The One Food You Should Travel for in Each State

This story is part of Afar’s America 250 coverage, which includes articles, podcasts, and social media storytelling.

Few topics get people as passionate (and heated) as regional foods, which can make putting together a list like this a daunting task. We’ve collected 52 foods from across the U.S—one for every state, plus Puerto Rico and Washington, D.C.—and we’re celebrating everything from wild ingredients to immigrant staples, historic dishes to viral newcomers (we’re looking at you, Utah’s dirty soda!). But more than simply a bite to eat, this list celebrates the transformative power of cuisine and the restaurants, roadside stands, markets, ingredients, and experiences that are truly worth planning a trip around. That might mean foraging for huckleberries in Montana or spruce tips in Alaska, immersing yourself in the Burmese community of Indianapolis, setting out on a taco crawl in Texas’s Rio Grande Valley, or joining formerly incarcerated men in Hawai‘i as they prepare a restorative meal in an underground imu. Read on, get hungry, and start planning your next food-focused adventure.

The Midwest

Photo by Jeff Marini

Illinois: Italian beef sandwich

Chicago’s bench of iconic foods is famously deep (see: pizza, hot dogs), but since the premiere of the Emmy juggernaut The Bear, all eyes have been on Italian beef sandwiches. For the dish, thinly sliced roast beef is piled atop French bread and layered with peppers (“sweet” bell or “hot” pickled giardiniera), and then the whole thing can be optionally dunked into au jus, resulting in a soggy-delicious concoction that’s something of a pre-dipped French dip. Al’s Italian Beef, which opened in 1938, takes claim as the sandwich’s originator, though Portillo’s has become a ubiquitous chain with locations all over Chicagoland and beyond—not to mention design-forward merchandise like an Italian beef diagram T-shirt and a “Giardiniera” Champion sweatshirt. TV lovers should make the pilgrimage to Mr. Beef, which serves as the inspiration for The Bear. But don’t worry that this decades-old institution has gone Hollywood: It’s still a no-frills lunch counter with a communal table and walls lined with framed photos. (You can learn more about the show on the 3.5-hour Yes Chef! Chicago: A Bear-Inspired Food Tour, which stops at restaurants featured on the series.) Because of the city’s culinary pedigree, Italian beef has also proved a ripe starting point for experimentation: Its flavors show up in a carpaccio at Dimmi Dimmi Corner Italian, egg rolls at the Egg Roll Factory, bao at BiXi Beer, a fusion banh mi at Phodega, and even a giardiniera-topped shaved pork adobo and longanisa sandwich at cult Filipino spot Kasama. —Nicholas DeRenzo

Photo by AltairSe/Shutterstock

Indiana: Burmese tea leaf salad (lahpet thoke)

A textural three-ring circus, buzzing with the astringency of its fermented star, Burmese tea leaf salad deserves a spot in the salad hall of fame. But while Thai restaurants pepper the U.S. in large numbers, the food of neighboring Myanmar is often difficult to find—but not in Indiana. Indianapolis, the state capital, is home to the country’s largest Burmese population, earning the city the nickname “Chindianapolis,” because the community is heavily made up of members of the Chin ethnic minority. Each of the city’s dozen-plus Burmese restaurants offers a unique version of the country’s glorious ode to color and crunch. In most, the tea leaves share the tray with composed piles of crispy fried pulses (such as split peas), shredded cabbage, plump tomato chunks, and a shake of sesame seeds, on menus that also include classics such as mohinga (fish noodle soup) and goat curry. Many of the restaurants—like Chin Brothers and KhamBawi—also operate small markets, selling fermented tea leaves or salad kits so you can make your own at home. Continue your Burmese cultural exploration at the intersection of U.S. 31 and Edgewood Avenue, where queer refugee and artist Yan Yan has painted a signal box with cultural icons like a Shan drummer, yoke thé (marionette), and Chheih Lam dancers. A few blocks away, at the newly opened Top Point Royal Café, you can get your tea leaf salad, an espresso, and stickers of Yan Yan’s artworks. —Naomi Tomky

Iowa: breaded pork tenderloin sandwich

Think of the breaded pork tenderloin sandwich, or BPT, as a Midwestern answer to the Wiener schnitzel. Both Indiana and Iowa lay claim to the invention, a pounded, deep-fried piece of pork that, as a rule, spills out over the edges of its much-too-small hamburger bun. Each year, the Iowa Pork Producers Association crowns the best sandwich in the state, with the 2024 prize going to Dairy Sweet in Dunlap, a small town two hours west of Des Moines, and Ruby’s Pub and Grill, in Stuart, taking the runner-up slot. For a side of history with your pork, head to the 2012 contest winner, Breitbach’s Country Dining, which opened in 1852 and ranks as the state’s oldest restaurant; the current iteration was rebuilt after a destructive 2007 fire and named a James Beard Foundation America’s Classic in 2009. On the other end of the spectrum, in Des Moines, Angry Goldfish Pub & Eatery breads its tenderloin with sriracha Goldfish, and the upscale Centro tops its variation with Niman Ranch ham, bacon, pepper jack cheese, red onion, garlic mayo, and a sunny-side up egg. Or keep it simple and go straight to the source: The Iowa Pork Producers Association runs the Iowa Pork Tent at the state fair every August, churning out thousands of these sandwiches not far from grandstand concerts, midway rides, and the famed butter cow sculpture. —ND

Kansas: bierock

You might think of bierocks as prototypes for Hot Pockets: These soft, round buns filled with beef, cabbage, and onion were brought to the prairie in the 1870s by Volga German Mennonites, created as portable lunches for men working out in the fields. (Across the border in Nebraska, they’re rectangular and called runzas.) Bierocks are ubiquitous these days, found across the state, but if you want to dive into the past, present, and future of bierocks, make your home base in Wichita. The no-frills, drive-through-only M&M Bierock has been going strong for more than 50 years, but the city is also home to newer additions: Want Bierock Co., a food truck serving bierock filled with brisket, pork and sauerkraut, and breakfast sausage; Prost, a German spot that serves its with potato salad or warm red cabbage; and Bierocks Babe, who sells at the local farmers’ market. Because bierocks travel exceptionally well, stock up on a few and go explore German immigrant heritage about 2.5 hours northwest in Hays at the Ellis County Historical Society. —ND

Photo by Bruce VanLoon/Shutterstock (L); photo by GPritchettPhoto/Shutterstock (R)

Michigan: Detroit-style pizza

For a time, Michiganders were the only ones who knew the delicious secret of Detroit-style pizza, but in the last decade, these rectangular pies have spread across the country. Derived from Sicilian pizza, the dish begins with a thick, oily, crispy crust, which is then layered with Wisconsin brick cheese and topped with a tangy tomato sauce. The style traces its origins to 1946 at local pizzeria Buddy’s, which baked its pizzas inside forged-steel pans taken from one of Motor City’s many automotive plants—resulting in the trademark crisp cheese that lines the perimeter. Reflecting Detroit’s growing Arab and Muslim populations, with thousands of immigrants coming from places like Yemen, Bangladesh, and Lebanon, area chefs are putting their own spin on Detroit-style pizza: Detroit Pizza Factory, owned by the son of immigrant parents, offers a chicken shawarma pizza with chicken, dill pickles, red onions, mozzarella, and garlic herb sauce, while Amar Pizza adds Bangladeshi-inspired toppings such as naga sauce (made from a superhot chili), tandoori chicken, and “dry fish,” made with dried shrimp, roasted garlic, onions, cilantro, and spicy fish paste. —Devorah Lev-Tov

