The Resy 100: Restaurants Around the Country That Define Dining Today

 This longtime anchor of Donald Link’s restaurant empire (Cochon, Herbsaint) remains dazzlingly fresh and fun at 15 — and if it feels familiar, that’s because it has spawned dozens of seafood-devoted lookalikes across the country. The menu is a bit more far-reaching these days, but staples remain, including the epic raw bar. Crispy okra, fried chicken with white barbecue sauce, and gumbo make clear you’re still very much in the South, and Gulf-proximate, but the kimchi that accompanies those oysters, or the sambal to enliven jumbo shrimp, show deeper themes at work. 

Matt Conroy and his wife Isabel Coss have created a postmodern chef dynasty in Washington, of the best sort. They springboarded their experience at some of New York’s top addresses (Cosme, Oxomoco, Agern) to take the helm of this refurbed Georgetown storefront, turning it into the quintessence of what the French today call the neobistro — exceptional food in a humble space. Lutèce has become a destination for bold, boundless French cooking: dishes like skewered duck hearts with a jus and mandarinquat — Conroy’s latest twist on duck à l’orange — or Parisian gnocchi with snails and fermented butter, or a steak tartare spiked with harissa. They’ve also taken a deep love of Mexican cooking to extend that finesse to Pascual, where pork belly carnitas are adorned with cherries and shiso (and that tartare comes with a peanut salsa). And their new Maison has added wine-bar glitz in the Adams Morgan neighborhood to their neobistro energy. It’s no surprise they have a devoted following.

Gregory Gourdet has been so busy on the East Coast (with Maison Passerelle, and more) that it’s worth taking a beat to remember the sheer beauty of what he created in Portland. Kann (like its downstairs bar Sousòl), folds together Gourdet’s Haitian roots, Northwest bounty, and a particularly keen sense of how fine dining should unfurl in 2025. A dish like striped bass in a marinade of Haitian epis, with fennel and peaches, or jerk cauliflower with sour coconut cream, is a good example of how Gourdet’s mind has delightfully combined these threads. And that so many of his dishes are quietly gluten-free or vegan (or both) is testament to how those notions can provide focus without being mere catchphrases.

In a way it feels odd that Mashama Bailey and Johno Morisano just celebrated the 10th anniversary of their restaurant, because The Grey also feels like it has been with us for a long time. Bailey’s cooking didn’t just catalyze a broader exploration of New Southern cooking, or put Savannah on the culinary map. Their work also spurred conversations about how kitchens are run, how cultures collide in coastal Georgia, how race is often an unspoken ingredient in that dialogue (it is, after all, located in a once-segregated 1938 Greyhound depot). But also, there’s spectacular cooking. A meal might start with country pâté with a Creole-inflected mustard, or some of Bailey’s remarkable gazpacho, and progress to a daily fish with summer produce and tonnato sauce, or a stew of field peas and okra. There are always oysters, Parker House rolls, and potato salad. There are always snacky options (seafood boudin, crudité with a buttermilk dip) and cocktails at the connected bar. And there’s always the sense that something timeless has been created in the Hostess City — an exemplar of hospitality done right.

The aesthetics of Nick Tamburo’s East Village space are indeed dark and close-in, more or less the polar opposite of the whitewashed, faded-blue driftwood aesthetic of your typical New England seafood joint. (The New York Times caught this, too.) But New England — namely southern Massachusetts, where Tamburo grew up, before cooking at nearby spots like Claud — is indeed the inspiration here. This yields an charmingly off-kilter remix of staples — chowder is reimagined as an irresistible sort of quahog-studded soupy risotto, a whole fried whiting may the most unabashedly anatomical fried fish you’ll encounter this side of Paris’ Clamato (yet it somehow has been liberated of its bones) — as well as some novel creations that will stick in mind. Consider the amberjack crudo with a fluffy, pungent halo of grated horseradish, or a stew of lentils and eel as brooding and deep as the ambiance. Add in the remarkable wine stylings of Nikita Malhotra (an alum of Momofuku Ko), currently a deep dive into Champagne, and you have the makings of a net-new standout that will surely inspire replicas far and wide.

We’ve long loved the work Suresh Sundas and Dante Datta have done at Daru, their “Indian-ish” project — which advanced the extraordinary culture of Indian cooking in D.C. in a playful, noncanonical way. (Think chicken tikka tacos.)  They’ve expanded that sense of whimsy with Tapori. The thesis is Indian street food, and if anything the new menu clings closer to classics … in theory. Vada pav, pani puri, and a goal dum biryani all land as relatively traditional, but “tapori” is Hindi for “rowdy,” which is where a mushroom pulao with basil pesto, or  scallop ghassi (a style of curry originating in Mangalore), come in. Ultimately Tapori is meant to be an ongoing party, a counterpoint to the town’s many haute Indian offerings.

Staten Island is the most gastronomically underloved of New York’s boroughs, which made it all the more notable when the New York Times in 2024 dropped a rave review on Shaw-Naé Dixon’s spot in the Stapleton neighborhood. Dixon opened her namesake restaurant to springboard from her previous work as a caterer, but soon enough, it would come to represent more — not just one of the best entries in the city’s neo-soul food movement, or a restaurant as personal and chef-driven as marquee names in Manhattan (although it’s both), but also a place that represents how the city’s fabric itself is shifting and evolving. Whether it’s her “Soul Fries,” a genius mashup of disco fries and nachos using soul-food staples, or a “Shaw-cuterie Board” that’s the wings platter you always dreamed of, a trip to enjoy Dixon’s cooking is utterly joyous.

There is no shortage of modern Mexican cooking getting attention today, but if Iliana de la Vega’s Austin spot isn’t quite as hyped as some, in fact it represents the full and complex journey so many great Mexican American chefs have made to get to where they are today. A Mexico City native, de la Vega went to Oaxaca to mesh the region’s traditions with some fine-dining flair, only to come north of the border and start over again. What would become today’s El Naranjo went through earlier iterations as a food truck (because, Austin) and a small operation in a bungalow, along the way tuning up the sort of prodigious flavors that de la Vega can create. That includes tortillas from house-ground masa, a profound Oaxacan mole negro, redfish-stuffed jalapeños in a tomato and labneh sauce, and more. It’s perhaps more subtle than some similar efforts. But that just reinforces the deep work that de la Vega, and now her daughter (and current chef) Ana Torrealba, have done to embrace traditional Mexican cooking while finding their own nuanced path to contemporaneity.

Kismet’s origin tale starts in Brooklyn, where Sara Kramer and Sarah Hymanson mastered their interpretation of Middle Eastern cooking. When they hit Pacific time, they embraced Californian sensibilities and folded them perfectly into their repertoire. So, yes, produce is front and center. But then there’s a braised chicken with black lime and long beans, served in a indulgent jus reminiscent of the epic one at D.C.’s Lutèce (witness the demi-glace comeback!) and a flatiron steak to remind you Angelenos are hearty carnivores. And don’t miss their “spreads” — the headiest meze, like green olive tahini with Calabrian chile — with a serving of malawich flatbread. It’s no surprise their cookbook last year was a hit: This is the quintessence of modern Cal-Med cooking.

The name probably gives away chef Cindy Wolf’s inspiration — namely the South Carolina Lowcountry. That Wolf is one of Baltimore’s great cooking talents doesn’t distract from that focus; she combines French training with coastal bounty, which to be fair manifests as well in Maryland as further south, hence a Maryland lump crab gratin, or a wild halibut with local corn and tomato relish, or for that matter cornmeal fried oysters with a cayenne mayonnaise — all of which explain why Wolf has frequently been lauded by the James Beard Foundation. But wine is the real driving force at Charleston, namely a nearly 60-page list by wine director Lindsay Willey that earned Beard kudos in 2025. Indeed, each menu item lists a potential wine pairing right below — with salmon carpaccio and pink peppercorns, you might try a sauvignon blanc from Cantina Terlan in Alto Adige. Willey’s tastes, if French-leaning like the cooking, are omnivorous and deep. All told Charleston shows how fine dining can not just endure but thrive even in these casual times. 

