Best restaurants in Edinburgh
Published 11 June 2026

Next door to elder sibling the Little Chartroom, this all-day venue is the McCarrons' first foray into casual eating. The compact café, wine bar and bottle shop is open all day, offering a flexible menu that deals in everything from full breakfasts (with very good coffee) to brunchy kedgeree fritters with curry mayo and cured egg yolk or BBQ flatbread with ox tongue and romesco – though with the likes of crispy squid bun with mushroom XO and baby gem also on offer, it’s possible to assemble a three-course dinner from the various options. The bottle shop’s range is included in the wine list (add corkage to the shelf price), or you can sip local beers and cocktails.

High stools curve around the chef’s counter at this intimate neighbourhood restaurant on a quiet Southside street, where Jack Montgomery and his small team create a seven-course tasting menu for just eight diners. The repertoire is seasonal and the menu can change from day to day; either way, the culinary artistry and acrobatics are flawless right from the start.

Openers might bring crisp pastry cups filled with a cloud of creamy burrata foam and grilled quince dusted with fennel pollen on a bed of buckwheat, followed by a dense, fleshy, diced Orkney scallop, its sweetness offset by the umami flavour and earthy funk of juiced olives, fig-leaf oil and fig paste. After that, flashes of Willy Wonka-style experimentation turn the evening into a culinary masterclass: pumpkin pot-roasted with seaweed on walnuts to give it a woodiness; a kombucha ‘scoby’ culture submerged in maple syrup to create a glaze; shelled Shetland mussels, huge and fleshy, on a citron-butter paste made from lemons packed in salt for a year with shio koji (a menthol-fresh rice fermentation).

Japanese influences are also evident in other dishes. Slow-cooked egg is a double act: one is cooked for 63 minutes until the yolk has jellified; the other involves trout roe from Paris, swimming in an onion broth cooked for four days with togarashi and pickled enoki mushrooms, plus a slice of Ibérico ham adding salty richness and a hefty shot of Pedro Ximénez on the side.

The wine list focuses on small-scale, organic and biodynamic vineyards, and the drinks pairing is part of the experience. Roe deer brushed with homemade black garlic, for example, is matched with a single varietal Counoise from the Southern Rhône, its delicate damson-tinged lightness a perfect match for venison. To conclude, a wood-roasted cherry and black-sesame Bakewell comes with a final nod to Japan – a crème fraîche ‘namelaka’, a silky white chocolate ganache cut with cultured cream to add acidity. Innovative stuff.

In Scots dialect, ‘barry' means fine or good; it's also the first name of chef-owner Barry Bryson, who runs this well-liked addition to Edinburgh's restaurant scene. Barry Fish is his first solo venture, and with olive-green paintwork and fresh, contemporary interiors, it's a bright, modern space. The menu showcases Scottish seafood, with a couple of additions for vegetarians and meat-eaters. Proceedings open with a clutch of ‘big snacks’ (aka sharing plates) ranging from fish pastrami with aïoli and capers to smoked sea bass rillettes with soused Orkney herring. To follow, shelled half lobsters, whole lemon sole véronique and even a roast chicken pie, with a couple of desserts and cheese rounding things off. Alternatively, you can drop by without booking for the ‘first wave’ (early-evening set menu) or rock up for some oysters and Champagne (Tue-Sat, 4.15pm-6pm). Run by an ‘amazingly friendly team’, the restaurant’s relaxed vibe extends to locals, visitors and their four-legged companions. To drink, there are signature cocktails and a small but thoughtfully curated selection of wines.

Among the network of lanes in Edinburgh's New Town, north of Princes Street, this ‘wonderful oasis of calm’ looks like a piece of heritage Parisian ‘restauration’ airlifted from Montmartre. Bentwood chairs on the robust side of rickety, a black-and-white tiled floor, properly clothed tables, dark wood walls and mirrors all form the backdrop to the kind of classic French bistro cooking that visitors love to stumble upon.

Start the ball rolling with, say, ham 'hough' terrine or St Bride's smoked duck breast with a salad of orange, pickled fennel and raddichio. Main course veer towards the sturdy end of things: roast lamb rump is accompanied by ratatouille, buttery mash and tapenade, while a serving of East Coast cod comes with a rich shellfish bisque, heritage potatoes, samphire and aïoli. It's all gloriously satiating, right up to desserts such as raspberry frangipane tart with crème normande or Perthshire cherry clafoutis with woodruff ice cream.

