50 States, 50 Cuisines: The Food Worth Traveling For in Every State

Two years ago we set out to identify a signature dish for each state, from Sonoran dogs in Arizona to cheese curds in Wisconsin. For the second iteration of this list, we wanted to go beyond the classics—the food everyone tells you to try when you visit—and highlight chefs and cuisines that have had a distinct impact or reflect a noteworthy community in the state. We looked at all 50 states (plus Washington, D.C., and Puerto Rico) and their unique food histories, debating our choice for each on impassioned Zoom calls and lengthy Slack threads. The final result is a list of state-specific cuisines, each based on a longstanding diaspora (like Vietnamese food in Louisiana), an Indigenous community (Abenaki in Vermont), or something totally endemic (New Mexican in New Mexico). Our goal was to highlight a cuisine worth traveling to each state for, much of which you truly can’t get anywhere else. In some cases, it was so hard to choose that we included an honorable mention. At a time when much of the travel we’re doing is domestic and road-trip-based, it feels apt to celebrate America’s varied food cultures—and maybe even discover a little something about our home states along the way.

Illustrations by Amber Day

Alabama: Greek cuisine

In the late 1800s, thousands of Greeks began immigrating to America, fleeing their home country’s political turmoil. A handful of enterprising young men made a home in Birmingham, where despite little formal education or English proficiency, they quickly found the opportunity they sought in the restaurant business. Though they weren’t serving much Greek cuisine then, thanks to pioneering families who later opened their own eateries (names like Sarris, Hontzas, and Bonduris), Greeks gained a foothold in Birmingham’s food scene, creating an enduring Southern-meets-Mediterranean marriage that, a century ago, was trailblazing.

There are still few exclusively Greek restaurants, but Birmingham-area diners can taste this blended heritage at luminaries like Alabama’s oldest restaurant, The Bright Star (opened in 1907 and now under fourth-generation family management), where fresh Gulf snapper sings with earthy oregano and zesty lemon. The union of the region’s meat ’n’ three concept with Greek flavors shines too. At Ted’s, souvlakia crowds plates alongside fried okra and cheesy squash casserole. At Niki’s West (owned by two Hontzas brothers), a vast array of veggies cozy up to garlicky Greek baked chicken or lemon-pepper catfish. And James Beard Award semifinalist Tim Hontzas (a cousin to the owners of Niki’s West) draws throngs to Johnny’s, which serves up what he’s playfully dubbed a Greek ’n’ three, featuring Greek classics like keftedes and fasolakia plus Alabama standards enlivened with Greek ingredients: Think turnip greens elevated with toasted fennel seed and meatloaf made with ground lamb. —Jennifer Kornegay

Alaska: Russian cuisine

The Russian Revolution of 1917 led to the expulsion of a persecuted sect of Christians known as the Old Believers. Many of them ultimately resettled in a part of Alaska reminiscent of home, where they rekindled a cultural legacy, raising onion-domed churches and reconnecting with old flavors in the New World.

At Russian Eats in downtown Anchorage, Hionia Gatts serves traditional dishes that provide cold-weather comfort, like sturdy dumplings and rich stews. “I never realized there would be such a demand for it,” she says of the popular food truck she launched with her husband in 2011. “This was just the food that I grew up making with my mom in our kitchen.” On the menu are piroshki filled with chicken and spicy beef; a borscht born of a Siberian recipe; and pelmeni, dumplings that she stuffs with either beef or fish and potato. You’ll still find these delicacies on every dinner table back in Nikolaevsk—her home village near the southwestern edge of Alaska’s Kenai Peninsula. But they’re attracting a new audience in the big city, where such samplings are typically only served at fairs or at fundraisers hosted by neighboring communities of Old Believers. For a brick-and-mortar experience, there’s the Eastern European Store and Deli. The no-frills lunch hot spot has locations in Anchorage and Wasilla and serves Russian specialities like cervelat sausage sandwiches and pierogi with your choice of half a dozen fillings. —Brad Japhe

Arizona: Navajo/Diné cuisine

Nearly a millennium ago, a migration from Canada brought tribes like the Apache and Navajo to present-day Arizona. Today, one can find Navajo food, like fry bread, mutton, chile, and steam corn (corn slow-cooked underground) in Navajo Nation and pockets throughout the state. Each food tells a story. Fry bread: grave hardship. Mutton: shepherding introduced by Spain. Chile and steam corn: local farming and preservation.

In greater Phoenix, Navajo cuisine is largely found at food trucks or pop-ups. Emerson Fry Bread, a truck, serves cactus-fruit lemonade and a mutton sandwich with Hatch chile, like the ones found at roadside stands in the Navajo Nation. Jaren Bates, the state’s most innovative Navajo chef, is hosting pop-up meals as he works on his next restaurant, Wild: Arizona Cuisine, in metro Phoenix. Bates is known for dishes like sashimi with bean ash and pickled yucca blossoms, and his smoky-but-delicate steam corn ice cream. At Window Rock, the capital of Navajo Nation, Diné Restaurant highlights traditional foods, like juicy mutton ribs, fragrant blue corn mush, and Navajo-raised beef burgers. —Chris Malloy

Arkansas: Ozark cuisine

Born of rugged necessity, Ozark cuisine traces its roots to 19th-century settlers pushing westward from Appalachia and making do with what they found in the sheltered woods of Arkansas, Missouri, and Oklahoma: wild turkey and whitetail deer, persimmons and pokeweed, black walnuts and black bears. “With telegraph lines and railroad tracks reaching the Ozarks 50 years behind the rest of the nation, its cuisine was created and cultivated with very little external influence outside of the hills,” says Erin Rowe, food historian and owner of Ozark Culinary Tours in Bentonville.

For a taste of homestyle cooking (think bean soup and blackberry cobbler), Rowe recommends Monte Ne Inn Chicken in Rogers and The Wooden Spoon in Gentry. But other chefs are bringing these ingredients into the 21st century, like James Beard Award semifinalist Matthew McClure of The Hive at the 21C Museum Hotel Bentonville. He cures prosciutto-like hams made from Ozarks-raised hogs and pairs persimmons with grilled quail, while at Fayetteville’s Mockingbird Kitchen, Chrissy Sanderson offers dishes like beans-and-greens salad with cornbread croutons. “Besides an Ozark family’s dining table,” Rowe says of these forward-thinking restaurants, “this would be the next best thing.” —Nicholas DeRenzo

California: Oaxacan cuisine

Los Angeles has no shortage of Mexican food, from Jalisco-style seafood tostadas to steaming al pastor tacos served along Sunset Boulevard. But the Oaxacan food scene, largely pioneered by immigrants who flocked to the city in the early ’90s for agricultural work, is one of the best representations of the state’s cuisine outside of Oaxaca—and hands down the biggest in the U.S. Oaxacan food includes traditions from 16 Indigenous communities and micro-regions, with some dishes unique to just one town or village. Most of the Oaxacan food found in L.A. focuses on classics from the region’s central valley, like rich mole and memelas (handmade tortillas griddle-charred and topped with pork rind paste, beans, and cheese).

Head to L.A institution Guelaguetza, local hub Expression Oaxaqueña, Gish Bac (run by third-generation barbacoa master Maria Ramos), or Madre for a crash course. Poncho’s Tlayudas is known for its namesake crispy tortillas smothered in seasoned black beans and cheese and topped with moronga (blood sausage), based on a Sierra Norte family recipe. Bill Esparza, author of L.A. Mexicano, suggests Doña Roberta’s tejate stand on West Adams for the pre-Hispanic maize and cacao beverage popular with Mixtec and Zapotec communities. In Koreatown, the unofficial hub, you’ll hit bakeries like El Valle Oaxaqueño (get the pan dulce), and markets like Benito Juarez (scoop up a bag of fried grasshoppers, known as chapulines), for a glimpse of what Oaxacalifornia, as the community calls it, is all about. —Megan Spurrell

Colorado: Slovenian cuisine

Pueblo’s steel mill attracted so many southern and Eastern European laborers in the early 20th century that this Colorado boomtown was dubbed the Melting Pot of the West. Thanks to their tight-knit neighborhood, Bojon Town, the Slovenian immigrants managed to keep many of their traditions, well, unmelted. No food better defines the region than potica (“poh-teet-sah”), a sweet walnut roll that can also be filled with poppy seeds, tarragon, and more and is best served draped with a slice of smoked ham. It’s such a big part of Pueblo culture that mayoral candidate Nick Gradisar included pictures of his family’s potica on his campaign website. (He won.)