Steve Wong, Nico Russell, and Piper Kristensen’s compact Clinton Hill space is one of those New York spots until recently stuck in a taxonomic hard place: Was it a wine bar, or a restaurant?  Thankfully, it stuck around until the hierarchy itself changed — and now we can happily say … both! PdF, named for a metro station in Paris’ Belleville, channels the energy the trio brought to their pioneering fine-dining spot Oxalis, and Russell’s alchemy of flavors remain compelling — as with a sardine toast with smoked butter and kosho, which splits the difference between Iberia and Japan. Then there’s the wine list, which has migrated slightly from its early Spanish leanings (always curious given the French inspo) to include naturally-leaning charmers like Ami’s A-Miami Vice from Burgundy. There’s also still one of the city’s most thoughtful sherry selections, and witty twists on classic cocktails (a martini contains whey eau-de-vie). In all, it’s a most grown-up place that takes risks, and doesn’t worry about how it’s defined.

If you want proof of how Houston has become a magnet for big culinary talent, look no further than Baso. It’s the creation of Jacques Varon, who returned to his hometown after cooking in L.A. (for Joshua Skenes at Angler) and Tokyo, and recruited his Angler colleague Max Lappe (who also cooked at Dunsmoor, Rustic Canyon, and elsewhere) to open this tribute to Basque cuisine and live-fire cooking. The two bring common heritage (both Jewish Mexican) and a tremendous finesse to the cooking. And there’s lots more firepower on the floor, including GM Sarah Dowling, a longtime beverage and restaurant pro, and sommelier Evan McCarley, who finds a deft path between Iberia and France.

Parnass Savang and Rod Lassiter have quickly catapulted to the forefront of Thai American cooking with their Summerhill brick-and-mortar, a few blocks from the Braves’ stadium. Talat often feels a bit like the most thrilling sort of freeform experiment — starting as a pop-up, evolving into a no-reservations neighborhood joint, maturing with a great drinks program and more. But always, their focus is on how Thai techniques and flavors intersect with Georgia ingredients and Southern foodways. Georgia produce and other local bounty find their way onto the menu, as with peaches in a hamachi crudo, spiced peanuts, and of course Gulf oysters. This infuses their takes on classics (green curry with fried trout), and when you add in munificent Southern hospitality and on-message swag (check their trucker hats) you have a distillation of Atlanta energy circa 2025.

Some restaurants keep slipping between the cracks of fame, and Ned Baldwin’s Houseman feels like one. Baldwin opened his Hudson Square spot a decade ago, and it has never not been great, aided by a series of terrific cooks who’ve come through its kitchen. (Adam Baumgart of Oma Grassa, for instance.) The roast chicken remains one of New York’s best, the double-stacked burger is a stunner, and the rest of the menu shows a deftness with flavors that deliver precisely and without flourish — much like the menu itself, a perhaps inadvertent homage to London’s Quo Vadis. The latter is known for dishes that demand return visits, and Baldwin achieves the same, as with tiny fried whitebait with a tonnato sauce. We’d call Houseman an insider’s secret, except we want everyone to know about it, and enjoy it as much as we do.

The dynamic team of Paul Einbund, one of the Bay Area’s most knowledgeable wine talents, and chef Gavin Schmidt shifted their focus a bit with this East Bay ode to seafood. Their other restaurant, The Morris, aims a bit heartier and meatier; here there’s the opportunity to graze on duck-lobster mortadella and fried anchovies with poblano crema on the way to black cod with chanterelles or, yes, fish and chips.  But that’s just the start. Just as The Morris created a local legend with its elaborate roast duck, Sirene goes long on … fried chicken, here with a crisp buttermilk batter and dazzling sides like andouille gravy and an octopus kimchi sauce. And of course there’s the 30 pages of wine selections, assembled with an assist from wine director Alec Cummings, which go deep on substantial whites (a whole-page ode to California chardonnay) and light, bouncy reds. 

Greg Vernick remains one of the foundational lights of modern Philly cooking for good reason: He has a sixth sense of how Mid-Atlantic flavors can shine. That reveals itself clearly at his newer Vernick Fish, but his original spot remains packed, with good reason. Dishes like rock shrimp in a rice porridge with an accent of ginger show attention to both the edges of flavor and texture — in that case it presents like risotto but lands like very exquisite shrimp and grits. A celery root Milanese with a celery agridolce will have you paying homage anew to that vegetable. Small items “on toast,” like beef tartare with horseradish, could compose a whole perfect meal themselves. And the wine program remains one of the city’s best — a model of endless curiosity. The OG Vernick is a reminder that sometimes simplicity and a keen eye to detail can deliver more than whatever the latest cuisine du jour might be.

Pizza can do magical things, and nothing proves that like the booming success of Nkem and Kerrel Thompson’s Charlotte pizzeria.  The two hadn’t necessarily planned this path when they moved there in 2016, but one thing pizza can do is build community, and in the wake of the pandemic, that’s what the couple were seeking. So began a carry-out operation, which blossomed into a full sit-down spot. The pies fall somewhere between Northeast and Midwest in style (Kerrel is from Cleveland), and are charmingly minimal — really a choice of red or white sauce, with largely classic toppings, and a standout vegan pie. But the simplicity of that formula, again, seems to create magic, which is probably why Bird made the New York Times’ list of best pizzas in the country, and the Thompsons were lauded as 2024’s Charlotteans of the Year. Proof once again that we have become a nation with epic pizza in many corners. And in Bird’s case, success has come for all the best reasons.

Nikko Cagalanan started what would become Kultura as an itinerant pop-up, Mansueta’s, but as it has blossomed into one of Charleston’s most dynamic restaurants, Cagalanan has taken his renditions of classic Filipino dishes and finessed around the edges — as with the nonpareil quality of the yellowfin in his kinilaw, punched up with mint. A pork asado comes with a pineapple mostarda, and yes, that is chop suey on the menu, but here with scallops, coconut grits and a farm egg. 

Philly’s Bok Building is an improbable success story of urban renewal — a former technical high school converted into offices, community spaces, and, on the top floor, this moody series of rooms with raw concrete walls and perhaps the best view in town. It’s the backdrop for Michael Vincent Ferreri’s remarkable Italianate cooking, which folds in inspiration from Sicily, the Philly-Jersey red-sauce axis, and much more. Think swordfish with ‘nduja, mafaldine al limone, and one of the examples of best fritti misti you’ll encounter. It’s a deeply personal effort with nonpareil cooking (Ferrari also hosts Salvatore’s Counter, one of the city’s best and most intimate tasting menus) that’s also accessible for a quick weeknight bite. That balance is something Philly has perfected, and few do it better than Irwin’s.

Melissa Perello is nothing short of an icon in San Francisco cooking, having carved a path through the city’s best restaurants (Aqua, Fifth Floor) starting a quarter-century ago. And when her pioneering Frances opened in 2009, it was early on the curve of Michelin-starred chefs turning away from toques to cook something more intimate and personal. She followed that up with Octavia in 2015, and if the aesthetics of both restaurants feel familiar — that seemingly woodcut serif font, housemade sourdough top of the menu — it’s because she forged that path ahead of so many others. Perello, now joined by chef de cuisine Jack Irving, continues to show a mastery of the form, which is why a meal in this historic corner building still feels special, from the agnolotti dal plin with fines herbes to heirloom tomatoes with ricotta and umeboshi plums. There’s equal magic at Frances, and either way, a meal at Perello’s restaurants is a master class in great California cooking.