The fixed-price 'café classics' menu is a bargain for lunch or dinner, with mains such as Borders venison cottage pie or smoked haddock fillet with wilted spinach and green sauce. Glasses in two sizes lead off a serviceable French-based wine list. ‘We arrive to smiles and leave with a warm glow,’ mused one regular.

‘Everything you want for a night out – lovely place, great food and friendly, knowledgeable service,’ noted one visitor eager to sample Edinburgh’s touristy charms at this historic restaurant owned by the city’s redoubtable Contini family – there’s even a whisky bar next door for those who fancy a dram or two.

An old cannonball lodged in the outer wall of the premises gives the place its name and you can even sample local haggis ‘cannonballs’ (with pickled turnips and whisky cream) for that extra ‘och aye’. But that’s where the frivolous clichés end. This venue is serious about Scottish produce and knows how to handle it with aplomb, serving battered Peterhead haddock, East Coast lobsters with garlic butter and braised beef featherblade accompanied by confit garlic crumb, red cabbage and parsnip purée.

Many vegetables come from the Contini Kitchen Garden (Jerusalem artichokes with roast cod, for example), and cheeses are true Scottish patriots such as Lanark Blue and Elrick Log. To conclude, desserts offer comfort in the shape of a chocolate cannonball with pumpkin and crème fraîche or spiced crème brûlée with Tarocco blood orange. ‘The style of food is terrific,’ says one fan, and the short, sharp wine list kicks off with organic house selections from Spain.

There’s a sense of understated chic about Tomás Gormley’s neighbourhood restaurant, a companion to Skua in Stockbridge. Moodily done out in black, punctuated by orbs of golden light, a miscellany of abstract canvases, a few unclothed tables and a cool soundtrack, it’s ‘just a wee gem’. What Cardinal lacks in size it makes up for with really engaged service and Gormley’s understated, purposeful cooking, which fully exploits contrasting flavours and textures while obsessively playing off the seasons.

To begin, a slug of roasted onion broth infused with Douglas fir and ‘very early’ wild garlic oil captured the theme, as did a single, stunning Carlingford oyster finished with beef tallow and tiny cubes of gherkin (for a light acidic tang). A composition of tender nuggets of smoked Belhaven lobster and pink fir potato was equally memorable, lushly blanketed under a creamy lobster bisque that offered just a hint of chilli heat.

That hint of heat came through again in the jammy blueberry and black peppercorn sauce served with a glorious Hopeton venison tataki, while there was more welcome acidity – from slivers of red onion – in a rich cheese dipping sauce accompanying a mini-loaf of fluffy challah-style milk bread. On point, too, was the homemade brown sauce served with a sausage roll that topped off our flavourful savoury finale of mangalitza pork ribeye with sauerkraut, Pommery mustard and fennel.

This is very good cooking – at £95 for the short tasting menu or £120 for the full works, it ought to be. But with wine pairings more or less de rigueur (there is a very limited by-the-glass choice), the ensuing bill catapults Cardinal into the ‘destination restaurant’ bracket, which is slightly at odds with its charming low-key vibe and neighbourhood setting. That said, it feels like the sort of place you would want to visit regularly if you lived in the area, especially as the three-course set lunch (Wednesday and Thursday only) has a more manageable price tag. 

Ambling along a suburban Edinburgh street, it would be easy to pass the local post office and entirely miss the understated former shop unit that is Condita. Despite operating in this location since 2018, it retains the feel of a pop–up. Seasonally changing artworks, carefully curated retro furnishings, idiosyncratic features and a soundtrack reflecting the owner’s personal tastes are overlaid on the building’s functional neutrality.

With just six tables, this is an intimate encounter with food that focuses on seasonality and local production – much of it from Condita's walled garden in the Borders. A pictogram bookmark depicting elements from each dish is the only clue to the fixed-price, multi-course surprise menu.