Today, bottles of Balkan slivovitz (plum brandy) and kruskovac (pear liqueur) dot the shelves of Eilers’ Place tavern, and family-run Franks Meat Market still slings smoked klobase and blood sausage. Come Christmas and Easter, locals swarm to Janessa’s Gourmet, Mauro Farms & Bakery, and Gagliano’s Italian Market to pick up potica before they inevitably sell out. —Nicholas DeRenzo

Connecticut: Jamaican cuisine

Connecticut’s Caribbean communities are closely intertwined with the state’s agricultural past. During World War II, the federal government sponsored about 1,300 Jamaican seasonal workers to bring their expertise north, many to Connecticut’s tobacco fields, hoping to boost the crop’s production for the war effort. New waves of seasonal workers continued to arrive, many of whom ended up settling in the state, turning it into one of the best destinations on the East Coast for fiery jerk and melt-in-your-mouth beef patties. These days, the state's largest cluster of Jamaican restaurants can be found in the Hartford area, with a few other notable spots along the I-95 corridor. Greatest hits include the curry goat at Dunn’s River Jamaican Kitchen in Hartford, the jerk chicken Caesar salad and salt fish at Tropical Breeze Jamaican Kitchen in West Haven, and the beef patties at both Scotts’ Jamaican Bakery in Hartford and Peppers Jamaican Bakery & Jerk in Bloomfield. —Todd Plummer

Honorable mention: As of 2018, Indians accounted for the largest immigrant population in the Constitution State, and consequently there are authentic and beloved North and South Indian food options almost everywhere you go (though especially around Stamford and the greater Hartford area). Must-tries include Utsav in Vernon and Darbar in Branford.

Delaware: Amish cuisine

Delaware has been home to a unique coastal Amish community for more than a century, and many of the state’s simple, hearty foods—its pork scrapple (a sausage-like meatloaf typically served for breakfast), its chicken and “slippery” dumplings—have their roots in the community’s Swiss-influenced origins.

At the Dutch Country Market in Laurel, you'll find local cheeses from Pleasant Valley Dairy, crab salad and seafood chowder from Dutch Country Salads, and more than 12 variations on soft pretzels—an Amish staple—from Smucker’s. In Dover, at Spence’s Bazaar, an Amish flea market, you can nab homemade ice cream, jams, and pastries, or head to nearby Byler’s Store, which has been in operation since 1974, to browse their selection of Amish and Mennonite cookbooks. (You should also grab a slice of their shoofly pie, a molasses-based pastry.)

Finish your tour up north in Middletown, at Miller’s Country Kitchen, to sample their scrapple and chicken and dumplings. The restaurant is also known for its Breakfast Haystack, a pile of biscuits, gravy, scrapple, home fries, peppers, and onions—topped off with a warm cheese sauce for a twist on an Amish farmhouse breakfast. Expect to find a few seafood-centric dishes on the menu too, like breaded flounder and fried shrimp reminiscent of schnitzel. —Carina Finn

Florida: Cuban cuisine

Two episodes forever marked Tampa and Miami as hubs for cooking and cubaneo: when Tampa factories rolled their first cigars in the late 1800s, and when Castro seized power in 1959, leading to a mass exodus to Miami. A stretch of U.S. Route 41, known as the Tamiami Trail, links the cities and starts on Miami’s Calle Ocho. You should too—and skip the Cuban sandwich. You’re better off with ropa vieja (shredded beef steeped in a tomato sauce with garlic, onions, and peppers) at Versailles. For a more refined take, James Beard Award winner Michelle Bernstein’s arroz con pollo at Café La Trova is zhuzhed up just enough without breaking tradition. Be sure to binge on fritas, Cuba’s beef burger blended with chorizo, where Obama did, at El Mago de las Fritas. Order yours a caballo—with an oozing fried egg on top. In Tampa, it’s all in Ybor City. Columbia taps into the cuisine’s Spanish roots (go with the picadillo). And don’t miss La Segunda, where the Moré family has been baking Cuban bread with a crust guaranteed to scatter crumbs everywhere for 105 years. One last tip: Always save room for cafecito, flan, and pastelitos de guayaba. —Lorenzo Reyes

Honorable mention: Florida has more Argentines than any other state, a 2017 Pew Research Center study found. So when you tire of Cuban food, indulge on empanadas and asado. For a casual vibe, head to Fiorito in Miami’s Little Haiti for choripán (grilled chorizo sandwiches) and a few ice-cold Quilmes (Argentine beer); for wood-fired parrillada, there’s only one choice: Argentine grillmaster Francis Mallmann’s Los Fuegos in Miami Beach.

Georgia: Korean cuisine

North of the Atlanta city limits, Gwinnett County is home to a vibrant Korean American diaspora. Since 2000, the population of Korean Americans within the county—especially in the cities of Duluth and Suwanee, where people have moved for work opportunities—has doubled, and Korean is loosely referred to as the third spoken language in the state of Georgia, after English and Spanish.

And as demographics shifted through the years, so did the range of Korean dishes served at local Korean-owned restaurants. Visitors can feast on Korean barbecue at Honey Pig, one of the restaurants that first popularized it within the metro Atlanta area; learn to make family-style meals and banchan like scallion kimchi at JS Kitchen, which doubles as a cooking classroom; or dine on Korean street food favorites like kimmari (deep-fried seaweed rolls) and kimbap (seaweed rice rolls featuring proteins like chicken, pork, and squid) at Dan Moo Ji.

To scope out the newest places to dine—and get to know Gwinnett’s Korean American diaspora—Explore Gwinnett periodically offers a Seoul of the South food tour, with stops at a handful of local restaurants and bakeries. —Nneka M. Okona

Hawai‘i: Hawaiian cuisine

In Hawai‘i, there’s local food like loco moco and Spam musubi—created by the many immigrant groups that have settled on the islands—and then there’s Hawaiian food. The term Hawaiian refers to the people, dishes, and culture descended from the original Polynesians who first arrived about 1,000 years ago. The Pacific Ocean provided fish and limu (seaweed) and salt, and from those the Hawaiians prepared the precursor to poke. But the Polynesians also brought pigs and plants to propagate, including taro, breadfruit, bananas, and sugarcane, which have formed the foundation of Hawaiian cuisine.

In front of Waiāhole Poi Factory on Oahu, you might see owner Liko Hoe pounding cooked taro between a stone mortar and wooden board to make pa‘i‘ai, the backbone of the native Hawaiian diet. Before it’s thinned with water to make poi, it’s sticky, chewy, and sweet, like Japanese mochi. Accompany it with laulau—taro leaves wrapped around pork, then bundled in ti leaves and steamed into a custardy consistency. Foraged hō‘i‘o, or tender fiddlehead fern, is tossed with tomatoes and onions, the latter ingredients introduced by later settlers of the islands. To taste how modern Hawaiian food has incorporated flavors from more recent immigrants, head to Mud Hen Water in Honolulu, where pa‘i‘ai is glazed with soy sauce and sugar then grilled, and buttered breadfruit gets a salty snap with Chinese-style fermented black beans. —Martha Cheng

Idaho: Basque cuisine

Boise is home to more than 10,000 Basque descendants, whose ancestors emigrated in the 1800s to the Treasure Valley where they herded sheep and worked in the gold mines; others fled Spain in the mid-20th century during the oppressive rule of military dictator Francisco Franco. Like the Basque language, which is unrelated to any other Indo-European tongue, this unpretentious, comforting fare is unlike food you’ll find anywhere else.

