American diners have very little chill right now. Not literally (New Yorkers are eating fro-yo when it's 10 degrees) -but psychologically. We've never encountered so many people lining up across the country to try the new "neighborhood spot." Pastry cases are being cleared, pop-ups are extending into "residencies," and the good people of Los Angeles are swarming the sidewalk to eat...British food (?). Come, gather round, we'll tell you what we've seen.
Somewhere between truffle fries and fully loaded fries, we crossed a line. What began as indulgent extras has turned into a full-blown flavour arms race. Carrots arrive drenched in hot honey and chilli. Cabbage is glossed with XO. Potatoes are crushed, confit, fried twice, showered in herbs, spice blends and something crunchy for good measure. Sides aren't padding. They're flavour bombs, competing with starters and mains for attention.
There is an art to a proper meat pie, according to the Seattle chef and butcher Kevin Smith. The American pot pie frustrates him because it lets the pot do the heavy lifting. "The real way of doing it, for me, is to make a freestanding pie," Smith says. The pastry should hold itself up, a technique cooks in England have honed over centuries. "That is so much more theatrical."
When the gin and tonic glasses are drained, and the crab tostada and chimichurri-dressed steak plates are cleared from the table, customers can snake through the kitchen and descend candlelit stairs to an entirely different experience: Laberinto, an underground speakeasy. The theme at Laberinto, which means labyrinth in Spanish, is escapism - a micro vacation after the meal has ended where guests chat, flip through vinyl records, and sip Mexican spirits and liqueurs layered with notes of oregano, sage, and palo santo.
In 2024, DC got a slew of thrilling, genre-busting restaurants, from Dōgon to Pascual to La' Shukran to Moon Rabbit. This past year was different: more safe, less boundary-pushing. Major openings included copies and spinoffs of existing restaurants (Chai Pani, Lucky Danger) and Stephen Starr's revamp of the century-old Occidental. And 2025 closed out with two flashy new steak spots from big restaurant groups. Not exactly groundbreaking.
Elliot's in east London has many hip credentials: the blond-wood colour scheme, the off-sale natural wine bottles, LCD Soundsystem and David Byrne playing at just the right decibel. The menu also features the right buzzwords, such as small plates and wood grill. But first comes snacks. There are classics: focaccia, olives, anchovies on toast. But more creative options include potato flatbreads with creme fraiche and trout roe, mangalitsa saltimbocca with quince, and what became (and has stayed) the Hackney restaurant's signature dish since around 2012, Isle of Mull cheese puffs: plump, gooey croquettes filled with Scottish cheddar and comte, deep-fried until crisp and topped with yet more grated cheddar. Only two other dishes have never left the menu: fried potatoes with aioli and cheesecake.
Spots such as the minuscule clubhouse 4 Charles Prime Rib and Jon Neidich's the Nines, with its burgundy velvet and caviar-topped baked potatoes, helped to establish the template for a proper swankstaurant. The past few months have seen a rush of them - from the gaslight glow of Chez Fifi uptown to the latest Chumley's reboot, known as the Eighty Six, downtown - often coming from chefs and restaurateurs who had initially followed a more casual path.
Revelers were treated to a flavor-packed journey through two decades of dining, from the street-food-forward (spicy tofu-skin noodles from Xi'an Famous Foods) to the downright decadent (Tatiana's truffle-and-caviar-topped oxtail rangoons). Guests could also scoop a copy of Eater's very first, super limited-edition print magazine - packed with stories looking back on packed with stories looking back on all of the biggest moments of the last 20 years, from the cupcake craze to the rise of food trucks.
Buzzwords tend to bloom like algae in the restaurant world: a rash of " coastal Italian" spreading across one corner of the map, an eruption of " all-day dining " blanketing whole cities. Reporting on the food industry sometimes feels like being a field scientist, watching for subtle shifts in the ecosystem. Aha, a new one is beginning to flourish. See right there - the corn tortillas elegantly sheeted with roast meats, the citrus-heavy cocktails, the neo-retro design. The conditions have been right for some time.
The achar cart at Adda had just rolled up on our right, the wide mouths of the jars filled with pickles of mango, caperberry, and pepper gaping like hungry seals. To the left, the table next to us was enjoying the opening chords of the restaurant's coveted butter chicken service, selecting the wood chips that would smoke their chicken from a different cart.
When I'm scouting for Bon Appétit's annual Best New Restaurants list (coming soon!), I set my alarm about two hours earlier than I'd dream of waking up back home in New York. My "official" order of business is typically some buzzed-about dinner spot, but my greatest thrills these past few years have often come before noon. As American breakfast morphs and expands to encompass morning rituals the world over, our first meal of the day has become something we seek out and treat with deserved respect.
Menus are dominated by familiar favorites like goat cheese salad and avocado toast, leading to an acceptance of less culinary variety. Chef David Chang popularized Brussels sprouts, transforming them into a menu staple across various restaurants.
Giorgio Locatelli believes diners should prioritize real interactions over their phones, lamenting a decline in conversation during meal experiences.
