Nestled comfortably in the northern part of West Virginia, Bridgeport manages, with surprising charm and no small measure of sauce, to punch well above its weight.

Dining in Bridgeport, West Virginia, is a bit like stumbling into a local secret that everyone in town already knows. It is a reminder that great food doesn’t need flashing lights or big-city zip codes. Sometimes, it just needs a family recipe, a hot oven, and a town full of people who know the difference between a good meal and a great one—and who’ll gladly point you in the right direction, fork in hand.

Cody’s isn’t trying to be cool. It just is. Cody’s is what every gastropub wishes it could be—unpretentious, packed with locals, and run by someone who doesn’t just flip burgers, he engineers them. Chef Cody Thrasher’s Pub Burger, slathered in whipped pimento and brown sugar espresso bacon jam, tastes like it was designed to wreck your diet and ruin every other burger you’ve ever had. And then there’s the Cowboy Killer—a triple-stacked beast with fried pickles and a Korean barbeque sauce that, once you taste it, you’ll chase for the rest of your life.

But Cody doesn’t stop at pub food. No, he kicks it up a notch. One night it’s Korean tacos, the next, Japanese udon. And then there’s Sunday brunch. From creative breakfast bowls to out-of-this-world eggs Benedict to chicken & waffles, you’ll leave full, happy, and already planning your next visit.

For the old-school, red-sauce, Sunday-dinner-with-your-grandmother kind of Italian, head over to Oliverio’s Ristorante. Do you want meatballs the size of your fist? Done. Lasagna that weighs more than a brick and tastes like a third-generation secret? They’ve got it.

Created by Sonny and Shirley Oliverio in 1966 as a humble little joint, three generations later it has become a West Virginia institution. Filet Oliverio, topped with bleu cheese, crab meat, and a portabello cream sauce is a local favorite. Their Chicken Diablo— chicken and Italian sausage, red bell peppers, and onions over a bed of linguine and topped with a spicy cream sauce—will have you screaming “uncle.” And even though it’s easy to fill up on their flaky, garlicky breadsticks, try to save room for the tiramisu—it’s ethereal.

Oliverio’s isn’t just a restaurant. It’s a living, breathing family story that has become a part of every local’s story—and soon it’ll become a part of yours. Honestly, isn’t that the kind of place worth sitting down for?

Then there’s Mia Margherita Coal Fired Pizzeria. This is more than a pizza joint—it’s a tribute to the immigrants who came to West Virginia, chasing work in the mines and bringing their Old World recipes with them. They came for coal but stayed for community, carving out a life underground by day and gathering around tables by night with good wine, loud voices, and food that made the hard days a little softer.

At Mia Margherita Coal Fired Pizzeria, that spirit is alive and well. The ingredients are fresh, the flavors honest, and the coal-fired oven—a roaring beast of tradition—is the soul of the place. It’s the first of its kind in West Virginia, a nod to the very first pizza oven in America, also coal-fired. Using clean-burning anthracite, they dish out pizza that is as authentic as it gets, with wonderfully charred edges and a smoky crispness that never sacrifices the chew of a good crust. And while you could load it up with fancy toppings, you won’t need to. The Margherita is simple, pure, fire-kissed perfection.

The thing about Bridgeport is, it’s not trying to be anywhere else. It’s not imitating New York or Chicago. It’s just being itself, which, in a world full of culinary clones and overpriced concepts, is something worth celebrating. You come here to eat well and feel like you belong, even if just for one meal. No pretense. Just honest food, cooked by people who care.

Plan your trip today at Greater-Bridgeport.com