Bar Gernika—a mainstay of downtown Boise’s Basque Block—serves a tender solomo sandwich, a satisfying combination of marinated pork loin and succulent pimentos. In the nearby Linen District, Txikiteo’s unrivaled Basque wine selection and exceptional tapas (jamón Serrano, tart pickled blueberries) invite diners to linger. This is Idaho, after all, so Basque potato dishes get even more play here. Don’t miss Bar Gernika’s crispy potato croquetas or tortilla de patata (add the chorizo and manchego). Idaho might have "Famous Potatoes" stamped on its license plates, but for the Basque community, fries are just the tip of the iceberg. —Emma Walker

Illinois: Nigerian cuisine

The Chicago Tribune reported in 2013 that Black African immigrants in Chicago constituted the fifth largest African immigrant community in the country. Nigerians make up the largest percentage, at 30 percent of African immigrants in Chicago, according to an United African Organization study issued in 2012. In Chicago, the presence of Nigerians and the community they’ve built has translated into a cluster of restaurants, chiefly found on the South Side, offering a taste of the cuisine characteristic of the coastal West African country.

Most of the Nigerian restaurants are small family-owned spots with an emphasis on carry-out orders. Among them is Bisi Restaurant, known for their egusi, a slow-cooked soup composed of spinach and ground melon seeds eaten with pounded yam, and Southside Restaurant, where the shining star is their suya, beef cooked over a woodfire grill, seasoned with a spice blend of garlic powder, chicken bouillon powder, paprika, and crushed peanuts. —Nneka M. Okona

Indiana: Burmese cuisine

Indianapolis’s south side is home to an estimated 15,000 to 20,000 Burmese refugees. The vast majority are Chin, a Christian minority that fled Myanmar because of religious persecution. The community retains a strong identity—the area where they live is often dubbed Chindianapolis—and that’s especially clear in the food. Much like the Midwest, western Myanmar’s Chin State relies on corn, not rice, as a primary starch. As Christians, the Chin eat both pork and beef, often utilizing the entire animal, and many dishes are steamed or boiled instead of fried, creating a lighter, fresher spin on Burmese standards.

Chin Brothers, a bustling south-side eat-in grocery, has been a neighborhood cornerstone since 2007 and provides an unparalleled introduction to Chin classics. It specializes in harder-to-find delicacies like vok sa ril, a popular sausage made from sticky rice, pork blood, and ground pork, steamed in natural casing and dusted with herbs. Sabuti, a slow-simmered hominy-and-beef porridge, tops menus at Chin Brothers as well as neighboring MiMi Asian Restaurant, IMBI, Yangon, Burmese Restaurant, and Chin Family Restaurant. For breakfast, try ei kyar kway (pillowy flatbread crullers) or soft folds of puri alongside tangy dal, a staple at all-day cafés like Kimu. Pair both with a ubiquitous mug of milky sweet tea or moh let sawng, a drink with layers of coconut milk, teardrop rice noodles or tapioca, and palm syrup. —Meredith Heil

Iowa: Czech cuisine

Beginning in the 1850s, Czech immigrants came to eastern Iowa to settle in farming communities and work in the meatpacking plants of Cedar Rapids. Today, the city is still home to many of their descendants. By a fairly wide margin, Cedar Rapids has the highest population of Czechs of any American city of its size. It’s also home to the National Czech and Slovak Museum & Library, which stands in the heart of the city’s Czech Village neighborhood. Stroll through the area around 16th Avenue SW; local favorite Rodina offers Czech comfort foods such as cheesy spaetzle, pork schnitzel, sausages, cabbage salad, and potato pancakes. Save room for dessert at Sykora Bakery, where oven-warm kolaches (of the sweet fruit-stuffed variety) sell out on a regular basis. If you visit in June, you can experience St. Ludmila's Kolach Festival; locals work together to produce some 66,000 kolaches—but you should still arrive as early as possible to snag one. —Todd Plummer

Honorable mention: Iowa was among the first states to offer resettlement assistance to refugees fleeing Vietnam as the war ended in the 1970s, and Vietnamese restaurants have been going strong in the state for decades. Pho All Seasons and A Dong in Des Moines are great spots for fresh summer rolls and satisfying vermicelli noodle bowls.

Kansas: Volga German cuisine

The story of the Volga Germans begins in 1762, when Catherine the Great invited Germans to colonize Russia’s undeveloped Volga River Valley, and they arrived by the thousands. Later, when Alexander I revoked their exemption from military service, many once again embraced the pioneer spirit and fled to Western Canada and the Great Plains, with a sizable number of Catholic families settling in Ellis County, Kansas, in the 1870s. Here, the Volga German community developed the now ubiquitous bierock (known as runza in Nebraska), a sweet yeast bun stuffed with ground beef, onions, and cabbage or sauerkraut that takes its name from either Russian pirogi or Turkish börek.

All across the region you can order these uniquely American inventions at drive-throughs (Wichita’s M&M Bierock), bakeries (Bloom Baking Co., across the state border in Kansas City, Missouri), beer gardens (Wichita’s Prost), and brewpubs (Gella’s Diner in Hays). And, this being a Hot Pocket–loving nation, they of course now come in varieties like breakfast, pizza, taco, and barbecue pork. —Nicholas DeRenzo

Kentucky: Sri Lankan cuisine

Kentucky has become an unexpected focal point for amber-colored chicken curries and succulent meats braised in spiced coconut milk. They’re hallmarks of Sri Lankan cuisine, which combines flavors from nearby India and Thailand for its own distinct taste. In America, Sri Lankan food is heavily influenced by matriarchal pods who have capitalized on regionally available ingredients to create meals for the expatriate community.

Meals from my childhood inspired my pop-up, Tuk Tuk, which marries the American South and Sri Lankan experiences. Curry chicken ingredients make their way into buttermilk brine, and grits get the kiribath treatment using coconut milk. While Sri Lankan restaurants do not dot the landscape (the number of Sri Lankans in the United States remains small), diners have begun flocking to Lexington to experience the food. It’s just the beginning for the proliferation of the island’s flavors, but by all indications, a beautiful journey is ahead. —Sam Fore

Louisiana: Vietnamese cuisine

Forty-five years after the first 2,100 Vietnamese refugees landed in New Orleans, the Big Easy is home to some of the best Vietnamese restaurants and grocery stores in the U.S. The city’s largely Catholic Vietnamese American community is concentrated famously in the Village de L’Est area, where a weekly farmers market offers everything from Asian herbs like shiso leaf and wax gourds to sticky rice cakes and dried seafood snacks. Here, you’ll find old-guard establishments like Dong Phuong, a James Beard–designated American Classic hawking $5 banh mi sandwiches, and Hoang Gia, a truly timeless hot pot restaurant and karaoke bar.

Louisiana’s Vietnamese community also laid the foundation for the hybrid Vietnamese-Cajun cuisine. As many new immigrants recognized similarities between Cajun crawfish boils and Vietnam’s outdoor seafood stalls, they leaned into the tradition, opening their own boil shops, including Terrytown’s Cajun Corner Seafood. In the wake of Hurricane Katrina, folks moving west to Houston took things one step further, serving crawfish with seasoning outside the shell as well as in the boil—a distinctly Vietnamese twist. Today, this style of Viet-Cajun crawfish has reverse-migrated and can be found in New Orleans at spots like Big EZ Seafood and Boil Seafood House. And it’s not just Vietnamese chefs riffing on New Orleans dishes: Many Crescent City sandwich lovers, including MoPho’s Mike Gulotta and Banh Mi Boys’ Peter Nguyen, have tried their hand at fusing the Vietnamese banh mi with the po’boy. —Dan Q. Dao

Maine: Somali cuisine

Drive away from Maine’s popular coast and you’ll find so much more than lobster rolls and fried clams. Since 2000, more than 10,000 Somali refugees have settled around Lewiston, Maine. With them came flaky fried sambusas (savory stuffed pastries), thick seafood stews, and muufo (corn flatbread), fusing local ingredients with traditional flavors and recipes. On Lisbon Street, locals hang around Baraka or Mama Shukri’s Mogadishu Store for lunch of bariis ishkukaris, a spicy fried rice, or sit down at Heritage Restaurant for owner Firdosa Ali’s braised goat ribs doused with a bright chimichurri-like sauce and a twist of lime. If you can, catch Isuken Co-Op’s food truck on Sundays at the Lewiston Farmers’ Market dishing out freshly made anjero flatbreads and farm-to-table vegetable stew. “[Somali] people are coming together as a community again,” says Muhadin Libah, program manager for the Somali Bantu Community Association. “For us, Maine is home.” —Kayla Voigt

Maryland: Salvadoran cuisine

Salvadorans came to the Maryland suburbs decades ago under a federal program that allowed them to seek refuge from a civil war and, later, two earthquakes. Today, there are more than 288,000 in the region—the highest concentration in the country. Salvadoran cuisine’s best-known food is undoubtedly the pupusa, a pancake-like nixtamal corn tortilla with various fillings, often served with a tomato-based sauce and a lightly fermented cabbage slaw called curtido. The staple is thought to have originated with the country’s Indigenous Pipil peoples, and in 2005 it was declared El Salvador’s national dish.