Miami is a town that loves its fusion cuisine, and certainly chef Raheem Sealey has that down to an art (from cooking at Pao and Zuma, among others, along with being the executive chef for the Kyu chain of restaurants). But for his own spot, he flexed a bit differently, incorporating smokehouse flavors and Caribbean notes, a nod to his native St. Croix. The result are dishes like his miso cornbread, with uni and salmon roe; or smoked ribs with furikake. And of course the Shiso chicken — half fried, half smoked, with a leek waffle on the side — plus handrolls, steak, and more. It all comes together because Sealey understands how to combine thoughtful cooking with Miami-level extra, and make it all work.

Pim Techamuanvivit has been a key figure in putting modern Thai cooking at the forefront of American dining, both with her lauded, casual Kin Khao, and upscale Nari. Nari is Techamuanvivit’s tribute, achieved with chef de cuisine Meghan Clark, to the women who have been foundational to Thai cuisine over the centuries. As Nari has matured, it has explored ever deeper into its Thai Californian connections, which is why the classic green papaya salad known as som tum here is rounded out with fresh corn and green tomatoes. Summer squash, nectarines, Monterey squid and beef from top North Bay supplier Flannery are all on the menu — and greens and herbs accompany many dishes. Wine director Sam Zelver’s selection supports the restaurant’s luxe vibes (a deep Champagne roster from Ulysse Collin and others) but never feels elitist (as with dry furmint from Hungary’s Szepsy), and beverage director Jackson Miller rounds it out with the same deep cocktail flavors that lifted up Kin Khao’s bar. No surprise many of the Thai American stars around the country — including some on this list — have Techamuanvivit’s pioneering work woven into their success.

There are flashy restaurant power couples, and then there’s Alex Raij and Eder Montero. The two have been running exceptional, and beloved, New York restaurants for nearly two decades, including La Vara and Saint Julivert Fisherie, both of which we crave on the regular. And then there’s Txikito, their homage to Basque cuisine, which now feels very au courant but was a pioneer when it opened some 15 years ago, when Basque cooking was still very much on the horizon and “Etxebarri” wasn’t common foodie parlance. Through it all, Raij’s intensely cerebral focus on flavor and contemporaneity haven’t wavered, which is why we’re here for the gildas (hot and cold), the arroz meloso with uni and wild shrimp, the boquerones with rau ram, and pretty much anything else Raij can dream up to put on a plate.

If Lula hasn’t quite gotten the shine of farm-to-table temples like Zuni Cafe, is it because it’s not conveniently on one of the coasts? Whatever the reason, Jason Hammel’s quarter-century of groundbreaking cooking more than deserves a spotlight. It not only catalyzed Logan Square as a Chicago dining nexus, but set a tone for a long boom of Chicago dining. And the inventiveness at Lula never stops, with dishes that sound simple (a buckwheat crepe with collard greens and local mushrooms, a beet and berry salad with tahini that’s homage to L.A. chef Jeremy Fox) but contain deep layers. Pro tip: Go for one of the now-legendary Monday farm dinners — always an incubator for what’s coming next.

Travis Lett seems to have a preternatural sense of what L.A. wants to eat, at least judging from the enduring success of Gjelina when he was there — and from the quick success of this new project. Here, Lett has turned his talents to an all-day Cal-Japanese izakaya, although that doesn’t quite capture what he’s up to. Yes, there’s meat grilled over binchotan, and his form of fresh ramen (manila clams with yuzu and chiles, in one recent bowl), plus gyoza and handrolls and all the expected items. But also a deep roster of produce-forward plates that reveal Lett’s true talents — baby bok choy with sesame miso, charred cauliflower with leeks, and so on. Indeed, the vegetables may have gotten the most notice here, which stands to reason when you think about how Lett’s skills made Abbot-Kinney a global destination for modern Californian farm-to-table standards.

When psychologist Jeanine Prime opened St. James in 2022, her goal was to pay tribute to her Trinidadian roots — but also to acknowledge how D.C. is a city built on many diaspora traditions. So there’s calaloo soup and oxtails with pigeon peas, but also Trini-style bao stuffed with ground pork, a paratha and roti platter with a bevy of curries, and seafood black rice that’s a gorgeous reinterpretation of paella. It’s yet more evidence that neo-Caribbean cooking is now a theme in American dining, a trend that’s both welcome and long overdue.

It’s exhilirating to see the boomlet of modern Hmong cooking in Minneapolis get national attention. Of course, the Twin Cities has long been a magnet for this ethnic group, predominantly from the remote hills of Laos, and the arrival of ambitious Hmong chefs has been a touchstone for a new chapter in American diaspora cooking. Both Diane’s Place, run by Diane Moua, and Vinai, run by Yia Vang, exemplify the evolution of this cuisine, which has long been popular in town in more casual forms. The diaspora threads are clear at Vinai: Vang named his restaurant for the Thai refugee camp where his parents met, and he was the first to bring Hmong food to the Minnesota State Fair. That makes him a salient ambassador to not just advance the cuisine but transform it. Thus, witness a laab carpaccio, or braised ribs with sour bamboo, or deviled eggs with a basil sambal and crispy shrimp. It’s all affirmation to how foodways evolve and deepen on these shores.

L’Echelle combines two longtime threads of Portland dining: a love of French cooking (Le Pigeon, St. Jack, etc.) and the remarkable talents of Naomi Pomeroy, who defined the soul of the city’s cooking back in the early 2000s. L’Echelle was her own homage to bistro culture — left in suspended animation when Pomeroy died suddenly last year. But it has returned, exuding the very Pacific Northwest energy that defined her previous restaurants, like Beast. The menu sticks to tradition: onion soup, a Lyonnaise salad, gnocchi Parisienne. But it’s all executed with an eye to freshness and subtlety that takes farm-to-table seriously but not preciously.

Having worked for José Andres and at El Bulli, Katie Button brought her talents to Asheville, and has been a driving force in making it a culinary destination.  She and her former husband Félix Meana run Cúrate very much inspired by their experience with Spanish cooking, and if “tapas” sounds straightforward, that doesn’t acknowledge the depth and complexity of the menu — much as is the case with Andres’ casual efforts. (They even serve chorizo and potato chips “José’s way.”) Sauteed greens are punched up with pistachio and pickled blueberries, lamb skewers come seasoned with Levantine spices from the local brand Spicewalla, and there’s their rossejat, a paella-like dish reminiscent of fidueà, with a heady seafood base. It all reflects how their Iberian sensibilities have found a perfect home in upcountry North Carolina.

We both are huge fans of what Tam Pham and Harrison Ramhofer are doing at Miami’s Tâm Tâm, and of the brief revival of the old Schnitzel Haus in the Shorecrest neighborhood. At least for the time being, said place and people have come together with Double Luck, an extension of Tâm Tâm’s old Sunday-night pop up. The food here is sometimes called “regional Chinese,” but the only region it seems to evoke is the psychedelic insides of the couple’s heads, in that the same vivid, party-vibe aesthetic at Tâm Tâm has been extended here with perhaps a bit more Chinese American kitsch. The menu is somehow simultaneously reverent (mapo tofu, tea-smoked duck) and gonzo (Hennessy orange chicken, the iteration of this dish you’ve always wanted) and because Pham’s talents are remarkable, the net result is party food that’s also deeply soulful.

