📍2024 Highlight: After running my first marathon, I hobbled into John Manion’s firelit, womblike churrascaria, legs burning with lactic acid, for the appropriate complex protein-carb cure. I really just wanted a steak, specifically the Bife Maximo, a flame-kissed, 48-ounce T-bone, marbled Pietà-perfect, its juices mingling with chimichurri and garlic oil on a bed of crispy yuca fries. With a Chilean Malbec from the all-South American list, muscle recovery was never so rewarding.

📍2024 Highlight: Haitian food is rare in Chicago, so on my first visit to this folk art–bedecked South Side oasis, I ordered and ate as if a bigger, stronger animal might snatch it all away. There were flaky chicken patties with spicy pickled slaw, jiggly braised oxtails with butter beans, and an enormous pot pie concealing tender pulled goat in creamy mushroom sauce, all attended by various carby, starchy sides, notably the earthy black mushroom rice diri djondjon.

📍2024 Highlight: Early summer sunshine streamed into this classic French bistro, now in its third decade, subtly modernized under the founding chef’s son. My brother arrived from the airport, and a weekend of competitive eating began, with a lava pool of soupe à l’oignon, parried by cool, sweet pea vichyssoise; soft-shelled crab sandwich and frites against escargot boudin blanc, crispy fingerling, and kraut. It was just a typical lunch here, but with the power to melt sibling rivalry.

The self-described “control freak” behind this brand-new ramen-ya spent a decade methodically studying his craft—and regularly selling out periodic pop-ups within seconds. The resulting tentacular housemade noodles and perfectly balanced broths are still the object of intense devotion, but in his long-awaited brick-and-mortar, it’s a little bit easier to score a bowl. With just two soup-based and two dry varieties, obsession and passion are evident in the bowl.

Little Palestine, aka Bridgeview, is the heart of the largest Palestinian community in America, and this former-fast-food-joint-turned-opulent-oasis is its pleasure center. Wood-grilled meats and seafood are the celebrated gems here, but treasures are all over the sprawling menu of mezes, salads, and sandwiches, such as makdous (oil-cured, walnut-stuffed baby eggplants) or arayes (crispy, griddled beef-lamb or Syrian cheese–stuffed pita).

Badou Diakhate’s West African cooking style is improvisational, adjusting bright spikes of sweet, sour, and spicy to guests’ whims. Take, for instance, a whole lime-lashed fish buried in caramelized onions and chile sauce; or chicken and yam chunks stewing in peanut butter mafe; or the chef’s signature tomatoey jambalaya, with okra, shrimp, and a husky whisper of smoked turkey.

Islands on opposite sides of the planet align at this mom (Cuban) and pop (Filipino) daytime satellite to the fine-dining prix-fixe Bayan Ko. Garlic rice perfumes the proceedings, anchoring tocino or longanisa breakfast plates; alongside yolks dripping into pork belly shishito hash; or absorbing drippings from sticky, soy-lacquered chicken inasal. Meanwhile, stacks of Barney-purple ube pancakes and three-scoop banana splits stop the show. Dinner service coming soon.

It isn’t easy to settle on a favorite restaurant. But whenever I get that impossible question, this acclaimed goat specialist is front of mind. Charisma runs in the blood of the Zaragoza family, from whose ancestral hometown of La Barca, Jalisco, comes birria tatemada: slow-“toasted” chivo meat, served with tangy consommé, pressed-to-order corn tortillas, and a chunky red salsa. Ask for a surtido and watch the cleaver-wielding birrierio assemble a sampler of lovingly tended caprid flesh.

Stateside, there’s nothing else in the Western Hemisphere like this dedicated all-beef Japanese-Korean omakase from a sushi pioneer. Sangtae Park and his chefs grill dry-aged American Wagyu, Japanese Kobe, and prime-grade Black Angus morsels before your eyes, supplemented by artfully plated dishes employing off bits and obscure cuts. It’s 12 courses honoring the ancient Korean aesthetic of the bovine, nose-to-tail maxim: 일두백미, or “one head with 100 tastes.”

Outside, it’s a classic Chicago dog stand, and the classics are classically executed therein. But peer into the collage of sausage options, Italian beefs, and pizza puffs plastered above the counter, and a hidden theme emerges: dino-sized, sticky-sweet or spicy glazed chicken wings; a bowl loaded with rice and beefy bulgogi; and a sloppy-good Korean Philly cheesesteak, swollen with soy-imbued beef, mushrooms, peppers, and a runaway lava flow of molten cheese.