Most Salvadoran restaurants, which can be found just north of Washington, D.C., in places like Silver Spring, Langley Park, and Wheaton, sling a variety of pupusas (try the loroco flower), along with beefy sopa de mondongo, or stew with tripe, cassava, cabbage, and plantains; tamales; and quesadilla Salvadoreña, a sweet cake made with queso fresco. Wash it all down with the national drink, ensalada, a juice served with chunks of fruit. Sisters Elsy Carolina Claros and Maritza, Raquel, and Nelly Hernandez own the popular Pupuseria la Familiar, which has multiple Maryland locations. For their signature dish, they use an original recipe from their mother, who once had a pupusa stall in the Salvadoran city of Cojutepeque. Also in the area and worth checking out are Los Churros, Irene’s Pupusas, Samantha’s Restaurant, Pupuseria Lengua truck, and El Comalito. —Devorah Lev-Tov

Massachusetts: Armenian cuisine

Watertown—10 minutes from Boston on a good-traffic day—has the third largest population of Armenians in America. Following the genocide after World War I (today, less than a third of Armenians worldwide live in Armenia), Armenians made this town their home. With them, they brought a culinary tradition of unmatched mezze, plenty of mint and parsley, and kebabs on kebabs.

When Armenians brought their cuisine to Massachusetts, they opened businesses to share it too. One of the best is Watertown’s Sevan's Bakery, where you can find cheese assortments that include braided, nigella-studded string cheeses and briny, never-dry feta spreads. But don't sleep on their freshly baked goods, like boregs (phyllo pastries stuffed with cheese), choregs (sweet, milky breads), and bogachas (savory hand pies filled with meat, cheeses, spinach, or other vegetables). A newcomer to the scene is Boston's fast-casual Anoush'ella, which specializes in flatbreads baked on a saj, a hot, convex dome. Slather it with labne, a smooth and tangy strained yogurt, which also goes well with everything else you’re eating. —Alex Erdekian

Michigan: Chaldean cuisine

Chaldeans—Aramaic-speaking, Eastern Rite Catholics—arrived in Detroit as early as 1910 in search of religious freedom and economic opportunity in Ford’s auto factories; most landed in a neighborhood on the city’s northern edge that came to be known as Chaldean Town. Today, the Detroit metro area is home to between 121,000 and 160,000 Chaldeans—the largest concentration outside of Iraq—and remains one of the best places to try flavorful Chaldean dishes, which are seasoned with spices like cumin and cardamom and include kofta and kebab (skewered and grilled meats), gurgur (beef cooked with onions and bulgur), maraka (a tangy vegetable-and-herb stew that sometimes features kubba, or dumplings), and takhratha’d pusra (meat pies).

There are two remaining Chaldean spots in Chaldean Town, which suffered a decline along with the rest of Detroit in the 1990s and 2000s: Sullaf restaurant and S&J Meats. (Many Chaldeans have since made their way to Detroit’s surrounding suburbs, bringing their restaurants with them, including Sahara, Kubba House, and Anaam’s Palate.) A new generation of Chaldean Detroiters is also striving to keep the traditions alive. Suzanne Lossia, who learned to cook from her grandmother and mother, recently opened Suzi’s Bar & Grill in South Lyon, where diners will find Chaldean twists on American bar food. For sweets, Pastry Guru is known for extravagant wedding cakes and Middle Eastern–American mash-ups like baklava cheesecake. —Devorah Lev-Tov

Minnesota: Hmong cuisine

The Twin Cities have the nation’s highest metro-area population of Hmong residents. During the Vietnam War, the Hmong people of Laos were recruited to fight for the U.S. in exchange for eventual American citizenship. After the war ended in 1975, many Hmong resettled in the U.S. permanently with help from Minnesotans.

The refugees established bustling marketplaces that doubled as food halls, showcasing a cuisine characterized by fresh-grilled meats, vegetables, and plenty of spicy peppers and hot sauce. At St. Paul’s Hmong Village, a second generation now offers their own updates on those ’70s-era food stalls. Visit Mai’s Kitchen and order an off-menu Hmong-style papaya salad, a fusion of the sweet, crunchy Thai style and the more savory Lao style, with an umami boost from its secret ingredient: shrimp paste. Or try Crazy Steak at Santi’s, where thin-pounded, tamarind-glazed steak comes with pepper paste and wasabi sauce on the side. One breakout star of the Twin Cities' dining scene is Yia Vang, owner of Minneapolis's Union Hmong Kitchen and the soon-to-open Vinai. The new spot, named for the refugee camp where Vang was born, will serve spatchcocked whole grilled chicken, taro chips with cotija, and Hmong tater tot hot dish, which transforms the Midwest casserole into a flavorful mix of roasted root veggies, pork, and red curry gravy, topped off with tater tots, scallion, and a squeeze of lime. —Julie Kendrick

Mississippi: Delta-Mexican cuisine

The story of Mississippi Delta tamales mirrors that of the blues, with improvisation and mystery surrounding both origins. As early as 1908, Mexican laborers were recruited to pick cotton in the Delta, and it is likely that the initial wave of Latino migrants introduced tamales to the region. By the 1930s, tamales were a staple in juke joints, though more commonly prepared with corn meal (instead of traditional masa) in southern kitchens. The late Joe Pope traced the lineage of the recipe at his White Front Café in Rosedale to a Depression-era Mexican immigrant, but he made it his own. Pope’s slow-simmered spicy tamales are made with beef, but pork and other variations can be found throughout the Delta. The region’s food and music come together in The Mississippi Blues Trail marker outside the White Front, now run by Pope’s sisters. Let Robert Johnson’s “They’re Red Hot” begin the soundtrack for a trip filled with blues and hot tamales, found at additional stops like Hot Tamale Heaven in Greenville or at Abe’s Bar-B-Q in Clarksdale. —W. Ralph Eubanks

Missouri: Bosnian cuisine

St. Louis has the largest population of Bosnians outside of Sarajevo, with the first wave of immigrants, displaced by the Bosnian War, arriving in the 1990s. Most now live in the Little Bosnia neighborhood of Bevo Mill, which is full of Bosnian restaurants. Bosnian food is heavily influenced by the Ottoman Empire, with regional variations on grilled meats and ćevapi sausages, served with varying spices, spreads, and breads.

Balkan Treat Box is the newest example of Bosnian food with a St. Louis influence. Both a food truck and restaurant in Webster Groves just west of St. Louis, the fast-casual concept bridges the gap between true Bosnian recipes and backyard barbecue, with fresh baked bread, grilled meats, and vegetables. Chef Loryn Nalic serves her ćevapi Sarajevo-style, which means they’re grilled over wood with 5 or 10 per order and are stuffed inside of a somun (airy, soft pita bread) with diced raw onions and kajmak cheese. Pljeskavica is described as a Balkan burger but topped with ajvar—roasted red pepper relish—instead of ketchup. In Bevo Mill itself, Taft Street Restaurant & Bar and Grbic standout. Here you'll find klepe, a Balkan version of Turkish manti (minced meat dumplings) and stuffed cabbage rolls called sarma. The Grbic family also recently opened Lemmons, where the smoked hot wings are glazed in rakija, a Balkan brandy that adds a Bosnian touch to a Missouri favorite. —Amber Gibson

Montana: Cornish cuisine

With some 4,000 years of mining know-how under their belts, the Cornish (a Celtic ethnic minority from southwestern England) were in-demand laborers across the globe in the 19th century, and the diaspora quickly spread to mining camps in the upper Midwest and then Butte, Montana—“the richest hill on Earth.” The Cornish brought with them portable pasties (“pass-tees”), savory turnovers filled with beef, potatoes, and onions, which made for perfect lunch-pail meals for the miners.