Minnesota: wild rice

The North Star State has more natural acres of wild rice than any other in the U.S. Hand-harvested by Indigenous peoples for centuries, manoomin (Ojibwe for “good seed/berry”) is woven into the culinary and cultural fabric of Minnesota. In Roseville, a Twin Cities suburb, the annual Wild Rice Festival in September celebrates the fall harvest with demonstrations, taste tests, and a habitat exhibit. The Gatherings Café, at the American Indian Center in Minneapolis, serves bison and fish melts on wild rice bread, under the guidance of Anishinaabe chefs. For a truly immersive experience, book a reservation downtown at Owamni from chef Sean Sherman, aka “The Sioux Chef.” Here, chefs use wild rice in inventive, seasonal ways—alongside an elk patty, a duck egg, and gravy for brunch, for example, or puffed and served with dried berries. At Bûcheron, which won the 2025 James Beard Award for best new restaurant, venison loin is served with Minnesota wild rice, summer sausage, roasted apple, and celery root, while farther north, Bemidji’s Wild Hare Bistro sources wild rice from the Red Lake Nation and then folds it into blueberry muffins and wild rice salad sandwiches. If you’d like to buy some wild rice to take home, head to Birchbark Books, a Minneapolis shop owned by novelist Louise Erdrich, an enrolled Turtle Mountain Chippewa. —Katy Spratte Joyce

Photo by thenaturelad/Shutterstock

Missouri: pawpaw

The official state fruit tree of Missouri is the pawpaw, which grows wild across the Eastern U.S. but still remains unknown to many Americans. The custard-like fruit tastes like a mix between mango and banana and is rarely grown commercially, due to its short shelf life and tendency to bruise. As such, during its late summer/early fall season, the fleeting, fragrant fruit sends foragers into a frenzy. At Bennett Spring State Park, an hour northeast of Springfield, join the annual “Picking Up Pawpaws” contest and wander wooded trails in search of the elusive fruit (heaviest pawpaw wins). In the St. Louis metro area, the Ferguson Farmers’ Market hosts an annual Pawpaw Fest, with treats like pawpaw ice cream sandwiches from Sugarwitch, pawpaw kombucha from Confluence Kombucha, and pawpaw beer from Natural History Brewing Collective. Elsewhere around the region, Mainlander folds the fruit into a Taiwanese-inspired dessert sauce, while Farmhaus has featured a pawpaw profiterole with honeycomb and ricotta. On the western side of the state, Acre in Parkville pairs pawpaw ice cream with blackberry cobbler, while Kansas City’s 1587 Prime—a steak house co-founded by Patrick Mahomes and Travis Kelce—serves a cocktail called the Jet Chip Wasp, made with Missouri-distilled bourbon, house vermouth blanco, and pawpaw liqueur. —KSJ

Nebraska: American wagyu beef

Nebraska is one of the nation’s top beef-producing states, with more than three cows for every human. Beef has been a backbone of the regional cuisine for so long that there’s even a statewide Beef Passport (which involves checking in at different restaurants and meat shops for the chance to win a prize). Now, a new generation of chefs is sourcing and showcasing high-quality domestic beef, such as Nebraska-founded Imperial Wagyu; they raise American wagyu, a crossbreed of Japanese wagyu and American cattle that pairs buttery marbling with a more traditional Western beef flavor. Travelers can try it at Semo in Fremont as Bolognese, at Marrow in Gretna in a Thai steak salad, and at numerous spots across Omaha, including Kitchen Table (fancy hot dog), Gather (tartare), and Heirloom Fine Foods (short rib empanadas). Cure, an exceptional butcher shop in Fort Calhoun, uses the beef in everything from Coney Island–style chili sauce to chorizo, boerewors (South African sausage) to ramen bone broth. But the most famous current American wagyu dish in the state is also the most unexpected: At his renowned Omaha sushi spot Yoshitomo, chef David Utterback uses it in his signature bite, the “prairie tuna,” a delicately torched piece of Imperial Wagyu strip, topped with sea urchin butter and caviar. —KSJ

Photo by Sentelia/Shutterstock (L); Courtesy of Prairie Kitchen (R)

North Dakota: lefse

Nearly one in four North Dakotans has Norwegian heritage, the highest concentration in the U.S. Come holiday season, the vast majority of them will probably be cooking and eating lefse, a beloved flatbread made with finely riced potatoes and cooked on a specialized griddle with a wooden stick for flipping. In its simplest form, lefse is often cooled, spread with butter and sugar, and rolled into little tubes for eating. Freddy’s Lefse, a Fargo staple since 1946, sells fresh lefse from its big blue warehouse on Main Avenue and distributes throughout North Dakota and Minnesota. (It also has killer merch.) You can also find its lefse on the menu at the hip Nordic comfort food spot Prairie Kitchen in both sweet and savory preparations—the former with whipped butter, rhubarb jam, and cinnamon sugar; the latter with dill pickle spread, smoked honey-cured salmon, and arugula. Check the calendar at the 1889, a cooking school located in Fargo’s oldest building, for occasional lefse-making classes. Bonus: Just across the state border in East Grand Forks, Minnesota, blogger and cookbook author Molly Yeh occasionally serves lefse-wrapped local hot dogs at her café, Bernie’s. —ND

Ohio: pierogi

In the late 1800s, when Polish immigrants arrived in Cleveland, they brought with them a taste from home: the beloved pierogi. These unleavened dough dumplings can be savory (potato, cheese, ground meat) or sweet (berries, sweet cheese), boiled or fried—but no matter the filling or preparation, they’re simple and deeply comforting. They’re such an important part of Cleveland’s culinary identity that the city celebrates the plump parcels with an annual Pierogi Week, from late January to early February, during which area restaurants turn out their own creative riffs: Think Great Lakes Brewing Company’s zippy Korean version, garnished with house-made kimchi, a Korean BBQ sauce, and sesame seeds, or Nano Brew’s potato-cheddar pierogi topped with chorizo chili, scallions, and chipotle sour cream. Though there’s a laundry list of establishments doling out terrific takes, locals stand by West Side Market’s Pierogi Palace, a family-run counter that’s been hand-making over 200 varieties of pierogi since 1995, from chicken paprikash and Swedish meatball to prune and pumpkin cheesecake. Unique versions are also the claim to fame at Jukebox, an unassuming Ohio City pub where the vegan buffalo chickpea is a best seller. —Katie Chang

South Dakota: chislic

Declared the state’s official “nosh” in 2018, chislic is a humble dish that traces its roots to German-speaking immigrants from Russia: It comprises skewered lamb or mutton chunks (though venison, beef, or even pheasant have emerged as alternatives) that are then grilled or deep-fried, often seasoned with garlic salt and served with saltines—and that’s it. The bar snack is most often associated with the southeastern stretches of the state, an area that’s been lovingly dubbed the “Chislic Circle,” with the town of Freeman hosting an annual South Dakota Chislic Festival each summer. No-frills taverns like the roadside Meridian Corner outside Freeman or the Red Rock Bar & Grill in Rowena are the preferred venues to try chislic alongside some ice cold beer and an arcade game or two, but you’ll also find clever adaptations of the dish around the state: At Rapid City’s Bokujō Ramen, for instance, Food Network host Justin Warner adds chislic to bowls of gyokotsu (or beef bone) ramen, on a menu that also includes roasted bison bao buns. —ND

Photo by Kelly Avenson/Destination Door County (L); photo by Have Clothes Will Travel/Shutterstock (R)

Wisconsin: fish boil

The Door County fish boil is a quintessential summertime dinner and a show, something of a Great Lakes answer to the New England clam bake. The tradition was born in the late 1800s among Scandinavian settlers as a way to feed large groups of lumberjacks and fishermen. In a cavernous kettle over an open fire, Lake Michigan whitefish boils with baby red potatoes and sometimes onions. When the fish oil has risen to the surface, the cook throws kerosene on the fire, causing a “boil-over,” during which the greasy, foamy impurities splash out of the pot and a showstopping fireball signals that it’s time to eat. Simple and unadorned, the whitefish is often served simply with melted butter, lemon wedges, coleslaw, bread, and a slice of cherry pie. Since the 1960s, fish boils have become a popular part of a Door County vacation, usually running between May and October, though many places continue with a reduced schedule during the chillier winter. Area favorites include Pelletier’s Restaurant and Fish Boil and the 1896 clapboard White Gull Inn in Fish Creek; Waterfront Mary’s Bar & Grill in Sturgeon Bay; and the Old Post Office Restaurant, which occupies an 1870s former general store in Ephraim. —ND