The gang at Turkey & The Wolf were doing maximalist before maximalist was a meme — not just in their beloved sandwiches but their aesthetics. That also extends to their second restaurant on a busy stretch of Magazine Street, opened with former Wolf chef Phil Cenac. The name should tip you off to the dominant 1980s aesthetic (unless you’re literally the last person on earth not to have seen “Dirty Dancing”), and Lauren Agudo, Hereford’s wife and a partner, understood the assignment — which is to say this is like stepping into the dining equivalent of a Nagel print. But also, the food here reflects a similarly gonzo energy. It’s drinking food, semi-nostalgic but not trite, and meant to go with Carlos Quinonez’s cocktails: artichoke hearts on the half shell (think oysters Rockefeller without oysters), a meat-and-cheese plate (think Lunchables meets fancy girl dinner), grilled pastrami skewers with a red-wine marinade. And, yes, “indecisive snacks,” which is the kitchen’s choice of what it wants your table to devour. 

Corson was one of the restaurants to redefine Seattle’s Georgetown neighborhood, a generally industrial sliver just north of Boeing Field, as a destination. And what a destination — a leafy 1910 house with heated patios, the sort of verdant oasis that makes you forget you’re in the shadow of I-5. Current chef and owner Emily Crawford Dann and her husband Matt Dann have continued the charm from original chef Matt Dillon, and whether you opt for the prix fixe or regular menu, Crawford Dann will present that perfect distillation of PNW flavors: pork belly with peaches and Walla Walla sweet onions; a Caesar of radicchio, broccoli, and escarole; a stinging nettle and ramp risotto in a green-garlic broth. This style of cooking highlights the Northwest’s nonpareil ingredients, and few do it as beautifully as Corson.

While much of the attention chef Ayo Balogun has gotten was for his tasting menu-slash-dinner party Dept. of Culture, his more chill, bistro-ish Clinton Hill storefront is where you get a sense of how Balogun sees his Nigerian roots intertwining with other traditions, which is why he calls it DoC’s “Nigerian American cousin.” The one dish you’ll almost always find is pepper soup, of the sort extolled by the beer joints of Lagos, but the fiery spice mix suya will usually be present, often in an octopus dish, and thick, golden agege bread provides a base for remarkable braises. And yes, it feels like the sort of Brooklyn bistro where you can settle in for comfort. The food is comforting, too, and yet a unique expression of which flavors Americans might embrace next.

On the one hand, the fact that this cherished Oakland spot opened more than a dozen years ago just substantiates how groundbreaking it was — a trio of Chez Panisse alums taking that very East Bay farm-to-table sensibility and applying it to a dish whose deeper depths were just beginning to be understood on these shores. On the other, there’s still something thrilling and subversive to Ramen Shop. Where so many subsequent American ramen-yas have leaned into heartiness, here you’ll find a Meyer lemon shoyu ramen brimming with fresh vegetables. The tempura is made from baby artichokes; there’s a little gem salad and summer tomatoes with Jimmy Nardellos. And the cocktails remain savory and subtle, including an impeccable highball list. That the space is now a frequent host to collaborations and pop-ups of a whole new generation of Oakland cooks makes perfect sense. It was, and is, an incubator of the totally unexpected.

Aria has been around since 2000, long enough to have witnessed pretty much the entire arc of Atlanta’s dining boom. And the current new guard, led by longtime general manager Andrés Loaiza and pastry chef Kathryn King, has meshed with new chef Joseph Harrison, who came from Savannah’s Common Thread. The result is what Aria has always been — a fine-dining restaurant that never feels stuffy or trite, as with a crab cake with Old Bay seasoning, coconut milk and okra, or braised pork with chipotle jus and banana peppers. And its wine program, now overseen by Remy Loet, remains one of the Southeast’s best.

One of the low-key precepts of new Southern cooking is to put produce forward, and few do it better than Lobbyist chef Jimmy Gentry, as evidenced by the fact it’s the largest part of the menu at his restaurant in a historic hotel-turned-apartment building in downtown Memphis. Berbere, pickled lime, and aguachile show up as global accents here, and cauliflower is done char siu style, and the net result is a celebration of local bounty — as with okra and green goddess dressing (that’s where the berbere appears), or redfish in a tom yum preparation, or a dish of corn mash with squash that’s taken on a momentum of its own. 

If L.A.’s pizza boom has found inspo by looking east, William Joo found his by looking west — so far west that it’s east again. Which is to say the Korean-born, L.A.-raised chef built on his stints cooking in the city’s Italianate kitchens (Angelini Osteria, Pizzana) by indulging a fascination with Susumu Kakinuma’s Seirinkan, which essentially defined today’s Tokyo style of pizza. That style is often shorthanded as Neapolitan-inspired, but Joo is doing something different. There’s more structure to these pies than standard Naples fare, and while the typical range of pies is excellent (the Diavola is one of the best of its kind), it’s in his specials — and pizza omakase — that Joo shows how novel his approach is. Tuna-belly conserva, onion jam, provolone and kewpie mayo might form the base one night; a málà-spiced lamb sausage pie was a cult hit late last year. Sei, perhaps more than anything, proves the universality of pizza, and our love for it.

Casey Thompson has directed her considerable talent (cooking under Dallas legend Dean Fearing, plus at S.F.’s Aveline) to create this latest example of how hotel restaurants are reinventing themselves for the better. With executive chef Marcus Kopplin (formerly at Fort Worth’s Clay Pigeon), she’s devised a menu that draws on Texas vibes without going too far. There is, yes, beef, including a ribeye you can amend with garlic salsa verde or miso Béarnaise. But also avocado pizza with scallion aioli, a tomato-corn salad with jalapeño cream, and an eggplant schnitzel with a Ritz cracker crust. It all feels not too studied, a bold move in Dallas-Fort Worth’s often overtly glitzy dining scene.

A one-time 1930s motel in North County San Diego isn’t perhaps the most obvious place to find a former “Top Chef” star, but Claudette Zepeda and her partners Brittany Corrales and Jason Janececk have created a remarkable homage to Zepeda’s upbringing between Tijuana and San Diego, to her global travels, and to an aesthetic that’s somehow both midcentury modern and California coastal, which it turns out is the perfect mix for the seaside hamlet of Leucadia. There are dips to begin your meal — pita and crudité to go with whipped feta with a celery ceviche. Ceviche reappears in a rock crab tostada with serrano ponzu, and bigger plates move you into crispy chicken with a creamy mole, and a lamb shank pibil. Zepeda here is leaning into the particularly SoCal dialogue between Mexican cooking and so many other influences, in a thorough and unique way. 

The menu at Kid Sister is so compact — 10 items, including sides and dessert — that you might expect it to be as wine bars have been for a while: somewhere to graze and have a glass, and move on.  But the team here is up to something different. Owners Casey and Courtney Lewandrowski and their friend Dej Lambert clearly picked up the memo that wine bars can be — perhaps should be — more ambitious in their dining aspirations, and so most of the six plates on offer, from chef Isaac Mendoza, aim big: squash risotto (with optional crab), a half-chicken with black garlic for two. The wine selection hits all the contemporary corners, with a particular love for new-wave California and Arizona. In a city where dining can often feel performative — big portions, big egos — this is a beautifully local and human-scale effort that’s nothing but fun.

Seven years down the road, Nasim Alikhani’s narrow space just off Flatbush Ave. remains an in-demand table for good reason: She has not only created a rewarding and distinct interpretation of Iranian cooking, but also spurred a renaissance of that cuisine in the city, with such offshoots as Eyval, opened by her chef Ali Saboor. As always, you’ll want to start with some dips and small plates (the shallots and yogurt remain as eye-opening as ever), make sure you add in a salad, plus some rice (a side of tahdig never hurts) and one of the lavish main dishes — the beef stew with dried lime and herbs is a must, if it’s there, as is the deeply savory half chicken. Enjoy with some deft, fragrant cocktails, and take a beat to appreciate how thoroughly Alikhani’s creation has become part of Brooklyn’s dining fabric. 