The last of the mines closed in 1983, but Butte residents are still mad for the meat pies, which can be found at such dedicated bakeries as Nancy’s Pasty Shop and Joe’s Pasty Shop. In a nod to midcentury American caloric maximalism, many restaurants in town have transformed the handheld snack into a hearty supper by covering it in gravy or chili, cheese, and onions—so much for the pasty’s prized portability. —Nicholas DeRenzo

Nebraska: Czech cuisine

Of all the states in the Union, Nebraska contains more citizens of Czech or Czechoslovakian heritage than any other. In fact, 4.8 percent of Nebraskans list this ancestry, which is more than double the next highest state. Most Czech immigrants made Nebraska their home before the beginning of World War I, settling in Omaha, the state’s largest city and home today to the Czech and Slovak Educational Center and Cultural Museum. The Czech immigrants created an enclave known as Little Bohemia, now one of Omaha’s trendiest areas.

For nearly 100 years the beloved Bohemian Cafe in Omaha’s Little Bohemia was the place for Czech deliciousness in the state. It closed in 2019 but is now the Infusion Little Bohemia Beer Hall, which continues the old traditions with Czech dinner events and even the occasional polka band. You can also find notable Czech food (sweet and savory kolache, potato dumplings, roast duck, and sauerkraut) at Kolache Korner Cafe in the tiny (and appropriately named) town of Prague, or at the Foxhole Tavern or annual Czech Days festival each August in Wilber, a.k.a. the Czech capital of the United States. —Katy Spratte Joyce

Nevada: Thai Isan cuisine

Las Vegas’s sizable Thai subculture dates back to the Vietnam War, when American soldiers began to return with “war brides” they had married during trips to Thailand. Many were Thai Isan, or ethnic Lao from the northeastern region of Isan, where the cuisine is heavy on sticky rice, barbecued meats, and bright salads, like som tum (green papaya salad)—all flavored with chilies, fresh herbs, and pla ra (funky fermented fish).

Sin City is full of generic pad thai joints, but it’s worth seeking out these less expected flavors. At Lotus of Siam, James Beard–winner Saipin Chutima cooks dishes from across Thailand, including Isan standouts minced catfish larb, koi soi (beef tartare), and craveable sai krok (fermented pork sausage). Weera Thai, meanwhile, offers an entire menu section dedicated to Isan dishes, such as tom zap (pork rib soup) and dad deaw (sun-dried beef jerky). —Nicholas DeRenzo

Honorable Mention: While Clark County may be the hub for the Thai diaspora, northern Nevada is famed for its rustic Basque restaurants, where the descendants of immigrant shepherds serve meat-centric menus, filled with pickled beef tongue, fried sweetbreads, and oxtail stew. Try the Star Hotel in Elko, which has been around for more than a century.

New Hampshire: French-Canadian cuisine

In the late 19th century, Quebecois and Acadian French-Canadians flooded into New England to work in the area’s numerous textile mills, settling in towns like Manchester, New Hampshire; Lowell, Massachusetts; and Lewiston, Maine.

The most noteworthy French-Canadian restaurant in New Hampshire is Chez Vachon in Manchester, a casual diner where the fluffy crepes and Montreal-style smoked meat are high notes. The Canadian-American influences are a bit more subtle throughout the rest of the state's food, but it’s there if you know where to look: Keep an eye out for chicken liver pâté and baked beans on menus everywhere, and poutine is a favorite at numerous bistros and breweries all over, especially up north near the Canadian border. The Tap House Grille in Hooksett, Tuckaway Tavern and Butchery in Raymond, and Gilley’s Diner in Portsmouth are all experts at flawlessly smothering their fries with globs of brown gravy and clumps of squeaky cheese curds. —Todd Plummer

New Jersey: Ghanaian cuisine

The Ghanaian diaspora to the U.S. began with small numbers of immigrants arriving as early as the 1970s. Twenty years later, a version of a diversity visa program, which was originally initiated to enable more European immigration, came to benefit West African countries like Nigeria, the Ivory Coast, Senegal, and Ghana, whose citizens began relocating in larger numbers starting in the 1990s. Many Ghanaians settled in northern and central New Jersey cities like Newark and Union, leading to a rush of new restaurants, established to serve the influx. The food of Ghana is as diverse as its regions; for example, millet and sorghum-based dishes are often found inland, in the north, while seafood is more prominent near the southern coast edging the Atlantic. However, staples like yam, corn, cassava, and rice can be found throughout the country, and are reflected in the menus of New Jersey’s Ghanaian restaurants. At Asanka Cuisine in Somerset, the rice served with a savory, spicy tomato-based stew is a staple, while at Newark's Ghanaianway Grocery & Restaurant, you can't miss the banku (made from a dough of fermented corn and cassava, and cooked over the stove) with tilapia, which comes with meko, a fresh tomato-pepper sauce, and shito, a spicy condiment made from peppers. —Vonnie Williams

Honorable mention: The Garden State is also home to the largest Peruvian enclave in the United States. Immigrants began moving to the city of Paterson in the 1950s in search of textile factory jobs—but as these began to disappear, many Peruvians pivoted to opening their own businesses, including restaurants, in a part of town often called Little Lima. Try the tallarines verdes con bistec (Peruvian-style green noodles with steak) at La Tia Delia, a community favorite for almost 30 years.

New Mexico: New Mexican cuisine

“Red or green?” That’s the official state question in New Mexico, a reference to the type of chile one prefers with one’s meal. (It’s “Christmas” for both.) The ingredient is a key component of local cooking and agriculture across the state, where bunches of dried chiles called ristras hang from houses, and it’s found in just about every New Mexican dish. Every year in August and September, the state celebrates Hatch chile season with a festival in the Hatch Valley region, where the sought-after chile peppers are grown. New Mexican food has a strong Southwestern culinary identity, blending distinct flavors bought over by Spanish colonists in the 16th century and Native American cultures—with corn, chile peppers, and roasting techniques originating from the latter.

There are a variety of exceptional restaurants, food trucks, and James Beard Award–nominated chefs to be found across the state. In Santa Fe, try La Choza for carne adovada (slow-cooked pork in red chile sauce), posole (red chile pork-and-hominy stew), stacked red or green chile enchiladas at The Shed, and breakfast burritos at Pantry or Cafe Pasqual’s. Meanwhile the chile rellenos and stuffed sopapillas at Mary & Tito’s, green chile stew at Cocina Azul, and red chile sauce at Sadie’s are a must in Albuquerque. Don’t leave the state without trying tamales, calabacitas (a side dish of sautéed summer squash, corn, onions, and peppers), biscochitos (state cookies), and a green chile cheeseburger or Frito pie. —Carrie Mitchell

New York: Guyanese cuisine

In the 1960s, New York City saw an influx of Guyanese immigrants, many of whom came in search of better work opportunities. They settled in Richmond Hill, Queens, a neighborhood often referred to as Little Guyana, as well as the Flatbush area of Brooklyn, where the Guyanese community comprises a vibrant part of what’s known as Little Caribbean. With them came Guyanese food—a cuisine that draws from numerous influences, including African, Indian, European, Portuguese, Indigenous, and Chinese cultures.