The Northeast

Connecticut: New Haven–style white clam apizza

Connecticut has declared itself the Pizza Capital of the United States—even adding the phrase to highway signs in 2024—and it has the receipts to back up the claim, with more than 1,370 pizzerias across the Constitution State. The self-guided Connecticut Pizza Trail, newly launched in October, lists the top 100 pizzerias, representing five different styles: Neapolitan, thick, tavern (which has a cracker-thin crust), Greek (a Connecticut-born style baked in a shallow pan), and especially apizza. That latter style, pronounced ah-beetz, has been a New Haven signature since 1925, when it was introduced by Frank Pepe Pizzeria Napoletana. It’s known for its thin, slightly charred crust, which is crispy on the outside and moist and chewy on the inside. The original tomato pie comes topped with crushed Italian tomatoes, olive oil, and grated pecorino Romano (no mozzarella!), but the order that people travel from out of state for is the white clam pizza. Current co-owner Jennifer Bimonte-Kelly says her grandfather, Pepe, invented the pie in the 1960s after a diner suggested adding his clams on the half shell to a pizza. “He topped them with olive oil, garlic, grated pecorino Romano, and oregano,” she says, “and a classic was born.” Today, you’ll find clam pies all over New Haven, including Frank Pepe rival Sally’s Apizza, which opened just down Wooster Street in 1938. You can try them both, plus slices from the beloved Modern Apizza, on the six-hour, 12-pie Pizza Lovers Tour with Taste of New Haven. —Susan Barnes

Photo by Leelahope Photography/Shutterstock (L); photo by Meredith Brockington (R)

Maine: lobster roll

Maine is synonymous with lobster rolls, and while you can find classic versions at lobster shacks up and down the coast, the state is also a hotbed for innovation. At Portland’s Highroller Lobster Co., you can order them topped with creative sauces like charred pineapple mayo, mango habanero mayo, or lobster-infused ghee, while Eventide Oyster Co.’s cult lobster bao has become the stuff of legend. Nearby, on the waterfront, Twelve offers a buttery take atop a hand-laminated croissant that can be added on to its prix-fixe menu for a $20 supplement. And butter also factors into the remixed roll at tapas and wine bar Sur Lie: lobster in black garlic butter on a popover, an homage to the popovers that have been served at Jordan Pond House Restaurant in Acadia National Park since 1893. If your trip takes you up to the park and the gateway town of Bar Harbor, you can learn more about the lobster-fishing industry with a tour aboard the Down East–style lobster boat Lulu. —ND

Photos by Emily Kan

Massachusetts: cod croquette

Portugal’s rising popularity as a tourism hot spot has brought a renewed focus to the Portuguese community in Massachusetts; members of the diaspora began arriving in the 1820s to work in the whaling industry, with many settling in Fall River and New Bedford. Today, Portuguese is the third most widely spoken language in the state after English and Spanish. A love for cod is something shared by people on both sides of the Atlantic. “Cod fishing was one of the first industries for early settlers in the state and is the namesake for Cape Cod,” says Andrew Hebert, executive chef at Baleia, a modern Portuguese restaurant in Boston’s South End. Cod croquettes—bolinhos de bacalhau if they’re ball shaped while pastéis de bacalhau are larger and almond-shaped—are one of the most accessible recipes that have made the move from the old country. Hebert’s fancier bolinhos include house-cured cod and are paired with saffron mayo. “These airy, salty bites usually include potatoes, parsley, onion, and other seasonings and can be served hot or cold, as an appetizer on their own or with arroz de tomate (tomato rice) as an entrée, such as at Cafe Europa in New Bedford,” says Michael Benevides of Portugalia Marketplace, a decades-old specialty grocer in Fall River. “I’ve been known to spontaneously grab a few from our prepared foods counter.” Visitors to the market shouldn’t miss the temperature-controlled room stocked with bacalhau (salted codfish)—also known as O Fiel Amigo, or “the faithful friend.” —Chadner Navarro

New Hampshire: tourtière

Nearly 8 percent of New Hampshire residents have French Canadian roots—the highest proportion of any state—with many families moving across the border from Québec in the late 19th and early 20th centuries to work in textile mills. The state’s biggest city, Manchester, is even home to a Franco-American Centre that offers language and culture classes and hosts an annual poutine festival each October. That gravy-topped favorite is becoming increasingly ubiquitous nationwide, so when visiting this part of New England, keep your eyes peeled for more unique dishes you won’t find elsewhere, such as cretons (a pork pâté spread) and especially tourtière (a double-crusted pie with ground meat and spices). The latter, often served with ketchup, is a Christmas season staple that can be sampled in Manchester at Chez Vachon, Belmont Hall & Restaurant, and Red Arrow Diner, where pork pie (“mémère’s very own recipe”) is also paired with eggs for breakfast. If you happen to be spending the winter holidays in New Hampshire, say, at one of its ski resorts, be sure to place an order for a full pork pie from Red Arrow to share with your famille. —ND

Photos by ETSchindler Photo

New Jersey: disco fries

The Garden State’s culinary legacy is bigger than you might think—juicy heirloom tomatoes, pizza by the shore—but Jersey’s most iconic contribution might be the 24-hour diner. There are, by some counts, more than 600 spread across the state, and a must-order at any time of day is disco fries. The poutine-like combination of thick-cut french fries (could be steak, crinkle, waffle, whatever) cloaked in melted cheese (usually mozzarella) and ladled with brown gravy burst onto the scene in the 1970s as a late-night, post-club treat. Clifton’s art deco Tick Tock Diner is considered the originator and continues to serve a classic recipe, topping its fried spuds with turkey gravy and mozzarella. In East Newark, Tops Diner was expanded and made more glamorous in 2020, and the 16,000-square-foot paean to comfort food tops its version with veal marrow–based gravy, which is simmered for 18 hours overnight to deliver a deep, rich flavor. Things get fancier still in Aberdeen Township at the swanky speakeasy La Otra. Here, Top Chef alum and James Beard Awards semifinalist David Viana whisks diners to Iberia with the Portuguese disco fries, a mound of crispy fries with Alentejana sauce (a dark jus made from their pork and clams recipe), piparra peppers, and melted fontina cheese. —CN

Courtesy of Bar Kabawa

New York: Jamaican patty

Hot dogs, knishes, pizza by the slice—New York has mastered the art of food you can eat while rushing down the street. And in parts of Brooklyn and the Bronx, the most ubiquitous handheld snacks are Jamaican patties. These spiced pastries are encased in a flaky crust, tinted a warm golden color by turmeric or curry powder, and filled with anything from spiced ground beef to curry chicken to ackee (a Caribbean fruit) and saltfish. They can also be piled into soft, slightly sweet coco bread for a more complete meal. For a primer on the cuisine, head out on a 2.5-hour guided walking tour of Brooklyn’s Little Caribbean. Or go it alone by putting together your own patty crawl to spots like Allan’s Bakery and Puff’s Patties; the Tosh’s Patties stand at Smorgasburg Prospect Park; or popular chains like Juici Patties or Golden Krust. (Bon Pâtés is worth a visit for its Haitian take on patties, which are flakier and more croissant-like.) Top Chef alum and James Beard Award winner Kwame Onwuachi serves curried goat patties at Tatiana in Lincoln Center, and he also recently launched a mini-chain called Patty Palace, with locations at Citi Field, Barclays Center, and Time Out Market Union Square. The most innovative patties might be coming out of Bar Kabawa, a new daiquiri bar from the Momofuku team where Barbados-born chef Paul Carmichael fills his patties with unique combinations like curry crab and squash, pepperpot duck and foie, and short rib with conch and bone marrow. —ND