Miami is in fact a spectacular place to find Middle Eastern food — it is a city awash in pita and falafels. But chef Raz Shabtai, a Jerusalem native, brought something different to the party. There is, ok, falafel on the menu — “1 perfect falafel,” to be precise, with tomato gel and za’atar — but Shabtai is focused elsewhere. As with his version of malfuf, or stuffed cabbage, with lamb ragù and tahini. Or the “fish of Mordechai,” grouper with barley, herbal jus and powdered Persian lemon. The lamb kebab incorporates ajo blanco and mint oil, and then there’s the “chicken liver dreaming to become foie gras,” with date honey and a pistachio crumble. (The menu is also kosher, though you’d never know unless you asked.) It is, perhaps, Shabtai’s homage to how Miami, like Jerusalem, is a true melting pot. 

We adore how Gregory Gourdet has transformed the view of Haitian cooking with his groundbreaking Kann; at the same time, there’s a lot to be said for how Charly Pierre has broken new ground — in very different ways — at Fritai. Pierre grew up just outside Boston and cooked in a string of the city’s top restaurants, but New Orleans presented a different opportunity. After working at the iconic Bayona, he and cofounder Minerva Chereches started Fritai as a food stall, exalting the casual street foods of Haiti. The result is playful and eyecatching, as with oxtail “nachos” with plantain chips, a crab mac and cheese, and his own (mostly) traditional take on griyot, the country’s beloved double-cooked pork dish. But that, the kabrit (double-cooked goat), and many other dishes come with diri kole, which you might know better as red beans and rice. Which is to say, Fritai uncovers nuances of the origins of some foodways that have defined the Crescent City since its founding.

“Modern Nordic” might mean one thing in New York or Copenhagen, where the Noma shadow looms large. It means something entirely different in Bismarck, where Huckleberry owner Chris Tello and chef Cody Monson, both North Dakota natives, have created their own interpretation of how prairie Nordic and German traditions might have evolved into the present day. Located in a, yes, very Scandinavian wood building on the banks of the Missouri River, Huckleberry has quickly become a model of not only Midwestern hospitality but also their perspective on how local home cooking might present itself in 2025. That starts with curried pumpkin knoephla (a local term for dumplings), smoked salmon rillettes with aquavit-cured cucumbers, and an onion fleischkueklem, a Mitteleuropean fried pastry, garnished with birch sap syrup. There’s a skagen salad of baby shrimp in dill cream, a walleye filet with vadouvan remoulade. And, ok, tots — or as they call them, hasselhoffs — with pork, sauerkraut, and a beer-butter sauce.

Having created some of the best bars in New Orleans (Manolito, Cane & Table), Nick Dietrich turned his sights on … Indy. To be fair, Dietrich brought at least a bit of NOLA energy to Fountain Square, with oysters Rockefeller and pickled shrimp. But there’s also more than a bit of Midwest in play here, as with a hearty plate of ham (ok, with grits) and a smoked whitefish dip, and of course beef Wellington on Sundays, which has garnered Magdalena its own devoted following. And then, yes, drinks — Dietrich is a master not only at the New Orleans classics, but at the sort of bespoke cocktails that feel like they’ve been around for decades. It’s a remarkable addition to a town that’s long exulted in its meat-and-potatoes vibes.

Sonoma Valley has struggled to keep up with the culinary ambitions of its fancier neighbor to the east, just over the Mayacamas range. But chef Ari Weiswasser and his wife Erinn Benziger Weiswasser have been leading the charge for more than a dozen years. Perhaps it was Ari’s brief time at the French Laundry (in that other valley) that provided inspiration, but the Star’s aesthetic has been very much the opposite of white-tablecloth. For one thing, “farm to table” here is literal: much of the produce comes from the family’s Glentucky Farm, grown by Erinn’s father, famed winemaker Mike Benziger. And the menu is quietly Californian without leaning into usual tropes: a panzanella with tomatoes and Persian cucumbers; standout pizzas (note the tomato cream pie, with both red and white sauces), a brick chicken with an urfa chile glaze and persimmon mole. That low-key loveliness is probably why the Weiswassers’ project (along with their sequel, the Italianate Stella) charms locals and visitors alike.

Mike Stankovich’s latest project both leans into a hearty Midwestern aesthetic and playfully tweaks it. Stankovich already charmed Cincinnati with his nearby bar Longfellow, and Mid-City builds on that popularity. The menu certainly feels amply Ohioan, including a “Mid-City Plate” that piles bratwurst, a frankfurter and porchetta with potatoes and sauerkraut; or fried smelts with a mustard-horseradish Hollandaise (!). But there’s also a deep bounty of produce, as with a daily vegetable tempura, or cold bok choy in a sesame dressing, and a drinks roster that leans into Teutonic vibes, sake, and riffs on classic cocktails.

Ayesha Nurdjaja’s nonstop party of a Middle Eastern restaurant opened with a bang in 2021, and was a smash hit. Four years later, it’s striking both how good it remains and how fun it still is — Nurdjaja is that chef who not only cooks great food but has a sense of how a great restaurant should come together. As such, Shukette perhaps presaged today’s “vibes first” approach. And the party continues, with a menu that progresses through dips and breads, and then small plates that are all irresistible, from fairytale eggplant popping with hot honey to Egyptian-spiced wings and a swordfish kebab with chermoula. The bigger dishes are a pleasure too, as with a half chicken marinated in yogurt with garlic sauce and shata. That it’s just a bit easier to grab a seat today makes it even more wonderful.

Renee Touponce seems to be on a one-woman mission to rewrite the boundaries of New England coastal cooking, not only with her more overtly seafood-y Oyster Club, located on a small Mystic street, but also with this homage next door to other ports of call around the world. Hence scallop mofongo (San Juan, P.R.) using local scallops and a tuna-chorizo XO sauce, boquerones using local smelts (San Sebastián, Spain), a banh mi with smoked tongue and pâté made with mushrooms from nearby purveyor Seacoast (Ho Chi Minh City), and a whole grilled fish with lemon-caperberry beurre blanc (Marseille). It all comes together with an exceptional roster of cocktails, organically-farmed wines, and, most crucially, Touponce’s understanding of how nearby bounty can be considered in new and exceptional ways.

Courtney Kaplan and Charles Namba’s Echo Park storefront is a template for what the modern izakaya was before it became a delightful Rorschach test for how we dine today. In fact, Namba, an L.A. native, had been cooking that way even before the couple came west to open Tsubaki in 2017 — namely at New York’s En Japanese Brasserie. So if the roster of dishes, like a chawanmushi with Dungeness crabs and truffle salt, or tempura from market-fresh produce, or a yuzu panna cotta with marigold flowers, feel like an infusion of modern (Californian, namely) sensibilities into the dining form, this is simply Tsubaki having been on the forefront. Equally, though, the restaurant is Kaplan’s love letter to the joys of sake. Over time she has become not only one of the country’s foremost experts but also a warm evangelist, making a visit feel like the most carefree masterclass in the drink’s delights.

Lenoir somehow simultaneously demonstrates deep ambition, while feeling quirky and quaint, as Austin was when it was truly still weird. That magic touch is thanks to Todd Duplechan and Jessica Mahe, who named it for the wine-grape rootstock found in the nearby Hill Country. That, plus the fact the backyard is the Winegarden, should tip you off to its reputation as one of Texas’ best spots to drink wine — and Erika Wong’s current list continues that, with German orange wine and New Zealand rosé and European classics, too. The menu always flirts with being Texan (chicken fried eggplant with baba ganoush, melon and tomato salad with watermelon nuoc cham) without ever being obvious, which sums up the Austin ethos pretty well.