In 1976, Sybil Bernard-Kerrutt opened her namesake restaurant, Sybil’s, one of New York City’s first Guyanese eateries. It’s still bustling today. Try the pepperpot, a delicious stew that includes meats like oxtail, pig tails, and goat, and ingredients like cinnamon and cassava cassareep, a syrupy black sauce created by Guyanese Amerindians. At Hibiscus Restaurant & Bar, a Guyanese Chinese spot in Richmond Hill, you’ll find a lip-smacking variety of dishes like fish cakes, ginger lamb, and chicken fried rice; refreshing homemade drinks like mauby (made from the bark of a small indigenous tree, with a sweet-bitter flavor that's similar to root beer) and sorrel (made from Hibiscus flowers) are also must-tries. German’s Soup, a landmark restaurant in Guyana, recently moved from its East Flatbush location to a larger spot in Crown Heights, where it continues to serve its famous soups and Creole dishes. Be sure to try the popular cow-heel soup and stewed snapper meal. —Alica Ramkirpal-Senhouse

Honorable mention: In Jackson Heights, you’ll find restaurants serving Colombian eats. Head to Arepa Lady—the brick-and-mortar outfit that grew from Medellín transplant Maria Cano’s food cart—for the flavorful arepa de choclo, made of ground-up fresh corn and served with white cheese. At La Pequeña Colombia, a longtime neighborhood hub, New York City Council Member Francisco Moya recommends the plato montañero (literally, “the plate from the mountain”) con carne asada.

North Carolina: Ocracoke cuisine

To get to wild and enchanting Ocracoke Island, located on the southern end of the Outer Banks, most visitors arrive by boat. On the 9.6-square-mile barrier island, the customs, language, and food of the Indigenous Woccon people have incorporated some of the traditions of the English colonizers and pirates who have come across their land. You can taste that history in Ocracoke’s cuisine. The islanders have always foraged the sea and land for sustenance, and, unsurprisingly, seafood is a focal point of the cuisine: clam fritters, boiled drumfish, and stewed crab. Yet it’s a luscious fig cake, borne out of a happy accident when local baker Margaret Garrish was out of the dates a cake recipe called for, that represents the independence and ingenuity of Ocracoke cuisine.

On the island, visitors can find traditional dishes liked grilled drum fish at Flying Melon Café, crab omelets at Pony Island, and fig cake at Sweet Tooth & Fig Tree Bakery and Deli. Every August, locals bake fig cakes for the annual Fig Festival, and in the fall, Ocracoke Alive’s Ocrafolk School hosts tasting tours and cooking classes with island chefs—experiences that allow guests to try the food while hearing the stories that go along with it. —Bridget Shirvell

North Dakota: Norwegian cuisine

A lack of farmland in their home country led Norwegians to homestead across North Dakota in the 1870s, a wave of migration that lasted into the early 1900s. Today, North Dakotans of Norwegian descent are the Peace Garden State’s largest ethnic group, one that has held onto its hearty culinary traditions over the years to an extent that’s hard to find in many other places in the U.S.

If you’re looking to sample some of that tradition, cultural events are the way to go. Norsk Hostfest, the nation’s largest Scandinavian festival, is an annual autumnal event that offers all the dishes you know and many you probably don’t. You’ll find krumkake (waffle-esque cookies), rømmegrøt pudding, and lutefisk (a dried yet somehow gelatinous white fish). You’ll also find En to Tre, a Norwegian fine-dining experience, if you prefer something more elevated.

For adventurers who love the road less traveled, North Dakota winters are an excellent time to sample Norwegian food in one of the most time-honored ways possible: at Williston’s First Lutheran Church’s annual Lutefisk Dinner, which will be hosting its 88th annual event this February. —Cinnamon Janzer

Ohio: Himalayan cuisine

Ohio’s capital city, Columbus, is home to some 30,000 Bhutanese-Nepalese immigrants, and Morse Road on the northeast side of the city features a slew of markets and restaurants that showcase this culture. Ramesh Adhikari operates one such place, Namaste Indo-Nepali Cuisine. Adhikari, who was born in a refugee camp in Nepal and resettled with his family in Columbus as a child, serves what he calls “Indian food with a Nepali twist.” The restaurant’s meat and vegetarian thukpas–a noodle soup that has its roots in Tibet–is a standout offering.

Also on this stretch is Saraga International Grocery. While most customers come to pick up ingredients and packaged foods from all over the world, insiders know it as home to Momo Ghar. It’s run by Phuntso and Pramod Lama, who hail from Tibet and Nepal, respectively. The small restaurant’s name translates to “dumpling house,” and the owners serve nine different types of made-from-scratch momos, the steamed dumplings popular in the Himalayan region. The restaurant has an outpost in downtown’s North Market and will soon open in the northwest suburb of Dublin, greatly expanding access to the Lamas’ hearty dumplings and freshly made sauces. —Nicole Rasul

Oklahoma: Zomi Burmese cuisine

The Zomi people, who mostly come from the mountainous region of Chin State in Myanmar, have faced persecution, job loss, and poverty due to their Christian beliefs in a predominantly Buddhist country. Many attained refugee status and were resettled throughout the U.S. over the past few decades, a large number eventually ending up in Tulsa, where there’s now an estimated Zomi population of around 7,000.

At a strip mall on the south side of the city are two spots run by Zomi Burmese restaurateurs. Zomi cuisine is characterized by its emphasis on corn-based foods, but these restaurants feature more general Burmese and Asian dishes. Kai Burmese Cuisine serves items including beef curry or myi oo-mee shii, noodles served in a clay pot. Zogam Café is run by Suan Mang, a Zomi refugee whose menu leans more pan-Asian, including mie goreng, inspired by his time in Malaysia. Don’t miss the fresh juices and flavorful smoothies, which come in flavors like mango, strawberry, blueberry, and honeydew. —Kristi Eaton

Oregon: Slavic cuisine

Oregon has the largest number of Russian-speaking people per capita, but the insularity of the mostly Slavic Christian community has meant that until recently public interaction with that heritage came only at a few East Portland markets like Roman and Imperial or at the occasional church fundraisers selling pierogi.

Then, in 2014, Portland’s Kachka opened, and chef Bonnie Morales’s pickle plates and Instagram-darling Herring Under a Fur Coat dish—a colorful layered salad of fish, root vegetables, and egg—showed Portland diners the rainbow of flavors within Russian cuisine. As her lamb lyulya kebabs and pickle platters introduced newcomers to Slavic cuisine, fellow Belarusian chef Vitaly Paley started pop-ups featuring his native dishes. Eventually, he wove those flavors, with standouts like tiny uskhi dumplings filled with sweet corn, into the menu of his Northwest bistro Paley’s Place.

Today, Portlanders can also pick up Slavic dumplings from the Pelmeni Pelmeni cart or stop by Morales’s latest, Kachka Lavka, a café and marketplace, for frozen ones to take home—along with treats like rooster-shaped lollipops, a Soviet staple produced locally for almost 30 years. —Naomi Tomky

Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania Dutch cuisine

Long before cheesesteaks and Tastykakes, the German-speaking Pennsylvania Dutch, who first settled in southeastern Pennsylvania in the 17th century, established a cuisine—influenced by their German heritage and agrarian society—that still thrives in the region today. Standouts include pork scrapple, chicken corn soup, hard and soft pretzels, and crustless pot pies swimming with chewy egg noodles.

You can order a side of pan-fried scrapple at almost any diner in the region, but we recommend piling your plate with ham and sauerkraut from the 200-foot-long buffet at Shady Maple Smorgasbord in Lancaster County. (If you’re hooked on scrapple, make a detour for the made-from-scratch smoked fish version at Sulimay’s in Fishtown, served with a runny egg and house-pickled long hots.) For a more elevated experience, visit Philly's white-tablecloth BYOB Elwood, chef Adam Diltz’s heartfelt homage to his Pennsylvania Dutch roots, where dinner might include a venison scrapple amuse-bouche or whole roasted rabbit. Dessert is funnel cake—but the restaurant’s take on the state fair staple comes with a purée made with grapes grown on Diltz’s grandma’s property in Columbia County. —Regan Stephens

Honorable mention: Philadelphia doesn’t have a Little Italy, per se, but that’s only because Italian cuisine is so woven into the fabric of the city (particularly, South Philly). Stop at red gravy joints like Ralph's (America’s oldest Italian restaurant) and Mr. Joe’s for classics like veal parmesan; or book a table at Vetri Cucina, Le Virtu, or Fiore for handmade regional pasta from the mother country.