Pennsylvania: scrapple

Spot it on diner menus across Pennsylvania: a crisped, molasses-brown brick, stacked in breakfast sandwiches or plated next to scrambled eggs and home fries. It’s scrapple, a Pennsylvania Dutch specialty born from necessity and ingenuity. In the 17th and 18th centuries, German settlers began simmering pork scraps and offal, then mixing them with cornmeal and buckwheat flour, before pressing the meat into loaves; the dish channels old-world blood puddings while embracing new-world grains and a waste-nothing ethos. What began as frugal farmhouse fare, though, has evolved into a beloved breakfast staple, with many Philly chefs adding their own smart spins. At Elwood, a studied homage to Pennsylvania Dutch cooking, chef-owner Adam Diltz often serves venison scrapple skewered on a deer antler as an amuse-bouche, a nod to the hunting culture of his upbringing in northeastern Pennsylvania, while Fishtown neighbor Sulimay’s pairs house-made whitefish scrapple with drippy eggs. Duck scrapple bao is on the menu at Center City sushi bar Double Knot, and West Philly café Out West layers lamb scrapple on a potato bun with eggs, cheese, and strawberry harissa jam. For a true classic version, though, head to Amish Country. Taste your way through Lancaster’s 18th-century Central Market or book a LoKal Experiences Amish food tour. And don’t miss the rite-of-passage breakfast at Shady Maple’s sprawling smorgasbord, where traditional Pennsylvania Dutch scrapple takes its rightful place on the 200-foot-long buffet. —Regan Stephens

Rhode Island: Rhode Island–style fried calamari

Rhode Island–style fried calamari is a gift from the Ocean State: fried squid tossed with garlic butter and pickled hot cherry or banana peppers that lend a briny, puckery punch. The origins of the dish are a little murky, but it likely came together in the 1970s and ’80s in the Italian American enclave of Federal Hill in Providence. These days, you can find classic renditions all over the state, from the waterfront perches at Matunuck Oyster Bar in South Kingstown or Evelyn’s Drive-In in Tiverton to local institutions like Aunt Carrie’s in Narragansett, which is located a mile from the Point Judith lighthouse and has been serving shore dinners since 1920. In Providence, the version at Camille’s comes with champagne garlic butter and fresh mint, while Los Andes offers a bright Peruvian twist, with the addition of queso blanco, choclo (Peruvian corn), cherry tomatoes, and mint. For a true Ocean State adventure, though, book a night squid-fishing trip with Frances Fleet out of Point Judith to jig for your own catch under the stars; tours run from 7 p.m. to midnight from April 29 through June 20. —RS

Vermont: maple creemee

Vermont churns out more than half of the nation’s maple syrup, and its pastures produce high-quality dairy—so it’s only natural that they come together in the state’s favorite summertime treat. When the weather starts to warm up, takeout windows slide open to sell maple creemees, a regional take on soft-serve that’s creamier due to a higher fat content. (The name is probably derived from the French word for ice cream used across the border in Québec, crème glacée.) The standard order is maple or maple vanilla swirl, but shops across the state offer sweet spins: twisted with coffee at Vermont Cookie Love in North Ferrisburgh or black raspberry at Scoops in Woodstock; topped with maple sprinkles at Palmer Lane Maple in Jericho; or made into the Bad Larry sundae at Waitsfield’s Canteen Creemee Company with maple crystals, drizzle, cookies, and cotton candy. Morse Farm Maple Sugarworks, just outside Montpelier, infuses creemees with syrup from their own trees and offers tours, demonstrations, and self-guided walks through the sugar bush (a stand of maple trees used for tapping). The creemees are sold year-round, so if you’re working up a sweat on the cross-country ski and snowshoe trail just across the road, you can still come in and enjoy a cone in the dead of winter. —ND

The South

Photo by Brent Hofacker/Shutterstock (L); photo by Liudmyla Chuhunova/Shutterstock (R)

Alabama: white barbecue sauce

The year 2025 marks the centennial of Big Bob Gibson, a classic barbecue joint in Decatur, one hour north of Birmingham, and birthplace of Alabama white BBQ sauce. This blend of vinegar and mayo, freshly cracked black pepper, salt, and lemon juice (plus various secret spices) is a tart and tangy table essential invented to keep smoked chicken moist. Today, they still do it the same way: After cooking the birds over a pit with hickory smoke for three hours, the barbecue stop dips the entire chicken into a vat of the sauce. Its ubiquity on menus around the state has only grown in the ensuing decades. “It’s not just for chicken now,” says Chris Lilly, Big Bob’s fourth-generation owner. “People put it on pulled pork, turkey, and even potato chips.” And it has become one of Alabama’s biggest cultural exports as well: “I’ve seen it in Chicago, served with chargrilled carrots; in Napa Valley, on sandwiches; and I even saw it once in Australia.” Around the state, you’ll find versions at establishments like the decades-old Miss Myra’s Pit Bar-B-Q in Birmingham and the Alabama-born regional chain Jim ‘N Nick’s Bar-B-Q, where white sauce is slathered on smoked wings and turkey breast. —Jenny Adams

Arkansas: Delta tamale

Popular on both the Arkansas and Mississippi banks of the Mighty Mississippi, Delta tamales are smaller, spicier, and firmer than the Mexican originals, made with cornmeal in place of masa and simmered rather than steamed. There are various interpretations for why the dish is so popular in these parts, but one of the most widely accepted is that a man named Pasquale St. Columbia arrived from Sicily in the late 1800s and began making his version of the corn-husk-wrapped portable snacks to sell to Mexican migrant laborers working in area cotton fields. His descendants now sell tamales from a West Helena concession stand called Pasquale’s Tamales, which also has a thriving mail-order business and a memorable motto: “Tastes so good you’ll suck the shuck!” Other must-stops on a tamale-themed road trip should include Rhoda’s Famous Hot Tamales and Pies in Lake Village, The Tamale Factory in Gregory, and Doe’s Eat Place in Little Rock, where the tamales are wrapped in paper and twine instead of corn husks and served alongside a bowl of chili. For a more updated take, check out the “Ark-Mex” minichain Taco & Tamale Co., which has locations in Little Rock, Bentonville, and Fayetteville, and serves a braised pork and beef version topped with red chili broth and a vegan version filled with sweet potato, black beans, chipotle, and corn, topped with a tomatillo-lime broth. —ND

Delaware: chicken and slippery dumplings

The First State is home to many, many more chickens than people, at a ratio of about 200:1, and they often show up in this ultimate comfort food classic, stewed and served alongside so-called “slippery dumplings.” Unlike the fluffier and more biscuit-like dumplings you’d find elsewhere, these are made by rolling dough very thin and cutting it into compact rectangles, almost like pocket squares of noodles. (Once they’re dunked in the brothy gravy, you’ll see why they’re sometimes also called “sliders” or “slicks.”) Try them at Wilmington’s Newport Family Restaurant, where they’re a Tuesday special—they’re served in a separate bowl and refilled when you’re running low—or at the 1950s-era Doyle’s Restaurant in Selbyville, where they’re an all-you-can-eat Thursday night special. —ND

Photo by Noah Densmore/Shutterstock (L); photo by Amawasri Pakdara/Shutterstock (R)

Florida: stone crab

Two trip-worthy things happen between October and May in Florida: The Sunshine State steps into its most pleasant weather window of the year, and stone crabs are in season. From October 15 to May 1, the crustaceans can be harvested from both the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico, and during these months, the delicate, sweet crabs—which are subtler and denser than blue crabs—show up on menus across the state. At the 112-year-old Joe’s Stone Crab, in Miami Beach, they’re served chilled and cracked with a cult-favorite mustard dipping sauce, and at more rustic hideaways like Triad Seafood Market & Cafe in Everglades City, you can order them dockside. Since the claws are harvested from live crabs that are immediately returned to the water to begin regenerating their absent appendage, Florida’s stone crab fishery is considered a sustainable one, and visitors can get in on the action. On Captiva Island, off Fort Myers, Captain Brian Holaway leads private ecotour charters during which you’ll learn about the harvest before docking at Cabbage Key Inn & Restaurant for a meal. And in the Florida Keys, The Islands of Islamorada Resort arranges interactive, private tours where you’ll get to haul up the traps with Captain Sara Stanczyk and then enjoy the claws prepared by the resort’s chef in your villa’s full kitchen. —Terry Ward