The culinary language of Chez Panisse is so baked into American dining today that it can be easy to forget what a pleasure it still is to dine there — especially upstairs at the more casual cafe, which remains one of the Bay Area’s most perfect spots for a long, lazy lunch. The à la carte menu is a more approachable way to take in the Alice Waters gestalt. And if the dishes sound almost overly familiar, that’s because, as at Zuni Café on the other side of the bay, they’re archetypal for so much of what’s come after: duck with cranberry and romano beans, Andante Dairy goat cheese atop fresh lettuces, and of course the regularly changing pizzas, which more than hold their own with S.F.’s modern pizza bounty.  And yes, there’s still a bowl of fruit for dessert — in late summer it was mostly figs and pluots. Another famous chef once took umbrage with that, but let’s just say Waters has probably gotten the last word.

Vietnamese restaurants with extra flair have become manifest in plenty of big cities; Vien Dobui and Jessica Sheahan, though, decided to bring that outré vibe to Maine. It’s not just their vibrant space (or their eye-popping website), but also a menu that’s endlessly dynamic, as with salat nuoc mieng, or “mouthwatering salad,” with red-eye sauce, crispy rice, chile oil and more; or cured scallops with a fermented-tofu green sauce; or Rancho Gordo beans in a turmeric-lemongrass curry. Having started largely as a pho spot, they still make an exceptional version. But they also have finessed brunch (congee with mushroom broth and mochi, anyone?) and have branched out lately, with a new Cambodian spot, Oun Lidos, an indicator that the energy they brought to Portland’s dining scene shows no sign of waning.

Having a one-track mind is probably OK if that one track is focused on duck, and that’s certainly the case with Kevin Hickey. The Inn cosplays a neighborhood joint, but Hickey’s cooking is aiming for deeper channels. Duck, yes, is the star, in its myriad forms.  But there’s more at work here — Hickey’s “Decent Beef,” his version of a certain Chicago sandwich made famous again by a certain TV show. Also huitlacoche gnocchi with chanterelles, soft-shell crab with sweet chile sauce, and fried cheese curds with Bloody Mary ketchup. All told, it’s a whole new kind of hearty Midwest cooking.

It’s safe to say that cocktail culture would not be where it is today without Zig Zag. That’s not hyperbole — bartender Murray Stenson was an icon of the modern cocktail movement, reintroducing the classic Last Word to the repertoire — and creating genius efforts of his own. Stenson’s spirit remains strong here, with a current cocktail list that’s as vital as ever (Seattleites with weary legs will grin at the rye-based Hill Climb Punch) and a menu that’s ambitious without diverting from cocktails staying on center stage. Think shishito peppers with tangerine oil and pink peppercorns, or deviled eggs with Northwest-appropriate smoked salmon lox.

That the spread of new-wave Filipino cooking has come to Orlando is a perfect illustration of just how much momentum exists behind it. Chef Lordfer Lalicon and manager Jamilyn Salonga Bailey have created a special place near the central business district, seemingly a world away from the city’s attractions. In addition to an occasional set menu with tweaks on classics, like a mushroom sisig, à la carte offerings include a Filipino spaghetti with a Bolognese and spam, an adobo risotto, and a kare kare with oxtail and rutabaga. And the beverage program is snappy and thoughtful, with fashion-forward European wines and depth to the cocktails that would be impressive in Miami, or anywhere, frankly.

Doyers Street is for sure one of New York’s more atmospheric streets, a bent stub of a thing, smack in the midst of Chinatown. Perhaps that’s why it has received more than its share of attention, in part because of the iconic Nom Wah. But right next door, this postage-stamp sized wine bar has also garnered an astonishing amount of praise — with good reason. Annie Shi, one of the country’s most talented and engaging wine pros (and cofounder of King) built this as a way to tap into both her roots and her wine knowledge. The result is one of New York’s most flat-out charming haunts in years; a Chinese American menu that’s entirely sui generis (as with slices of celtuce in red vinegar, or slices of Jinhua country ham with seasonal fruit), matched with a remarkably curated list from Shi and her team. Champagne is clearly an object of desire here, with references from legendary (Jérôme Prévost) to underground (Crété Chamberlin), but that just prefaces deep cuts in Europe, California and even China. It all adds up to one of the quintessence of why wine bars are having a welcome renaissance today.

Southwark has quietly pioneered a lot since it opened in 2004. It was one of the first spots to usher the modern cocktail revolution into Philly; it pioneered Queen Village (and specifically its Southwark subneighborhood) as a dining destination; and current owners Chris D’Ambro and Marina De Oliveira have not only deepened all that, but broadened their reach with neighboring Ambra, and with the talents of Jamie Rubin, one of the city’s top wine pros. D’Ambro’s Italianate cooking sounds deceptively simple — bucatini with clams and green garlic, yellowfin tuna with an almond romesco — but the precision and depth of flavors are remarkable, as are the beverages. A solo dinner at the bar remains one of the city’s great pleasures.

This Mission restaurant could have captured notice simply for its commitment to a modern interpretation of Chamorro cuisine, from the island of Guam. But chef Shawn Naputi and business partner Shawn Camacho had bigger plans, namely to thread in the remarkable dining culture of the Bay Area. The result was Prubechu, which seems to both represent the hybrid food culture of Guam and the Mariana Islands, as well as S.F.’s ability to embrace wonderful culture clashes, as is also the case with Liholiho. A dish like roasted Japanese yams with the spinach-and-coconut-milk sauce known as golai hagon suni, plus caramelized soy sauce, both references tradition and lands somewhere totally new. Same with tinaktak, a coconut-braised beef dish with egg noddles and long beans, or their version of the Chamorro staple tamales gisu, steamed in banana leaves.

We love how chef Jason Vincent has been combining the improbable at his Logan Square restaurant Giant since 2016, with eternally memorable dishes like his saffron tagliatelle with crab and chile butter. But there’s something we simply can’t resist about Chef’s Special, his sequel project. The concept sounds familiar now only because it’s been widely repeated: exceptional cocktails and Chinese American food. That could be a gimmick (although one that pays homage to the cherished tiki-ish tradition of Chinese restaurant cocktails around the country) but the kitchen here soars. The mapo tofu is heady, walnut shrimp are surprisingly subtle, and the egg roll is one of the best of its kind.

Birmingham has been a crucible for a lot of great cooking over the years, and Rob and Emily McDaniel’s restaurant is the latest to add to the city’s depth of restaurants. Rob cut his teeth cooking at local icon Hot and Hot Fish Club, as well as at SpringHouse, on nearby Lake Martin, and this was opened in tribute to his grandmother Helen. You might surmise that his grandparents loved steak, since that forms the core of the dinner menu — six different cuts, including a smoked bone-in short rib, plus hearty cuts of lamb and pork. But that doesn’t acknowledge the whole grilled Gulf cobia and flounder, or the Alabama tomato pie with pimento cheese, or lima beans with a breakfast-sausage vinaigrette, or wine director Sam Patton’s deep cut of bottles. It’s all further evidence that New Southern cooking  continues to evolve and deepen.

The answer to where Misti Norris, landed after shuttering her groundbreaking Petra and the Beast, was answered earlier this year. She reappeared at this East Dallas restaurant, cooking an eclectic but thrilling menu. Norris’ signatures are still evident, if perhaps in quirkier form — the commitment to pickling, to using end bits and local ingredients. Corn fritters tinged with annatto and served with tomatillo jam feels like the kind of dish that breathes Lone Star energy, to say nothing of a Texas chuck flap with beets, radishes and a pickled hull bean salad. This is personal, thoughtful cooking of the highest order, and Norris’ return has made Dallasites very happy.

