People say you can get a really good porterhouse at any number of places around the Valley. But can you? Not according to us. So we swear by the steaks at this Phoenix perennial, which serves the finest corn-fed slabs of beef in town. The Stockyards' claim that it's "Arizona's Original Steakhouse" isn't hooey — the restaurant has been with us since 1947, offering entrees with an emphasis on hearty flavors and honking portions. There's no gourmet trickery here; no mushroom sauces or demiglace to detract from the filets and sirloins, the giant baked potatoes and fresh-steamed vegetables. And if you find yourself wanting to eat a little less food or spend a little less money, don't sleep on the restaurant's 1889 Saloon, a side room with turn-of-the-century appeal and a lighter menu of sliders, wings, and even calf fries. What we're saying is: Take your meat-and-potatoes ass to the Stockyards.
We have one teeny-tiny complaint about Welcome Diner: We don't get to eat there as often as we want. The retro-style diner is only open for breakfast and lunch on the weekends, which means we usually have to wait till dinnertime to belly up to the counter. But it's worth the wait. Fortunately, we can order off Welcome's breakfast menu any time of the day or night. The Whip Toast (French toast with berry compote and whipped cream) is a favorite. But there are no bad choices on Welcome's tight menu of burgers, sandwiches, hot dogs, and chicken and biscuits. If it's hot or rainy, we try to squeeze into Welcome's retro-chic interior, but on crisp fall nights, we love to eat and drink on the patio, where denizens of the Garfield neighborhood gather to enjoy this local treasure.
Since 1964, Elizabeth White's hallowed soul food joint has catered to the downtown masses. Stepping in for a lunch of classic soul food plates like juicy, shattering fried chicken or stewed oxtails melting off the bone feels like existing inside of a textbook photograph, or stumbling onto a movie set. The Sharpied walls, half-open kitchen, and quick, friendly service feel teleported out of an older age of hospitality. You can't miss with the food here. Even the stewed collard greens and unadorned black-eyed peas are completely on point. If you want to end a pilgrimage to Mrs. White's with a bang, finish with the sweet potato pie.
As born-and-raised Southwesterners, we're deeply envious of anyone who got to grow up eating the kind of food they serve at Flavors of Louisiana. Now that we've been initiated in the ways of Cajun and Creole cuisine, we're hooked. What should we talk about first? Maybe the Dunkin Catfish, two perfectly done strips of fried fish on top of crawfish etouffee-covered rice. Or the Cajun Trio of jambalaya, crawfish pie, and gumbo, which delights the senses and stuffs you to the gills. It's all excellent, and all served with a smile by Flavors of Louisiana's charming staff (that Southern hospitality thing is no joke). Resist the temptation to finish your entree; take it home. That way, you can end your feast with peach cobbler or beignets. Or both.
Ever since the pandemic made it much more of an ordeal to travel, we've found ourselves frequently thinking about journeys past. When we crave the cheerful din of an English tavern, we head to George & Dragon in central Phoenix. You don't need to eat anything here to have a satisfying time; a pint of Smithwick's, some football (meaning soccer) on the TV, and a friendly chat with the chap on the next barstool is a fine way to while away an afternoon or evening. But we recommend sampling the menu: The chicken and vegetable curries are celebrated for a reason, and traditional British fare like shepherd's pie and bangers and mash pair well with the ciders and beers on tap. Until we can hop the pond again, George & Dragon gives us that British pub experience, right in the heart of Phoenix.
Sure, you got your McCaffrey's, your Dubliners, your suburban corner pubs. But in downtown Cave Creek's crowded food-and-drink scene, look for the giant Guinness banner and head toward Mountain View Pub. It has the usual Irish bar traits: imported beers, appetizers, an assortment of antique furniture, an internet jukebox. But there's also a stage framed by exposed cobblestone, some natural sunlight, and a massive back patio with absolutely breathtaking views of a river valley and the north Valley mountains. To drink, order a margarita, a house favorite that's served in a Guinness pint glass. To eat? Stay on the ol' Emerald Isle; we like the Irish breakfast platter, Irish pub nachos, and the Reuben, which is made with corned beef cooked daily in Guinness.
Okay, maybe German isn't the trendiest cuisine at the moment, but there's no denying its effectiveness as comfort food. The menu at Haus Murphy's in Historic Downtown Glendale is stocked with hearty, stick-to-your-ribs fare. We like to start with the giant Bavarian soft pretzel, which comes with butter, mustard, and (for an extra fee) cheese sauce. The schnitzels are the best in town; if you order the sampler plate, you'll get to try the chicken, paprika, and steak schnitzels, all of which are perfectly fried without being too heavy. Our final bit of advice? Come to Haus Murphy's on a mostly empty stomach — not just to enjoy the large portions, but also so you can sample the restaurant's impressive beer selection (and maybe a Black Forest torte).
Inside this lofty temple of breezy, white-painted woods, exposed rafters, and brassy accents, an elegant modern French restaurant hums. It's not elegant just because of the postcard bar with its smooth hewn-rock top and plant leaves jutting from atop the brass back bar. Francine unites coastal French cooking with strong influences from Spain and southern Italy, the dishes ranging from old to new. Brian Archibald cooks them with a true hand. Some of his highlights are a citrus-touched crab ravioli and a whole branzino baked in a salt crust. Archibald prepares textbook panisse, the classic French chickpea cake, but also mixes it up with dishes such as wood-roasted octopus with chorizo. In 2021, lots of French dining can feel sleepy, but Francine delivers a pleasant, galvanizing shock.
Chef Gio Osso's restaurant serves funky amari flights. Gnocchi rolled with mesquite flour. Mains like duck breast in black garlic soubise. His skill and point of view in the Italian food arena would be unique for anywhere, and they certainly bring something to greater Phoenix's somewhat staid Italian food scene. Diners enjoy his fare at an intimate courtyard flanking a boutique inn, white tablecloths under string lights. The menu changes all the time. At any given moment, there are usually just a few pastas. He'll never cook, say, a classic like amatriciana. As with his take on grilled octopus, one highlighting fennel, chickpeas, and Calabrese chile butter, there's always some nice modern wrinkle.
Who eats in this Cuban cafeteria in far west Phoenix? Cab drivers. Quiet regulars. People who know the proprietor and watch TV while they wolf down pork steak and flan. The food awaits in warming tins. It is ladled in its fully saucy glory onto your plate, juices running to the rim. The ropa vieja is excellent, the tender braided strings of long-stewed beef sopping with peppery juices. Oxtails are wildly decadent and so slide-apart that they cave under your fork with the most minimal pressure. Even the black beans are fire. This is the kind of Cuban cafeteria you'd expect in New York or Miami, so we're thrilled Fe La Cubana calls Arizona home.