Georgia: boiled peanuts

Georgia produces more than half of all peanuts grown in the U.S., and nothing says Georgia quite like a bag of warm, salty, boiled peanuts. The real deal starts with green or raw peanuts, which are simmered in brine for hours until they become soft and earthy (sometimes with flavorings like Cajun or dill pickle seasonings); when they aren’t in season, shelled peanuts step in, keeping the tradition alive year-round. Either way, the snack is everywhere, ladled from steaming pots at gas stations and roadside stands, from Fred’s Famous Peanuts in Helen to Hardy Farms stalls throughout the middle of the state. (The latter hints at their unique appeal with its motto: “the country caviar.”) In Atlanta, the Wrecking Bar Brewpub uses Kölsch beer and a chili spice blend for an adult twist, while the Garden & Gun Club at the Battery pairs its peanuts with cocktails. Humble and endlessly adaptable, boiled peanuts are a road trip snack worth stopping for. —Nikki Miller-Ka

Kentucky: burgoo

Much of Southern cooking is bound by strict tradition, but there’s something thrillingly freewheeling about burgoo, Kentucky’s stick-to-your-ribs stew: There’s no prescribed recipe, no preferred combination of ingredients, and no consensus on the dish’s origins or etymology. Folks like to say, “If it walked, crawled, or flew, it goes in burgoo.” And, indeed, the mix-and-match combinations are endless. Today, you might find a trio of meats (pork, beef, and chicken) alongside vegetables like okra, corn, cabbage, lima beans, and potatoes, plus Worcestershire sauce, but previous iterations could have contained squirrel, rabbit, venison, pheasant, or duck. Because of its versatility, burgoo is perfect for making in enormous quantities, which is why it’s a favorite concession stand meal during races at Keeneland in Lexington—a thoroughbred named Burgoo King also won the 1932 Kentucky Derby. Locals swear by the burgoo at Shack in the Back BBQ in the Louisville suburb of Fairdale (so much so that you can buy it by the gallon), and legendary Appalachian chef Ouita Michel often adds the stew to her menus seasonally. —ND

Courtesy of Billy’s Boudin & Cracklins

Louisiana: boudin

Ask someone in New Orleans about the city’s most iconic food, and you may hear gumbo or fried oysters, beignets or banana pudding. But two hours west in Cajun Country, there’s one definitive answer: boudin (pronounced boo-dan), a style of sausage that’s been a staple in Acadiana since French-speaking refugees from Canada first settled the region in the early 1800s. While white rice is a staple ingredient, protein and preparations vary, allowing for ample experimentation: There’s boudin blanc (with pork), boudin noir (with blood added), and seafood boudin (with shrimp or crawfish), and you’ll even find boudin made with alligator at spots like the no-frills Chicken on the Bayou & Boudin Shop in Breaux Bridge. The town of Scott has fewer than 10,000 residents, but it attracts more than 40,000 visitors for its April Boudin Festival, which includes a pageant, live Cajun music, and, of course, a boudin-eating contest. Year-round, the Best Stop is Scott’s most famous purveyor, a roadside grocery selling deep-fried boudin balls that appear in biscuit breakfast sandwiches and atop po’boys. Nearby, Uncle T’s Oyster Bar serves boudin eggrolls, while Billy’s Boudin in historic Opelousas, 30 minutes north, crafts exceptional pepper-jack boudin balls and pistolettes (boudin-stuffed bread rolls). Those who would prefer to sit back and relax during their tasting can book a three-hour experience with Cajun Food Tours, which involves five stops and samples of not only boudin but also gumbo, crawfish, and fried alligator. —Jenny Adams

Maryland: crab cake

Maryland’s signature dish, the crab cake, pairs lump blue crab meat sourced from the Chesapeake Bay with binders and flavorings, such as eggs, butter, mayonnaise, mustard, and breadcrumbs or crushed crackers, and spices. An especially ubiquitous ingredient is Old Bay Seasoning—a spice blend that includes celery salt and paprika—which was invented in Baltimore in 1939 by German-Jewish refugee Gustav Brunn. The fritter-style fish cake itself has murkier origins, but since at least the 16th century, Indigenous women in the region were combining picked crab meat with cornmeal and frying it in bear fat. When looking for the best crab cake, you want to find ones with minimal filler and lots of fresh, juicy crab. Founded in Baltimore in 1886, Faidley Seafood is a historic favorite that sells both lump and backfin crab cakes (the latter is a bit cheaper but just as delicious); Pappas Seafood Co. makes Oprah Winfrey’s crab cake of choice; and the old-school, wood-paneled Schultz’s Crab House was in 2017 named an America’s Classic by the James Beard Foundation. For a more hands-on experience, join Natural Light Charters for a crabbing trip out of Stevensville, on the Eastern Shore, during which guests learn how to crab with a trotline and then can have their catch steamed for them at the marina. —Devorah Lev-Tov

Photo by Carmen K. Sisson/Shutterstock (L); photo by Terry Kelly/Shutterstock (R)

Mississippi: Royal Red shrimp

With a delicate taste that’s been likened to lobster, scallops, and even blue crab, Royal Red shrimp are a coveted catch that comes into season from late summer to late fall along Mississippi’s Gulf Coast. Caught about 60 miles offshore in cold, deep waters, where the Gulf of Mexico waters drop down to 2,000 feet, Royal Reds were once considered a trash fish and allegedly used as bait and fed to prisoners. Today, they show up as prized peel-and-eat, by-the-pound specials and as the star ingredient in Cajun seafood boils. The tender crustaceans are best savored with a waterfront view at places like the riverside Jourdan River Steamer in Kiln and Parrish’s Restaurant & Lounge, just west of Gulfport. They’re a favorite seasonal ingredient among the Mississippi coast’s thriving Vietnamese community, too: Find them on the menu at Fresh Vietnamese Bistro and Teahouse in D’Iberville, just north of Biloxi, where Royal Reds star in home-cooked dishes that include pho and vermicelli bowls. —TW

North Carolina: Lexington-style barbecue

In Lexington, North Carolina, barbecue isn’t a verb; it’s also a noun rooted in techniques brought to the Piedmont region by enslaved Africans and Haitian refugees, melded with German influences and adapted to local ingredients. Visitors follow the smoke to pork shoulders kissed with wood fire, chopped or sliced by hand, and finished with the thin, red-pepper-flecked, vinegar-and-tomato dip that defines the regional barbecue style here. (The more widely known Eastern North Carolina version, by contrast, is chopped whole hog and dressed in a clear vinegar-and-pepper sauce, with no tomato in sight.) Every October, the Lexington Barbecue Festival reroutes Amtrak trains with a temporary platform one block from the festival grounds, in order to deliver thousands to this self-proclaimed Barbecue Capital of the World. There are about a dozen barbecue joints in town—roughly 1.5 per 1,000 residents—perfect for a self-guided crawl to spots like the Barbecue Center, open since 1955, and Backcountry Barbeque, known for its crispy pork skin sandwiches. Wherever you go, order a Cheerwine, the state’s iconic cherry soda, and then spend an afternoon at Childress Vineyards, where NASCAR legend Richard Childress makes a “Swine Wine” that’s designed to pair perfectly with smoky pork. —NMK

Photo by Lori Duckworth/Oklahoma Tourism

Oklahoma: fried onion burger

Onions are a classic burger topping, but in Oklahoma, they’re an integral part of the patty. A result of Great Depression–era resourcefulness, the onion burger stretched skimpy beef portions by smashing an enormous tangle (seriously, more than you can imagine) of ultra-thinly sliced yellow onions into the meat just before flipping it. The fat drips down into the alliums, as they sizzle and just caramelize on the griddle. The burger style was invented in the Route 66 town of El Reno, half an hour west of Oklahoma City, and it’s still home to some of the best places to try them: Sid’s Diner, Johnnie’s Hamburgers & Coneys, and Robert’s Grill, which celebrates its centennial in 2026. Come the first Saturday in May, it also hosts the El Reno Fried Onion Burger Day Festival, during which volunteers cook an 850-pound version of the local specialty. After sampling the original, head to Oklahoma City to try variations: Nic’s Grill adds jalapeños and an egg to the oversized smashburger; statewide mini-chain Tucker’s Onion Burgers has ground turkey and Impossible Burger options; and Sun Cattle Co. offers the “onion fried Theta,” a fusion that combines the traditional onion fried burger with another Oklahoma specialty, the Norman-born, hickory BBQ sauce–topped Theta burger. —NT