Consider this the creation of a supergroup of Detroit restaurateurs: Ping Ho and Sarah Welch, who opened Marrow, where Welch built a menu (and a butcher shop) around sustainably sourced meat; and Kiki Louya and Rohani Foulkes of the the popular all-day café Folk. (Ho also owns the downtown wine bar The Royce.) More specifically, Mink was the answer to how the Marrow team wanted to take their sourcing-first approach and apply it to seafood. This comes through in a deft selection of oysters and tinned seafood, but mostly via a constantly shifting tasting menu. In summer, it might include a curry-spiced gazpacho with pickled shrimp, a bacalao stew, and scallops with maitake mushrooms and tomato jam.

This tiny jewel of a restaurant on Charleston’s East Side is where Bintou N’Daw and her husband Tracey Young bring their view of Senegalese cooking to the Lowcountry, which historically has strong and complicated ties with West Africa. But what might make Bintü truly stand out is how it mixes a notable casualness with N’Daw’s classical training (she originally came to town to work pastry at Chez Nous) and roots, which also include French heritage. A dish like her shito spicy crab rice could easily present as a staple of the South Carolina coast, but it more reveals how local flavors have origins across the waters — and also shows N’Daw’s remarkable skill at balancing bold flavors. Indeed, Bintü overall shows how American flavors have complex roots — and stand to only grow more compelling.

Sameer and Samy Eid built their restaurant Phoenicia, in suburban Detroit, into one of the country’s landmarks to Middle Eastern cuisine — but when it came to opening Leila, as a follow-up in 2019, they leaned more overtly into their Lebanese roots, and into contemporary design, at a time when Beirut was becoming a font of cool. Leila still very much exudes that sensibility — with classic meze (hummus, labneh) but also a version of lemon-pepper wings, and sujuk, a fiery Armenian-style sausage, and baby back ribs sitting aside a shish kebab on the menu. Sameer passed away in August, leaving behind a tremendous legacy — one that his family is poised to keep growing.

The diversification of the Texas barbecue canon in recent years has been truly exciting, as with the arrival of Blood Bros. in Houston, with its panoply of Asian influences. But Patrick and Fasicka Hicks brought something truly unexpected to the roster with Smoke N’ Ash, born out of their pop-ups and trailer smoking. Their Ethiopian inspo shows up all over the menu — not just in, say, their chicken rubbed in awaze, a spice mix of chile powder, nutmeg, and more, but also the use of injera for nachos and for firfir migas, thus looping Tex-Mex into their fold. There is sweet potato pie inflected with berbere, and yes, “Tex-Ethiopian” platters, as well as classic rib tibs and sausage. The writer Lolis Eric Elie once posited that barbecue was a great uniting force; the Hickses show that thesis continues to be true.

There are plenty of great chefs rewriting the Midwestern playbook; Wright’s isn’t aiming for that. It is, instead, proving that the classic charms of a steakhouse done well hold a deep psychic power, which is probably why it’s a perennial fave among St. Louisians. To wit: a wedge salad with Maytag blue, oysters with Old Bay saltines, a French dip with Havarti and horseradish cream, and of course sublime steaks, including a 20-ounce ribeye with mustard jus. The deft cocktail list is equally traditional: martinis, Manhattans, old fashioneds, a dark-rum daiquiri. We’re all for reinvention, but sometimes doing the old things right is all you crave.

Since its opening in 2014, Rintaro has demonstrated that the Bay Area ethos can transform nearly any cuisine. That chef Sylvan Mishima Brackett worked at Chez Panisse helps explain the Mission restaurant on its surface, but there are layers of curiosity and complexity that show the uniqueness of Brackett’s vision. The yakitori simply grilled over binchotan remain studies in pure flavor (get the chicken thigh with sancho), as do items simmered in dashi (the lingcod fish cake is a must), but there’s also his version of a tamago omelet, and the handrolled udon. Something is always restorative about the clean, precise flavors always on display, and yet the raucous heart of an izakaya is here as well — channeled through California’s plenty.

Steven Satterfield’s Miller Union remains at the top of the pack for Atlanta dining, but often less known is the talent of his business partner Neal McCarthy, who assembled one of the country’s great wine lists there. The obvious move, then, would be to open a wine bar — and Madeira Park is just that, harnessing two of the city’s longtime talents, plus sommelier Tim Willard. The chill format allows Satterfield to cook the kind of beautifully simple food he does best — leeks vinaigrette with anchovies, snapper with a celery-fennel remoulade, a bistro steak with a beet Bordelaise. And the wine program is a stunner, encompassing the avant-garde of old world and new — plus, yes, a roster of Madeiras that reveal their food-friendly nature.

The farm-to-table pizza era is well upon us, but few restaurants can claim to be as close to their sources as Annesso, located in a Fresno shopping center. This is not a pizzaiolo-out-of-water story: chef Jimmy Pardini is part of the third generation of a legendary San Joaquin Valley hospitality family, whose grandfather Albert opened some of the city’s iconic restaurants. (His father Jim founded one of the area’s biggest catering companies, supplying food for all Fresno State games.)  And Annesso itself is a spinoff of Jimmy’s Annex Kitchen, which already had a reputation for handmade pasta, and for its wood-fired oven. Here, too, pastas are made daily, a flex for something like rigatoni in vodka sauce. The bubbly, rustic pies evoke local bounty but not in a twee way, hence a Fresno State corn pie with chile oil. (And yes, there’s a pineapple pizza.) The salads, and starters like sprouting cauliflower with Calabrian aioli, remind you this is the very heart of farming country, with a long tradition of Italian red sauce. It’s a wonderful full-circle journey.

Nashville’s boom has been synonymous with a lot of dining as theater, or at least dining as event. Margot not only goes completely the other direction, but has been doing so for nearly a quarter-century, in a way that somehow seems out of time. Chalk that up to Margot McCormack’s ability to lean back to O.G. produce-first principles (literally, she was doing a Chez Panisse homage menu in late summer) while channeling those principles in a very 2025 way, thanks in part to current executive chef Hadley Long. 

Something about Work & Class’ hybridization of Southern, Southwestern, and Mexican flavors feels like a perfect encapsulation of Colorado’s complexities. Credit chef and owner Dana Rodriguez, a Chihuahua native, for finding a way to thread them all together at the edge of the Front Range, with a menu that offers shrimp and grits, plantain empanadas, achiote-tinged fried trout with tortillas, and lemon pepper chicken with Buffalo sauce. That curious nature extends to the cocktails, and in case we weren’t clear, this is very much meant to be a drinking establishment (literally with “stiff drinks and a square meal” as the motto). House cocktails combine clear, straightforward flavors, such as pomegranate, ginger, and thyme (with your choice of white liquor), or a tart cherry ranch water. There’s a sesame piña margarita on draft. Between that and the chipotle barbecue brisket, you should get a very clear, irresistible idea of how the modern West tastes.

Ohm Suansilphong knows a thing or two about contemporary Thai cooking, having cooked with the legendary David Thompson at Nahm in Bangkok, as well as opening as a chef at the irresistible Fish Cheeks (and opening the also irresistible Chiks Isan). His own project, in the northern reaches of Brooklyn, is quirky and thought-provoking in its menu, which draws on deep historical references in Thai cooking. You don’t need that background, though, to appreciate the fiery nature of his steak tartare, the delicacy of his rice omelette, and the lushness of his beef tongue curry.  And wine director James O’Brien (of Brooklyn’s Popina NYC, and one of the city’s great wine savants) has assembled a remarkable list, long on riesling, aromatic whites and fizzy things. It all makes Kru a spot that’s challenging and pushing forward the nature of Thai cooking on these shores.