An opening succession of ‘snacks’ might include their signature wine-marinated mussel served on an edible potato starch and squid-ink 'shell' or a delicate tartlet of sea trout adorned with fennel tops, brown shrimps and trout roe. A relatively predictable sequence of vegetable, fish and meat dishes follows, before a cheese course and two desserts. In terms of flavour, technique and sheer prettiness on the plate, one item stood out for us: seared/caramelised kohlrabi with a spiced soy glaze, studded with bergamot, pickled kohlrabi, micro leaves and flowers. Elsewhere, succulent loin of hogget accompanied by courgettes, roasted girolles, goat's curd accents and an anchoïade dressing is an equally accomplished creation.

There's a willingness to go beyond Scottish seasonality by incorporating striking, but less common, ingredients (often with an Asian twist), while a focus on foraging is evident in a bold dessert combining pineapple weed (aerated mousse and gel), chunks of sponge, meringue shards, punchy nasturtium ‘jam’ and a salty crumble involving umeboshi plums. Note that vegetarian and pescatarian options are available on booking but no changes can be made to the menu at time of eating.

The wine list values depth rather than breadth, with a deep dive into a small number of individual producers offering some real gems; a handful are available by the glass if you don’t opt for the matched flight. Engaging staff and chatty chefs in the front-of-house prep kitchen help to pace the three-hour experience.

Quite the ace to have up your sleeve when you’re looking for somewhere casual, this dramatic double-height space, a former banking hall, houses a true urban eatery, an all-day Italian caffè. While busy and buzzy, the room feels classy: soaring pillars, ornate ceiling, grey walls, striking bright-pink dangling lampshades, massive central chandelier, and a lively baroque fresco covering part of one wall.

It ‘feels special’ and feeds the mainly Edinburgh crowd from breakfast to dinner, whether snacking, just having a drink, enjoying one dish or more. Any time and any dish will do, whether it’s a plate of trofiette pasta with sausage, cremini mushrooms, dried porcini, fresh cream, rocket and Parmesan, or rump of Highland lamb with cannellini purée, pan-fried puntarella and salsa verde.

If you’re into the sweet side of things, Contini’s tiramisu is the ultimate soothing treat, although other equally indulgent temptations beckon – from panettone al forno to gelati and sorbetti. Liquid refreshment covers all bases too, with the good-value all-Italian wine list opening at £25.

The Dishoom group has the knack of picking atmospheric locations for its various restaurants, and this Edinburgh outpost is no exception – although one local thought it felt ‘a bit like a pub’. Occupying three floors of a handsome Art Deco building overlooking St Andrew Square, it is dedicated to hirsute Scottish botanist and all-round man of the people Sir Patrick Geddes, who helped improve living conditions in Edinburgh's Old Town during Victorian times and had strong links with Bombay. Appropriate, since Dishoom aims to recreate the essence and ambience of that city's classless Irani cafés, with a lively all-day menu of Anglo-Indian tiffin and tucker.

Roll up early for buttery maska buns with hot chai or a chicken kathi roll, lunch on a couple small plates (perhaps a hot potato vada pau or chickpeas, halwa and pickles in a puffy puri); otherwise, get sociable by sharing a feast of different dishes. Grills such as Dishoom’s invigoratingly spiced lamb chops share the billing with slow-cooked biryanis, various ‘Ruby Murrays’ and the house special – salli boti (braised lamb in rich gravy served with crunchy ‘crisp chips’ and buttered roomali roti).

To finish, a creamy, cooling kulfi fits the bill admirably. Drinkers are also handsomely served with a bewildering array of ‘sharbats’, coolers, esoteric beers, wines and cocktails on offer: don’t miss the special Horniman’s Old Fashioned, named after Benjamin Horniman - a friend of Patrick Geddes and editor of The Bombay Chronicle.

‘From “oyster happy hour” to beautifully roasted sharing platters, this place has so many nuances to keep locals coming back, and to drag Edinburgh’s food fanatics away from Stockbridge and Leith,’ noted a fan of this ‘relentlessly good’ neighbourhood bistro in Bruntsfield. Fans of tinned fish and other booze-friendly snacks make a beeline for the broody little wine bar in the basement, although the main action takes place in the bright, unfussy dining room at street level. Despite the postcode, chef-patron Stuart Smith’s cooking is anything but parochial, and he is currently delivering some of the best seafood in the city.