Photo by Christopher Simpson

Puerto Rico: mofongo

No dish in Puerto Rico better represents the island’s multicultural heritage than mofongo. Derived from West African fufu, the starchy staple swaps out the traditional yam for unripe green plantains, which are fried and then typically mashed in a pilón (wooden mortar and pestle) with garlic, oil or butter, chicharrones (or pork cracklings), and sometimes broth. It can be served on its own, with broth, or shaped into a dome and filled with meat or seafood. You can find the dish at Old San Juan standbys like Café Manolín, a beloved lunch counter that’s been bringing in crowds since 1942, or more modern restaurants like Santaella, which serves a trifongo (made with sweet and green plantains and yuca) with garlic shrimp. At Cocina al Fondo—the first Puerto Rican restaurant to win a James Beard Award—chef Natalia Vallejo serves hers simply and soulfully in a country hen broth with chayote squash. On a four-hour Mofongo and Mojito Tour with Get Shopped, visitors can work their muscles as they muddle mint and mash plantains. —ND

South Carolina: red rice

A trip through South Carolina’s Lowcountry isn’t complete without red rice, a dish that carries the legacy of the African diaspora. Inspired by West African rice-cooking techniques brought by enslaved people, red rice is a cousin of jollof, simmered with tomatoes (instead of the traditional palm oil), plus smoked meats and the holy trinity of onions, bell peppers, and celery, until each grain is tender, red, and infused with deep, smoky flavor. The best way to experience it is on the road: Trace the roots of Gullah Geechee cuisine on the Undiscovered Charleston tour led by chef Forrest Parker, or join Charleston Culinary Tours, which stops into local kitchens like Benne’s by Peninsula Grill and 82 Queen. And then plan your own eating tour through some of the region’s classic institutions, such as Eastside Soul Food, Hannibal’s Kitchen, Dave’s Carry-Out, and Bertha’s Kitchen, which was named by the James Beard Foundation as an America’s Classic in 2017. Here, every spoonful tells a story that’s smoky, salty, and deeply rooted in history. —NMK

Tennessee: Nashville hot chicken

Nashville’s hottest export after country music just might be hot chicken, a formerly regional specialty that has made its way onto restaurant and fast-food chain menus across the country. According to legend, the dish was created as an act of vengeance, when a jilted lover coated her fried chicken in a punishing amount of cayenne pepper and fed it to her womanizing boyfriend. The only problem? The man in question, Thornton Prince, loved it so much that he perfected the recipe and opened his own chicken shack in 1945. Today, his family still runs the small but mighty Prince’s Hot Chicken empire—which now has a downtown location in Assembly Food Hall—but other standouts around town include Hattie B’s, where the hottest spice level is called “Shut the Cluck Up”; Party Fowl, where hot chicken is served with beignets or atop poutine; and Bolton’s Famous Hot Chicken & Fish, where you can get your fried catfish or whiting spiced up, too. (Wherever you go, be sure to use the provided white bread and pickle chips to help curb the sweat-inducing spice.) Each July 4, Nashville even hosts a Music City Hot Chicken Festival, which includes a parade, live music, an amateur cook-off, and a collection of area vendors, so you can try a few competitors to decide your favorite. —ND

Texas: fajitas

Before they became a sizzling staple at every suburban Tex-Mex spot, fajitas emerged in the 1930s as a delicious way to use up scraps on South Texas cattle ranches: As part of their pay, vaqueros (cowboys) would receive cuts like the head, organ meats, and the outside skirt steak, which became known as fajita, or “little belt,” thanks to its placement on the cow’s body. In 1973, at her family’s Houston tortilla factory, “Mama” Ninfa Laurenzo began grilling up skirt steak and serving it with flour tortillas as tacos al carbon, popularizing what we’d come to know as fajitas in the process. You should certainly still visit The Original Ninfa’s, but for a true taste of Tex-Mex history, head toward the border and the Rio Grande Valley. At Fajitas To Go in McAllen, steak is grilled over mesquite charcoal and served with melting onions cooked directly in the coals, while La Cocinita is a favorite in the city’s Mercado District food hall. For truly outstanding fajitas, though, drive a few miles west to the city of Mission and the pilgrimage-worthy Ana Liz Taqueria. The Culinary Institute of America–trained Ana Liz Pulido, whose father owns taquerías in Mexico, won the 2024 James Beard Award for best chef in Texas. You’ll find her beautifully chargrilled fajitas in tacos and quesadillas, and atop crispy vampiros, a Sinaloan snack comprising griddled, blue-corn tostadas with crispy cheese, guacamole, and pico de gallo. —ND

Courtesy of Fulks Run Grocery

Virginia: country ham

In Virginia, ham equals heritage. Salt-cured, smoked, and aged for months (or sometimes years), these hams rival prosciutto or Jamón Iberico for depth of flavor. The most famous styles hail from southeastern Virginia, where families have hung hams in oak- and hickory-darkened smokehouses for generations. In Smithfield, nicknamed the Ham Capital of the World, the Isle of Wight County Museum shares that history and displays the world’s oldest edible ham: Cured in 1902 and kept “fresh” through the magic of aggressive salting, it even has its own live webcam and social media accounts. Elsewhere, there are more rewards to come on the road, on the so-called Salty Southern Route and beyond: Stock up on whole hams at Meats of Virginia Butcher Shop & Deli in Elberon or R.M. Felts Packing Company in Ivor; stop into the decades-old Fulks Run Grocery, where Fridays mean fried slices stacked high on a bun; or savor Edwards country ham ravioli glossed in brown butter at Julep’s New Southern Cuisine in Richmond. —NMK

Washington, D.C.: doro wat and injera

After fleeing dictatorship in the 1970s, Ethiopians found refuge in the welcoming Black community of the nation’s capital. Today, D.C. is home to the largest Ethiopian population outside Ethiopia, centered in neighborhoods like Adams Morgan and Shaw’s Little Ethiopia. Here, visitors can experience the country’s culture through foods like injera, a tangy and spongy teff-flour flatbread that’s used to scoop up doro wat, a fiery red stew of chicken, egg, and berbere (a spice blend). One of the best spots to try this classic pairing is Dukem, a local institution that began in 1997 on the U Street corridor as a carryout joint by husband-and-wife team Tefera Zewdie and Hiwot Gebru, and has since grown into a bustling full-service restaurant. Over in Georgetown, Das Ethiopian offers a fine-dining spin on the cuisine, where servers walk around with baskets of fresh injera to refill when diners are running low. Travelers who are new to Ethiopian food should consider DC Metro Food Tours’ three-hour Little Ethiopia walking tour, which might involve a traditional breakfast, a coffee ceremony, or a taste of tej, or honey wine. —KC

West Virginia: ramps

Pepperoni rolls might be the first food that springs to mind when tastebuds turn to the Mountain State (the portable snacks trace their roots to Italian coal miners), but come spring, West Virginians get even more excited about ramp season. This is one of the best states in the country to harvest the beloved wild leeks, which pop out of Appalachian soil with their distinct reddish-pink stems and garlicky aroma from late April into early June. Before they became a trendy seasonal ingredient in big cities, they were a favorite springtime ingredient and folk remedy in the Mountain State. Anyone can forage on public lands, including within established limits in places like the Monongahela National Forest, where they grow in the shade along the forest floor under oaks, sugar maples, buckeyes, or birches. Wherever you forage for them, it’s important to follow sustainable practices, such as only collecting from patches with more than 100 plants and replanting snipped-off roots so they can regrow. Guided foraging experiences are offered in places like Pocahontas County, but you can also leave the digging to someone else and plan an epic springtime meal at Charleston’s 1010 Bridge. The restaurant is helmed by the state’s first James Beard Award–winning chef, Paul Smith, and features seasonal dishes like chicken and ramp waffles and fried green tomatoes with ramp aioli. Ample Pizza, just outside New River Gorge National Park & Preserve, recently used them three ways—roasted, fresh, and in a pesto—atop their wood-fired sourdough pies. And Mack’s Bingo Kitchen, a training ground for local youth entering the hospitality space, whips up an addictive “rampch” dressing. Mark your calendar, too, for the “world’s largest ramps festival,” Feast of the Ramson, held every April in Richwood, complete with a communal ramp-centric supper, live music, and arts and crafts. —TW