Puerto Rico: Puerto Rican Chinese cuisine

Though there are few people of Chinese descent on the island—per U.S. Census estimates, 1,757 out of 3 million in 2018—the impact of Chinese immigrants on Puerto Rican cuisine is indelible. Chinese food (and dishes influenced by it) are found throughout the island, often casually mixed with local flavors. Think pepper steak, served with a side of Puerto Rico’s iconic mofongo. Is it traditional? No. Will it arrive in Styrofoam containers on plastic trays? Yes. Will it also come with fries? Probably. It all adds to the charm and appeal.

For the very best on the island, go to Confianza China. It’s slightly out of the way—about a 20-minute drive (without traffic) from Old San Juan—and in a strip mall. But the tostones (twice-fried smashed plantains drenched in a sweet and pungent caramelized garlic sauce) might just be the best on the island. Then there’s the arroz chino. It’s not that different from regular fried rice, but Boricuas swear that the thick cubes of sweetened ham make it that much better. If you’re road tripping south to Ponce, Kam Ying in Caguas is a must-stop. —Lorenzo Reyes

Rhode Island: Cape Verdean cuisine

Many in New England trace their ancestry to the Portugese whaling crews who frequented the shores in the 19th century, but it wasn’t just mainland Portuguese and Azorean sailors on those vessels. Also aboard were crew from Cape Verde, a rocky archipelago off the western coast of Africa, then a Portuguese colony. Even after the end of the commercial whaling boom at the turn of the 20th century, many joined their relatives and settled along New England’s rocky coast.

Pawtucket, Rhode Island’s fourth-largest city, became a hub of Cape Verdean culture and is today home to nearly 10,000 people who claim Cape Verdean heritage. It’s an ideal place to sample the archipelago's cuisine, which uniquely blends West African and Southern European flavors. Start with the national dish, cachupa—a slow-cooked stew of dried maize, beans, cassava, and beef, fish, or blood sausage—and expect plenty of seafood. Pawtucket’s 10 Rocks offers a modern take on traditional dishes, with shareable tapas like grilled octopus served over fried plantains and a cocktail list that includes ponche, made with cane-derived rum, and grogue, all beside live music. For fewer frills but as much flavor, check out Pawtucket community hubs like Monte Cara and Cantinho. Time your visit for July’s Cape Verde Independence Day festival in nearby Providence to fully experience morabeza, the uniquely Cape Verdean form of hospitality—and come hungry. —Sebastian Modak

South Carolina: Gullah cuisine

Gullah cuisine, popular among the natives of the Low Country region—which comprises the rural and coastal areas of South Carolina, Georgia, and northern Florida—is fundamental to understanding the genesis of American cooking. The people who call this place and cuisine their own, the Gullah Geechee, are direct descendants of West African captives brought to America during the Transatlantic Slave Trade. The West Africans brought their own traditions, adapting their cooking fundamentals to the climate and available crops of the southeast. Gullah cuisine is anchored by standards like Frogmore stew (a shrimp-and-crab mix heavy with potatoes) and the famed Hoppin’ John, which combines peas, bacon or another smoked meat, onions, and rice.

You’ll need to go to the coastal areas to find these dishes. The community is struggling against the firm hand of modernization, as Gullah culture overall is slowly fading into the past. At St. Helena Island’s The Gullah Grub, there’s a dedication to tradition, with ingredients and cooking methods similar to how things were done generations ago. The mac and cheese is spirit lifting, the fish chowder is perfectly seasoned, and a bite of the sweet potato pie will make you want to meet the sous chef and give out a hug or two. —Khalid Salaam

South Dakota: Lakota cuisine

After 17th-century clashes with the Cree and Anishinaabe, the Lakota settled on land that is now part of North and South Dakota, land that was eventually stolen after the U.S. government reneged on the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868 and General Custer and company discovered gold in the Black Hills in the 1870s. The Lakota people were forced to quickly adapt to their environment in the Dakotas, centering their diet on Indigenous food sources like North American bison alongside other game, fish, vegetables, and berries that were hunted, traded, or foraged. Chef Sean Sherman, who grew up in South Dakota, organized a celebration of these flavors with the first annual Lakota Food Summit, held in 2020 in Rapid City.

For those looking for more regular opportunities to try Lakota dishes, chef Chef Randy Janis's menu at Laughing Water Restaurant in Crazy Horse offers both a tatanka (buffalo) stew and a dessert featuring wojapi, a deep purple berry sauce usually made with chokecherries, a summertime fruit that flourishes across the state. For a more intimate experience, look to Kimberly Tilsen-Brave Heart’s Etiquette Catering, which offers Indigenous foods with vegetarian and allergen-friendly options. —Cinnamon Janzer

Tennessee: Kurdish cuisine

Nashville might be best known for hot chicken, but just a few miles south of Hattie B’s a just-as-delicious contribution to the city’s food scene is on full display. Kebabs, skewered, spiced, and grilled to order; dolma, a medley of vegetables diced and wrapped in grape leaves; flatbreads that fly right onto your plate, too hot to touch. Welcome to Little Kurdistan, home to the majority of the 15,000 Kurds in Nashville.

Since the first Kurds arrived in Tennessee in the 1970s, fleeing the violence of the Iraqi-Kurdish War, others from Iran, Turkey, Syria, and throughout the region of northern Iraq known as Kurdistan have followed. Today, a vibrant Kurdish community in southern Nashville (the largest in the States) reflects this exodus. While the best meals are certainly cooked at home—with ingredients for mainstays like biryani sold in local markets—there are options for visitors, too. Start with the unassuming House of Kabob, where the dolma and tabbouleh are just as delicious as the restaurant’s namesake dish. From there, head to Edessa, which focuses on the clay-pot dishes and flaky pastries of Kurds in Turkey. —Sebastian Modak

Texas: Lao cuisine

By the end of the war in neighboring Vietnam, Laos was the most bombed country in history. In the following decades, thousands of Laotian refugees would settle in Texas, opening wats (temples), grocery stores, and dozens of strip-mall Laotian restaurants primarily in the Dallas area. Four decades later, Dallas is a bona fide Laotian food destination—and there’s no doubt that Lao food plays a big role in its current status as a food city after sitting in the shadow of Houston and Austin for years.

For all its bold flavors, which somewhat resemble those of northeastern Thai food, Lao food in Dallas has remained uncompromised for Western palates. At Sapp Sapp in downtown Irving, for example, you'll find the most common Lao noodle soups, like fiery boat noodles and the crimson-hued, fish-based kapoon. That said, Donny Sirisavath of East Dallas’s Khao Noodle Shop and other newcomers continue to push the boundaries of what constitutes Lao—and American—cuisine. At his restaurant, the tapioca rice noodles may still be made by hand the Lao way, but tripe chicharrones are 100 percent Texan.

Looking for more? Check out first-generation mainstays like Nalinh Market, the takeout-only Sabaidee, and Saap Lao Kitchen, the beloved Laotian flash-fried jerky company run by five family members, all spread across the Dallas–Fort Worth metroplex. —Dan Q. Dao

Utah: Indigenous Southwestern foods of the Diné people of the Navajo Nation

The Indigenous foods of the Diné people of the Navajo Nation have evolved in a number of ways, while still honoring cultural traditions. Among the many restaurants and food stands between Salt Lake City and Utah’s five national parks, Black Sheep Café in Provo is a standout. Siblings Bleu Adams and Mark Daniel Mason opened Black Sheep Café with the goal of marrying Navajo dishes from their childhood with flavor profiles of the Southwest, resulting in dishes like green-chile-and-pork Navajo tacos and hog-jowl nachos. Pueblo breads are at the heart of most of the items on the menu, like the Black Sheep Burger on a nanniskadii bun or Navajo tacos on fry bread.

