta, and a wagyu cooked over binchotan. There's a small sushi counter for the committed, plus hand rolls at the bar for everyone else. Expect an all-day, expense-account kind of room where a burger and a lobster pie coexist peacefully.