The West

Courtesy of Tutka Bay Lodge

Alaska: spruce tips

Alaska’s distance from the rest of the country—and much of the state’s distance from any other part of the state—means moving food around is hard and expensive. As a result, people have long found sustenance from the wild plants growing along beaches and, especially, in forests here. In the latter, locals and visitors alike can find one of the 49th state’s most delicious and fleeting seasonal splendors: spruce tips. The first green growth of spring, they show up at the ends of spruce branches and signal post-winter rebirth. Alaskans infuse their herbal-citrus brightness into everything: ice cream at Anchorage’s Wild Scoops, which sources the tips from community pickers; Frontier soda at Forty-Ninth State Brewing; and butter-poached king crab tails at Ludvig’s Bistro, run by Tlingit chef Edith Johnson, in Sitka. One of the wildest places to find spruce tips is Tutka Bay Lodge, which sits near Kenai Fjords National Park and is only accessible by boat or seaplane. On foraging walks through its ancient groves and across the rugged shoreline, guests can find not only spruce tips but also goose tongue, beach peas, or bolete mushrooms, depending on the season. And during chef-led cooking classes, they can learn how to use the day’s finds to make spruce tip jelly or get a sneak peek at how the spruce tips show up on the lodge’s menu: spruce-cured salmon, cocktails made with spruce tip sugar, or even in a custard for dessert. —NT

Photo by Halie Sutton

Arizona: tepary beans

For Jeffrey Lazos Ferns, founder of the Arizona Indigenous Culinary Experience, tepary beans stand for “the deep, ancestral roots woven through the Sonoran Desert.” The small, nutty legumes are packed with fiber and protein and are a special desert crop that’s drought-tolerant, heat stress–resistant, and capable of growing in the poorest of soils. “This resilient food has flourished under the care of Indigenous hands for thousands of years,” Lazos Ferns says; even when imperiled by the 20th-century incursion of industrial agriculture, tepary beans were stewarded and shared by Indigenous producers like the Akimel O’odham–owned Ramona Farms. Now, as Native and other Arizona chefs rekindle interest in heritage Sonoran ingredients, tepary beans are popping up on restaurant menus across the state. You’ll find them made into miso at BATA in Tucson, infused in vermouth at Phoenix’s Bar 1912, and tossed into a Three Sisters salad at chef Nephi Craig’s Café Gozhóó, on the lands of the White Mountain Apache Tribe. Diné chef Denella “Nella” Belin describes tepary beans as “a beautiful comfort food” for many people in the Sonoran Desert region; she uses them in multiple dishes at the Frybread Lounge in Scottsdale, including a creamy “O’odham hummus,” which arrives at the table alongside thick grilled tortillas. For more about tepary beans and other Native food plants and arid-adapted crops, visitors can head to one of Arizona’s many outstanding desert gardens, like Superior’s Boyce Thompson Arboretum or Mission Garden in Tucson. —Hannah Walhout

California: cioppino

As San Francisco as the Golden Gate Bridge, cioppino is a hearty fish stew invented by 19th-century Italian immigrant fishermen, many of whom came from Genoa and worked off Meiggs Wharf (which was destroyed during the 1906 earthquake). Legend has it that the stew got its name from people “chipping in” their catch to a communal bucket that would feed anglers on days with bad hauls, but historians believe the much likelier explanation is that it’s derived from a Ligurian soup called ciuppin. Tomato-based and usually spiked with white wine, clam juice (or seafood stock), and aromatics like fennel, onion, garlic, and chili peppers, cioppino is a throw-everything-in-the-pot celebration of the Pacific’s spoils: You might find Dungeness crab, shrimp, scallops, squid, mussels, and firm white fish, like halibut or cod, in the bowl, alongside toasted bread for sopping. Among the classic spots to try the dish are Anchor Oyster Bar on Castro Street, Sotto Mare in North Beach, and Tadich Grill, which was opened in 1849 by Croatian immigrants and is the third-oldest continuously open restaurant in the country. But around town, chefs often put their own flavorful spins on the dish: During Dungeness crab season, Dalida chef Laura Ozyilmaz has paired cioppino with the flavors of kakavia, a Greek fish soup, adding crab-stuffed squid, clams, and mussels, and a sesame-topped simit (Turkish bagel) in place of sourdough, while Asian American brunch chain Sweet Maple serves a “Morning Thai Cioppino” spiked with Southeast Asian herbs and eggs. —ND

Photo by Teri Virbickis/Shutterstock (L); photo by Ashley Fees Chasseur/Pêche (R)

Colorado: Palisade peach

Georgia who? Ask any Centennial Stater where the sweetest peaches come from, and they’ll all have the same answer: Palisade, a mesa-backed wine and orchard town on the Western Slope, where fruit trees have flourished since the 1890s. (President Taft even spoke at the town’s inaugural Peach Day festival in 1909.) Come summertime and especially peaking in mid-August, these stone fruits are ubiquitous at farmers’ markets and restaurants statewide, and they show up in salads, ice creams, pies, and even atop pizzas. But the best way to experience them is along Palisade’s Fruit & Wine Byway, putting in the work yourself at one of the region’s many u-pick orchards, shopping for peach butter or jam at a roadside farm stand, or sipping peach honey wine at Talon Wines at the Meadery or eau-de-vie at Peach Street Distillers. While in town, be sure to book a table at the permanently buzzy Pêche, where the rotating seasonal menu might include foie gras with peaches and brioche or peach salad with burrata. —ND

Photo by Lucy Hewett

Hawai‘i: kālua pork

The Hawaiian word kālua refers to the process of roasting food in an imu, or underground oven, though it’s now become accepted as a general term for slow-cooked, shredded pork that imitates the process in a kitchen. In Hawai‘i, accept no imposters: The specific process of trapping the smoke, heat, and the pig’s own fat and juices in an imu produces an inimitable flavor and texture, but more importantly, the method is a deeply rooted part of the culture of the islands. Cooks begin by lighting wood ablaze (kiawe, or Hawaiian mesquite, is popular), letting it burn down to coals, and then burying it with volcanic rocks that capture and retain the warmth; they then add the food and cover it all with earth. Along with the physical action of cooking, there are rituals to the process. At Imu Mea ‘Ai on Hawai‘i Island, visitors dig an imu alongside locals and participants in Men of PA‘A, the non-profit rehabilitation and anti-recidivism program that the organization supports. After a few hours learning traditional chants, shoveling dirt, and moving rocks, everyone gathers to open the imu built by the previous day’s group and feast on the pork, kalo (taro), carrots, and cabbage within. —NT

Idaho: finger steaks

“Finger steaks” may be something of a misnomer (cows don’t have hands, after all), but that hasn’t stopped these battered and deep-fried strips of steak from becoming an Idaho favorite. Legend has it that the recipe was invented by a butcher named Mylo Bybee, who worked for the U.S. Forest Service in remote parts of the state in the 1940s and was intent on using every scrap and trimming of beef. He later went on to cook at the Torch Lounge in Boise (which is now a gentleman’s club), where finger steaks became a hit, typically served with a side of cocktail sauce. Today, taverns, breweries, and steak houses around the state proudly have them on the menu. At the retro Westside Drive In, which has two locations in Boise, finger steaks are part of a full meal that celebrates Idaho’s unique culinary charms: They come in a basket with “potato gems” (tater tots), served with both traditional cocktail sauce and that pinkish Mountain West specialty, fry sauce. Finish up with an ice cream potato (cocoa-powder-dusted vanilla ice cream, topped with chocolate syrup and whipped cream), and complete the vibes by playing a few tunes in your car from Boise indie band Mylo Bybee. —NT

