The team behind the artist-rendered sourdough pies at Lupo in Fremont took two geographic swerves: the first to a storefront in Olde Burien, the second to the East Coast’s tradition of crisp, but foldable pizza slices. Arcade games and sticker vending machines set the scene for a slice joint hangout, not a self-aggrandizing pizza temple. But the crust is clearly the work of dough obsessives. It might come as a 16-inch pie shingled with curled-up pepperoni, or as a slice of the signature Normie Mac Donald, topped with sliced coppa, dollops of burrata, and drizzles of hot honey. The pair of side salads and the housemade ice cream could hold their own on a white tablecloth, but feel more at home here amid plastic water tumblers and paper plates.

An intimate omakase counter hidden at the end of a Madison Park alleyway is bound to be charming. But Yasutaka Suzuki’s nigiri doesn’t rely on the novelty of its surroundings to impress you (though the presidential theme in the bathroom is pretty cool). Suzuki, a former partner at Sushi Kashiba, tweaks his menus with the microseasons and his rice temperatures to perfectly backdrop each specific fish. He’s an exacting chef, but before an audience of diners he’s joyful, even prone to giggles. Seattle’s seen a flurry of new high-end sushi counters lately, but this one immediately entered our upper echelons of omakase. 

On its face, it sounds simple: a diner-type spot in Little Saigon that serves exactly one dish. But the family behind Phở Bắc somehow made it so much more. The boat-shaped home of Phở Bắc’s original location got a modest spruce-up and a major new focus, com ga mam toi. This dish consists of half a Cornish game hen, glazed with fish sauce, skin crisp and coated in chopped-up garlic. It comes on a platter with rice or a little sidecar of chicken broth with noodles, and a chrysanthemum greens salad that deserves its own spotlight. The whole thing is pure, sticky-handed comfort. Order it by day with a ca phe sua da or pandan iced tea, or in the evening with an adept Viet cocktail. Either way, the best meals here end with a plate of banh kep, or pandan waffles with a spoonful of coconut fluff.

Chef Gabriel Chavez previously ran the Italian kitchen at Como upstairs. Now he cooks higher-end Mexican food in a space so close to Lake Washington’s shore, you can practically touch the water from the patio's cushioned couches. El Encanto is a capital-S scene: Beautiful people with a penchant for selfies fill the deck and artsy white dining room. Whether that’s a plus or minus is up to you. But Chavez’s talent isn’t up for debate; from guacamole with totopos to a bracing jicama salad, hefty tacos or even churros with ice cream, the food is all rustic finesse. Chavez’s chile en nogada, made with daily assistance from his mom, does right by one of the world’s great dishes. And the cocktail list does right by the bar’s supply of tequila.

Kusina Filipina was a community hub and a destination for the Paraiso family’s homey adobo and sinigang. When redevelopment shuttered the restaurant in 2017, daughters Patrixia and Paula started a food truck, CheBogz, whose name and menu honored their mom and dad. All these years later,  the opening of CheBogz’s new stationary quarters in a light-filled space near the Beacon Hill light rail station feels less like an arrival, more like a homecoming. Not that you need this fantastic backstory to get restorative comfort vibes from the menu of bistec, lumpia, and the pork belly sisig served still sizzling on a cast-iron plate. Flavors at CheBogz are on the gentler end of the Filipino food spectrum, but pull you in with loving vigor.

In late August, Janet Becerra announced that her popup residency at Pair would become a permanent stay. Suddenly Seattle possessed an exciting new restaurant that had already earned its buzz. Becerra has a particular way with masa; she nixtamalizes her own corn, as evidenced by Pancita’s tortillas, brisket tacos, and tuna tostadas. But chops honed at Eden Hill, Lupo, and Mexico City’s esteemed Pujol add up to a menu with the confidence and polish of a chef who’s been running her own place for years. Pancita hallmarks include supreme pork chops, the best caesar salad of your life, and a genre-busting choco flan dessert drizzled in miso caramel. The service is already warm; the cocktails already great. A little more aesthetic influence on Pair’s dining room, and Pancita will be unstoppable.

As a food truck, it might have been the best one in town. Now, as a sandwich shop, Layers draws seemingly all of Greenlake for breakfast sandwiches (with names like Limp Brizket or Duck Norris) and Ellary Collins’s resplendent biscuits. Bringing Collins on as bread and pastry chef is just one way owners Ashley and Avery Hardin took something that was already great and leveled it the hell up. Just like in the truck days, Layers achieves sandwich greatness by viewing each creation as a fully wrought dish: tall, detail oriented, often deploying some sort of crunch. The beachy blue-and-green shop gives a permanent home to favorites like the Notorious P.I.G with roasted pork belly or the Captain Rick (tuna salad layered with potato chips). But even a classic turkey or grilled cheese here packs intrigue and texture.

At first glance, Alki’s new restaurant looks like a familiar sort of seasonal Northwest restaurant—albeit one with an enviable waterfront address. But chef Dan Mallahan takes sourcing to near-Portlandia levels, visiting multiple farmers markets, even knocking on doors of strangers with nice gardens (and making liberal use of his mom's). The result is a menu almost entirely from Washington—no citrus, no filler from California. Effort-wise, it’s a huge deal. And yet you might not even notice if you’re busy devouring the steak tartare punctuated with hazelnuts and black lentils, the pull-apart rolls with dungeness butter, and the flawlessly cooked Neah Bay cod and pork chop entrees. The bar is its own destination.

When chef Keisuke Kobayashi turned his Wallingford izakaya, Yoroshiku, into a yakitori bar, he generated offbeat, tipsy fun. Charcoal grills add flavor to skewers of chicken thighs, beef tongue, shishito peppers, or (the best one of all) slabs of mochi wrapped in bacon. Diners deposit empty skewers in containers shaped like the pipes from Super Mario games—fans of old-school Nintendo will appreciate the decor here. The rest of the menu channels Yoroshiku with pressed sushi and small plates meant to underpin another round of highballs. Dessert happens up front: Kobayashi’s Japanese soft serve brand, Indigo Cow, has a window by the entrance that serves rich swirls made from milk from Hokkaido cows.

The concept sounds curious: an Italian cafe shares a building with a streetwear shop and sneaker store, collectively known as the Home Team. But trust restaurateur Marcus Lalario to turn disparate ideas into puzzle pieces. The former London Plane space now has a bit more swagger—not to mention focaccia sandwiches and housemade pasta that are meticulous but not too cheffy. People linger over bowls of penne amatriciana at lunch, then transition to spritzes, focaccia with disco sauce, and bright, vegetal antipasti once happy hour hits. Darkalino’s is casual, it’s counter service, it’s enormously handy for pre-games and lunch dates and for reacquainting yourself with the charm of Pioneer Square.

Hooray, you’ve somehow managed to arrive at Ben’s Bread on a day with no line. Joke’s on you: The Phinney Ridge bakery has a diabolical layout that conceals its long queue in a courtyard. Best to settle in for a wait; baker Ben Campbell makes danishes, scones, and english muffins (oh man, the english muffins) worth a trek across the city. He and his wife/partner, Megan, handle the crowds with affable grace. Campbell was an early adopter of Washington grain as a line cook at Lark. He went on to hone those skills making bread for Renee Erickson’s Sea Creatures restaurant group, then struck out with his own popup. As a brick-and-mortar, Ben’s Bread puts out the loaves that made Campbell’s name, plus simple, perfect breakfast sandwiches and lunchtime specials that seemingly sell out in an instant.