For another immersive culinary experience connected to Indigenous landscapes and cultural memory, visit during the annual Utah Indigenous Dinner in October. Hosted by nonprofit organization Utah Diné Bikéyah, the meal spotlights foraged ingredients like sumac berries, piñon nuts, wild onions, amaranth, and more. —Danielle Susi

Vermont: Abenaki cuisine

Long before Burlington was a gourmet's destination known for its cheese, craft beer, maple syrup, and third-wave coffee shops, the Abenaki people hunted, foraged, and farmed this region. Corn, beans, and squash—the “three sisters” crops grown together symbiotically—provided the core of Abenaki cuisine, which also relied on local fish and game, nuts and acorns, blueberries, cherries, and raspberries.

Chef Jessee Lawyer is the region’s guiding star when it comes to promoting the native cuisine. A card-carrying member of the Abenaki Nation of the Missisquoi, Lawyer makes his living cooking up some of Vermont’s best pub food at Sweetwaters—but has been known to put Abenaki specials on the menu, as well as offer one-off Abenaki pop-up dinners at both Sweetwaters and other Burlington-area restaurants. Lawyer’s cooking represents a decolonization of Abenaki favorites, such as squash three ways; duck with toasted polenta, blueberry glaze, and sunchoke chips; and maple-brûléed squash with wild rice and roasted squash seeds. And while there isn’t a dedicated Abenaki restaurant in Vermont (yet), the continued growth and success of Lawyer’s specials and pop-up dinners mean that could very well change someday soon. —Todd Plummer

Virginia: Lebanese cuisine

When Lebanese immigrants first landed at Ellis Island in the late 1880s, many soon relocated to Roanoke, Virginia. The city and surrounding mountains served as the Norfolk and Western Railway hub, offering industrial jobs—and the opportunity to feed hungry workers. Initially, restaurants shied away from serving Lebanese dishes; at Aesy’s Restaurant, which opened in the 1940s, burgers and fries reigned, though the owners served select patrons off-menu specials (which they now share at the annual Roanoke Lebanese Festival). But when more immigrants began to arrive in the ‘70s, prompted by the outbreak of a civil war, these arrivals embraced the foods of their homeland; and nowadays, there are plenty of places to sample the country’s cuisine.

In Roanoke, Cedars Lebanese Restaurant serves stuffed grape leaves and fatayer, or small, triangular spinach pies; Natalie’s Taste of Lebanon in Richmond is famous for Martha’s Namoura, a cake drizzled with rose water and orange blossom syrup. Lebanese Taverna, opened by the Abi-Najm family in Arlington in 1979, now has 12 outposts in the region. Diners come for spiced beef and kibbeh, or lamb fritters, and mouzat, a dish with lamb, artichoke, and chickpeas. It pairs well with imported wine from Lebanon’s Beqaa Valley—a sign of the next wave of Lebanese influence in Virginia. —Jennifer Prince

Washington: Filipino cuisine

When the first Filipino immigrants came to Seattle, in the late 1880s, they adapted traditional home-cooked dishes to incorporate the ingredients available to them in the Pacific Northwest. Many early arrivals worked in fish canneries and found ways to use local salmon scraps in familiar foods like sinigang (sour tamarind soup)—a menu staple at Pike Place Market’s Oriental Mart, the beloved elder statesman of the city’s Filipino food scene.

More recently, creative chefs are celebrating the intersection of their Filipino and Pacific Northwest identities by combining ingredients and techniques in innovative, yet ultimately familiar, dishes: ube cheesecakes fill the pastry case at Hood Famous Bakeshop, and calamansi stars in Barkada’s Manila Ice Slushie cocktail. At Aaron Verzosa’s Archipelago, sinigang evolves again, with locally grown green apple providing the signature sourness, while at Musang, Melissa Miranda serves tequila with a rhubarb-based sinigang chaser. —Naomi Tomky

Washington, D.C.: Ethiopian cuisine

Washington, D.C., has been a destination for Ethiopian people since after WWII, when students came for their education—and some stayed. Howard University, the iconic historically Black university, welcomed Ethiopians with its diverse, pan-African-influenced environment. When a military dictatorship seized power in 1974, it prompted larger-scale emigration to the U.S. Over time, a diverse extension of the Ethiopian diaspora emerged (today, the city is home to one of the largest Ethiopian populations outside of Addis Ababa), and a nationally inspired cuisine followed.

In Georgetown, fine-dining restaurant Das offers family-style dishes with servings of kitfo (a minced raw beef) or gomen (collard greens cooked down with onion and garlic), and shiro wat (seasoned chickpea flour in a tomato-pepper sauce). Dukem, with multiple locations in D.C. and surrounding areas, is a favorite for its sambusa pastries filled with peppery lentils; foul (sounds like “fool”), a rich, stewed fava bean breakfast dish; and assorted wots, or stews featuring various proteins. Wherever you eat, injera is required—the tangy, spongy bread made from the ancient teff grain. As utensil and side, it’s the backbone of most meals. —Osayi Endolyn

West Virginia: Appalachian cuisine

Appalachian cuisine draws from many influences. Native American cultivation and cooking techniques were blended with food traditions brought by settlers from Western Europe and, in West Virginia, immigrants who came from Italy and Eastern Europe to work in the state’s coal mines. Stop in almost any gas station, grocery store, or bakery for a pepperoni roll, the creation of Italian coal-mining immigrants and a cornerstone of Appalachian cuisine in West Virginia that has become the state’s official food.

Seldom celebrated in depictions of Appalachian culture and cuisine is the influence of African Americans. Some were enslaved laborers in southern West Virginia’s salt industry before the Civil War. Others came during the coal mining boom of the late 19th and early 20th century, or, later, to escape Jim Crow laws in the Deep South. At Dem 2 Brothers & A Grill, chef and owner Adrian Wright’s collard greens, baked beans, and roasted corn nod to Appalachians’ longtime reliance on heirloom varieties of vegetables. Like Wright’s popular pulled pork sandwiches and brown-sugar-spiced ribs, these soul food favorites are made with techniques he learned from his parents—and are a reminder of the role of the African diaspora in the state’s rich cultural history. —Lindsay Lambert Day

Wisconsin: German cuisine

In the mid-to-late 1800s, more than 200,000 Germans immigrated to Wisconsin; some came to escape the political upheaval of the 1848 German Revolution and others for better opportunities, such as access to farmland. Some of their most notable culinary traditions—namely, beer and sausage—took hold in the region and are a key part of Wisconsin culture today.

There’s no better place to taste Wisconsin’s German influence than Milwaukee. Visit long-standing institution Mader’s Restaurant for traditional dishes like roast pork shank with sauerkraut and head to Usinger’s to stock up on tubes of garlicky summer sausage. The city’s German scene has picked up some distinctly Wisconsin influences too. Vanguard serves house-made sausages, like a cheddar-and-pickled-jalapeño bratwurst, that you can order topped with fried cheese curds. It’s even better with a Lakefront Brewery lager. —Amy Cavanaugh

Honorable mention: The influence of Scandinavian immigrants is evident on the Door County peninsula, where Al Johnson’s Swedish pancakes and the White Gull Inn’s outdoor fish boils—giant pots filled with local whitefish and red potatoes set aflame—are must-tries.

Wyoming: Chuckwagon cuisine

Wandering cowboys once subsisted solely on victuals that would fit in their saddlebags. That changed in 1886 when cattle drives from Texas began to expand north to Wyoming. To feed all the cowherders on the months-long, thousand-mile journey, cooks retrofitted old grain or army wagons to create a traveling kitchen—a chuckwagon. The menu consisted mostly of baked beans, biscuits, and black coffee. Today, across the Cowboy State, the down-home cooking continues, albeit with fresher ingredients and a few additions like wood-fired steaks and blackberry cobbler. In Jackson Hole, the Bar-T 5 Covered Wagon Cookout & Show transports guests in covered wagons to an alfresco meal accompanied by a hootenanny, an homage to campfire singalongs. It’s a little hokey but also truly charming. You can dive a little deeper at the Buffalo Bill Center of the West in Cody with historian Rich Herman and his wife, Debbie, as they prepare dutch oven suppers from an original 1902 chuckwagon, including an award-winning recipe for trail beans that dates to the 1860s. —Tommie Ethington