Montana: huckleberries

Huckleberries, for those who grew up outside the American West, are like blueberries’ cool older cousin. Intense, tangy, and utterly untamable, the small berries grow wild all over Montana in late summer, leading to a free-for-all picking frenzy along the state’s many hiking trails. The best way to enjoy them is bear-style—straight from the bush, by the fistful. But a closer second is in a huckleberry milkshake. One of the unexpected best spots to try the purplish treat is at the St. Regis Travel Center, a Wall Drug–like roadside attraction on I-90 between Spokane and Missoula with a gas station, casino, and trout aquarium. Its violet wonderland of a gift shop sells huckleberry everything: syrup, fudge, taffy, barbecue sauce, jelly beans. Taste other huckleberry milkshakes across the state, in places like the Huckleberry Patch near Kalispell or Missoula’s Butterfly Herbs, a tea shop and café that looks like an old-school general store and has been going strong since the 1970s. If you know what to look for and the season is right, you can forage for your own berries near Snowbowl (ski resorts tend to be fertile picking grounds) or join an expert on a custom guided picking tour with Glacier Hikes & Bikes in Whitefish. —NT

Nevada: Basque lamb

Prime rib might be the calling card at many a Las Vegas buffet. But for a taste of Nevada history, there’s nothing like sinking your teeth into a Basque lamb dish. Immigrants from the border region surrounding Spain and France first found their way to the Silver State during the 19th- century gold rush. Many of those who didn’t strike it rich turned to their sheepherding traditions to earn a living in the territory’s mountainous terrain. Today, Basque traditions are intertwined with cowboy culture in the state’s rugged northern reaches, where lamb dishes show up all over menus at family-style dinner houses. At the Martin Hotel, which opened in Winnemucca in 1898, lamb chops are more than an inch thick, and shanks are sautéed with fresh garlic and baked with red wine until tender. Louis’ Basque Corner in Reno roasts leg of lamb and plates it alongside baked Basque-style pinto beans, french fries, bread, and salad for the table to share. Elko’s Star Hotel serves neck and shoulder cuts of slow-baked lamb topped with pimentos, while Gardnerville’s JT Basque Bar & Dining Room sautés its lamb shoulder with generous lashings of garlic and mushrooms. Whichever lamb dish you order, be sure to pair it with Picon Punch. The official state cocktail since June 2025, the Basque-born drink is made with a bittersweet liqueur called Amer Picon, grenadine, club soda, and a brandy float, and you’ll find it being downed in copious quantities alongside lots of dancing and merry-making at Basque festivals held during the summer in Elko, Reno, and Winnemucca, too. —TW

New Mexico: sopaipilla

A lesson in sopaipilla-eating techniques should be a pre-travel requirement for visitors to New Mexico: Bite off a corner, allowing the steam to whoosh out, then pour in some honey before proceeding to eat the rest. A cross between a flour tortilla and a doughnut, softer and lighter than their fry bread cousins around the U.S., the hollow puffs are ubiquitous at New Mexican restaurants. They serve much the same purpose as bread does elsewhere—starting as a pre-meal nibble, ending as a sauce mop, or even filled with other regional ingredients. They show up on breakfast menus, as at El Patio de Albuquerque, where they’re stuffed with carne adovada (braised pork with chilies), eggs, and potatoes, and smothered in red or green chili, and they even act as burger buns across town at Sadie’s. At the Santa Fe School of Cooking, you can learn to make them yourself in the Traditional New Mexican II demonstration class, during which a chef will show you how to cook dishes like carne adovada, chiles rellenos, refried beans, flour tortillas, calabacitas, and, of course, sopaipillas. —NT

Photos by Kathryn Elsesser/Oregon Truffle Festival

Oregon: native truffle

Sure, truffle exports are dominated by countries like Italy and France. But in the U.S., Oregon is one of the undisputed hubs of homegrown truffle production. There has been some cultivation of European varieties, but the Beaver State is also home to hundreds of native species, including four—one black, one brown, two white—that are considered local delicacies. “Their aroma can’t be cultivated or replicated,” says chef Sarah Schafer of Grounded Table in McMinnville; Oregon’s truffles are subtler (and more affordable) than their continental counterparts, with an earthy flavor rooted in the moist, mossy Douglas fir stands where they grow. The habitat of choice is the forest of the Coast Range and the Cascade foothills, particularly in the Willamette Valley, which hosts the annual Oregon Truffle Festival. Visitors can get a taste throughout the season, which runs from late fall to early spring: Take a truffle-hunting excursion with local outfitter Black Tie Tours, or catch them on the menu at one of the Valley’s many outstanding restaurants. At Jory, in Newberg, chef Jack Strong loves cooking with truffles as part of his broader focus on Oregon’s native foods, and he offers five-course truffle dinners at his private chef’s table. At Antica Terra, in Amity, recent James Beard Award winner Timothy Wastell shaves Oregon black truffles over fries and into dressings, and is even developing ways to incorporate them into the dessert course. And chef Clayton Allen of Soter Vineyards, in Carlton, sometimes braises them whole. “The truffle’s true flavors of fruited earth and pine mulch come out,” Allen says. —HW

Utah: dirty soda

In the Beehive State, you can order your soda “dirty”—that is, enhanced with heavy creams, fruit, juices, flavored syrups, and candy pieces—and the trend has gone viral on TikTok. The popularity of this Mountain West riff on the Italian soda can be chalked up to the high population of members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, who are not supposed to drink alcohol, coffee, or tea. Dirty soda shops have popped up around Utah since 2010, when the OG Swig debuted in St. George; the chain has since gone on to open 140 spots across 15 states, offering additions like pumpkin pie sauce, raspberry puree, and popping boba. In Salt Lake City, the mountain-view rooftop bar Van Ryder has offered elevated takes on the phenomenon: The Spiced Peach Sunset, for instance, includes lemon-lime soda, house-made cinnamon syrup, peach syrup, and a splash of lemon juice, while the Dolce Cherry Soda includes cola, coconut milk, lime juice, and Luxardo cherries. Or take matters into your own hands at the family-owned Uinta Soda Shack, near Park City, where you can make any of your dirty sodas into a float for an extra $1. —SB

Washington: spot prawn

An underrated jewel of the Pacific Northwest’s stellar seafood selection, these tender crustaceans are often referred to as spot prawns, which feels right: They’re too dramatic and delicious to share a name with typical grocery store shrimp. You’ll recognize spot prawns by their size (up to 11 inches), translucent red shell, and white stripes down their heads. Come late spring, they show up raw at Seattle sushi bars like Ltd Edition or grilled at restaurants like Off Alley. But because they start degrading the second they come out of the water, the best way to enjoy them is as close to the action as possible—ringing with the crispy, cold-water clarity of the Pacific, while mimicking the sweetness of lobster. In Anacortes, not far from the ferries that depart for the San Juan Islands, the Shrimp Shack sells fresh-caught crustaceans in assorted styles: Stick with boiled peel-and-eat—the simpler, the better, with spots. If you get lucky, you can even catch them yourself by setting out special mesh pots, though the season is governed by catch levels; it’s sometimes as short as four hours a year in Puget Sound and only five or six days elsewhere. Aspiring shrimpers can get in touch with Captain Paul Kim of FishPNW, who runs charters and sells individual spots on his spot prawn boats during the season. An advisor for the fisheries department, he lights up talking about the shrimp, “They’re next level,” he says. —NT

Wyoming: trout

Anglers flock to Wyoming to fly-fish in its crystal clear mountain waters at luxury lodges like Brush Creek Ranch. But you don’t have to sit and wait all day, reel in hand, to enjoy the delicate delights of trout, a prized protein in these parts on par with bison and elk. At the ranch’s Pioneer Kitchen, you can order smoked trout dip, which also shows up on the après-ski menu at its Saloon, paired with wintry fireside cocktails. For a more rugged experience befitting the surroundings, head to the Pitchfork Fondue Western Cookout in Pinedale, 75 miles southeast of Jackson. Here, with the Wind River Mountains as a backdrop, cowboy-hat-wearing staffers spear trout (and steaks and chicken) on pitchfork tines and cook the fish in a cauldron of hot oil above a wood fire. In the heart of Jackson, you can taste the beloved freshwater fish prepared a number of ways: tucked in a Cajun trout po’boy at Palate at the National Museum of Wildlife Art, grilled whole with mint-ginger chimichurri at Steadfire Chophouse at the Four Seasons Resort and Residences Jackson Hole, or wood-fired in caper-shallot butter at Glorietta in the Anvil Hotel. —ND