“Thomas Keller does fried chicken” sounds about how you’d expect it to, and much the same as it did when Ad Hoc debuted in 2006. But in the nearly two decades since Keller’s informal, family meal-inspired space opened in Yountville, down the street from the French Laundry, it has not only become a part of Napa Valley’s fabric, but also perhaps served as a bellwether of where wine and wine country in general, and dining more broadly, has gone: more casual, less regimented, leaning into … fun? Ad Hoc still is a lot of fun, with its ever changing menu bending to the season and moment.  You might well find a flank steak, or pot roast, or a Kellerian version of onion dip. And almost always, yes, there’s still the buttermilk fried chicken, which has justifiably earned its legion of fans over the years. 

It’s hard enough to get to the top. To stay there, much less for 20 years, is nothing short of remarkable, in any city.  Yet that’s what Mike Lata has done with FIG (and then with The Ordinary), having more or less catalyzed Charleston’s rise as a dining powerhouse. And after two decades, there’s not a spot of rust on FIG — thanks not only to Lata but to his longtime chef Jason Stanhope, and now to current chef de cuisine Jillian Schaffer, an alum of S.F.’s Quince. The current menu is as exciting as any you’ll find anywhere. Flounder comes in a brioche crust with an artichoke dashi; there’s blue crab ravioli with a shellfish-tomato sauce and bottarga; a bouillabaisse with fresh-dug potatoes almost screams Lowcountry summer. And of course the wine program remains a benchmark, not expansive but with not a single errant note.

The studious look at Lucian may not be an immediate match for Buckhead’s party vibe, but Katie Barringer and Jordan Smelt have created a clean, well-lighted place that sits at the intersection of bibliophilia and great food. Barringer formerly ran the city’s beloved Cover Books, and has filled the walls with a deft selection of titles trending to design, art, food, and wine. (If it feels like the whole Phaedon catalog is here, you might not be wrong.) Sure, many restaurants use books as props, but these are to browse and buy. Meantime Smelt (ex Cakes & Ale) runs a great room, with one of the city’s top wine programs, and chef Jason Paolini’s plates are compelling studies in flavor — a bit French, a smidgen New Southern, but mostly just delightful, as with a bison tartare with a confit egg and bonito aioli, or risotto with sweet corn and winter truffle from Australia that’s the height of summer joy. This is the notion of “third space,” perfected.

While Shiva and Rick Di Virgilio’s Oporto has long been a standout in Houston for Portuguese cooking, their more recent restaurant takes inspiration from an unexpected place — Portuguese explorer Vasco Da Gama and his travels, namely to India. This explains elements that nod to southern India and especially Goa, as with gunpowder fries or prawns balchao, but the lines aren’t nearly so neatly drawn. The arroz do mar leans far closer to Iberia, and paella; aloo gobi bravas clearly bridges two cultures; the pizzas have a spiritual tie, perhaps, with L.A.’s Pijja Palace, although something like the lamb keema pizza, with tomato chutney and blue cheese, is entirely sui generis; pão buns are brushed with ghee; and the Mwanza yucca, its name a nod to the Tanzanian city, underscores the Portuguese presence on another continent entirely.  

This most curious mashup of ideas comes from chef David Ellis, who has combined his love for pasta, a British fondness for seafood (he grew up in Stoke-On-Trent) and his years at Poole’s Diner, one of Ashley Christensen’s mainstays in Raleigh, into this quaint and remarkable space in the Warehouse District. The bent certainly is Italian-ish, with handmade pasta at its core — triangoli and mafaldine and cavatelli, oh my — but there’s a deep fondness for North Carolina ingredients, as in the summer squash that goes with mezzelune. A confit duck leg with a bourbon glaze and vegetable cassoulet, and Outerbanks scallops with grape tomato salsa, certainly reveal some of those broader influences. And the attached market sells tinned fish, plus the house’s pasta to cook at home, wine, and grab-and-go sandwiches.

Sonoran cooking might imply a Mexican lens, but if you’re in Arizona, it can mean something else entirely — namely the unexpected bounty of the Sonoran desert. And Blaise Faber’s Valentine has devoted itself to that view since opening in 2020. Currently under the hand of Nico Zades, who stepped in when chef Donald Hawk left this summer (but not before snagging a James Beard nomination), the cooking here is hard to describe as anything but Sonoran — or perhaps New Arizonan, if you like. There’s a hearty pretzel made from Sonoran wheat to start, served with local honey; oysters come with a michelada granita and hoja santa dressing; a New York strip comes with tepary beans punched up with pork belly and green chiles, and a squash salsa verde. It all adds up to a lovely execution of what might be dubbed postmodern rancho cuisine, with the improbable but extraordinary agriculture found in southern Arizona’s high desert.

L.A.’s Koreatown is a paradise of wonderful if sometimes slightly faceless cooking — soondubu and KBBQ are not, on balance, chef-driven dishes. Soban is different. In part, it’s because it’s a family affair, with the Paks a very visible presence in both dining room and kitchen. The menu is traditional, but also personal — with produce from local farms and even the family’s backyard. As much as it can feel trite to say that a personal touch matters, that is very much the case at Soban. It’s not just that their braised galbi are exceptional; it’s that each dish feels like a specific interpretation of a classic recipe.

Wisconsin’s supper clubs have become fodder for revival, and Shaina and Joe Papach leaned into that, opening right behind Madison’s train depot. But they also drew on the legacy of Fred Harvey, who built a hospitality empire around America’s growing railroad network. Harvey Houses once were spread across the West. The Papaches may have slightly upped the offerings (doubtful Harvey’s originals served nitro stout from Green Bay, or a shaved vegetable salad) while remaining very true to that supper-club sensibility. To start, there are martinis, shrimp cocktails, kielbasa in a blanket and, yes, a relish tray; from there you can move into rigatoni with a beef ragu, or a chicken schnitzel. Wisconsin’s capital has long had a tradition of standout dining; this is part of the latest chapter.

The team at Galit has been charming us for years with their interpretation of Middle Eastern cooking, and some of the best hummus in Chicago (and possibly the country). And now Zach Engel and Andres Clavero have followed it up with this new entry next door. By day Yaya fulfills its cafe vibes, including with sandwiches and pastries. By night it feels like a more freeform riff on Galit’s cooking — with Mediterranean as a baseline but also French and Southern accents woven in. Thus pimento cheese sits next to black garlic tehina among the dips, a tomato salad comes with Comté and baguette croutons, there’s chow chow for a pork schnitzel, and duck confit with lentils. (And even a lunchtime version of a jambon fromage!) And the team is also happy to blur the lines between meals, with a “golden hour” in the afternoon, in case you want a late lunch — or to start cocktail hour early.

Chef Nick Zocco and his team have brought a finessed sort of New West flair to Salt Lake City with this expansion of Park City’s much-loved Hearth and Hill. With nearly 200 seats, it’s a big, ambitious project, with big flavors to boot driven by a wood-fired grill: steak tartare with bacon aioli and salt-and-vinegar chips; a tomahawk-style pork chop with a foie gras Bordelaise sauce; mac and cheese with Hatch chiles; and, to further underscore Zocco’s New Mexican roots, yes, there is the lump crab chile relleno he made on “Beat Bobby Flay.” Add in a witty cocktail list (the Mom’s Mercedes blends Tequila, pine liqueur and tomato gum syrup) and thoughtful wine program from sommelier Katie Forstner, and you’ve got the makings of an A-list destination.