Small plates form the bulk of the menu, backed up by ‘market fish’ specials (perhaps ‘perfectly cooked’ John Dory on the bone accompanied by pak choi, carrots, fries and aïoli). Salt cod mousse with herb oil and grilled sourdough is a fixture, but also look for wonderfully sweet Gairloch langoustines with emerald-hued wild garlic mayo or pickled mussels with carrot, buckwheat and fermented peach hot sauce. Away from the sea, you might find Denhead Farm asparagus with white beans, walnut and guanciale or slow-cooked lamb shoulder accompanied by friggitelli peppers, roasted onion and goat’s curd.

For afters, readers have singled out a ‘suitably tart’ lemon posset and a well-judged chocolate mousse with miso caramel and hazelnuts. The comprehensive but accessible wine list has a distinctly French accent and at least a dozen options by the glass, while a separate, more indulgent 'cellar list' is available for those seeking to mark an occasion – or to create one.

The beefy Hawksmoor steakhouse group picked a peach of a site when they were looking for an Edinburgh outpost – namely, the old National Bank of Scotland, once the tallest building overlooking St Andrew Square. Its current incarnation pays due reference to the past with limestone surfaces, a lofty coffered ceiling, imperious columns, parquet floors, etched windows and reclaimed materials, although nothing can detract from the venue's gastronomic USP.

Visitors come here in their droves for joyously flavoursome cuts of dry-aged native beef sourced from both sides of the border, priced per 100g, chargrilled to order, and served with the now-familiar Hawksmoor sauces and sides – although the bone-marrow skirlie is unique to this branch. Regional ingredients crop up regularly on the menu, from Eyemouth crab on toast or grilled native lobsters with garlic butter to occasional supplies of heather-nourished Hebridean lamb. The sourdough bread is from Edinburgh, and so is the butter, while the famed Ambassador chocolate bar and a wicked sticky toffee sundae top the list of indulgent desserts.

A daytime ‘express’ menu pulls in punters on tighter budgets, while on Sundays a whole rump of 35-day, dry-aged beef is slow-cooked over charcoal then finished in the oven – ‘the quality of the meat is unrivalled,’ notes one fan. Otherwise, the drinks list is everything you would expect from Hawksmoor: craft beers and nifty cocktails plus big-ticket red wines bold enough to match all that fleshy sanguineous protein.

In the spirit of its namesake, Heron perches intently on the Water of Leith, peering out towards the cranes and dockyards of Edinburgh’s old port. On brighter days, light floods into the airy, high-ceilinged dining room through vast, wraparound windows. Originally the post-lockdown creation of Tomás Gormley and Sam Yorke, the kitchen now sits under the sole authority of the latter, with Gormley installed as chef at Stockbridge’s Skua. Regardless, Heron continues to impress.

Canapés are flawless: a delicately fluted nori cup is filled with fruity, tender langoustine, tart plum and pressed cucumber, while a wafer-thin croustade combines rich, herbal gribiche with musky flakes of Arbroath smokie. Moving deeper into the menu, a veal sweetbread coated with a hugely savoury sourdough glaze sits on creamy celeriac purée with sugary bursts of candied walnut, the dish perfectly balancing sweetness and intense, malty umami. Elsewhere, a solitary Hasselback Jersey Royal is presented in a pool of deliciously rich oyster crème fraîche, with cod roe providing some contrasting salinity.

This balancing act continues into the final course, where a chocolate-dipped boule conceals a light, milky mousse and luscious, velvety salted caramel, alongside a subtly spiced chai ice cream. Like everything else on offer here, it is immaculately and precisely presented. Service breaks with the stifling formality of traditional fine dining, pleasingly opting for a warm, cheerful and knowledgeable approach – especially when selecting drinks to match the varied and complex menu.

Slotted into a shopping mall in Edinburgh’s St James Quarter, this ‘absolutely terrific’ younger sibling of Ka Pao in Glasgow is notable for its ‘amazing atmosphere, involved chefs and first-rate, well-drilled staff’. Located up a flight of stairs and behind a plate glass frontage, the dining space is filled with rows of tables, brown leather banquettes (fashioned from old bus seats) and comfy booths, while illumination comes from big white spherical lamps.

Fans of zippy South-east Asian finger food are in for a treat here: don’t miss the instantly addictive chicken wings slathered in ‘fish sauce caramel’ (so good you’ll want to order them twice). Innovative ideas abound, from corn ribs with salted coconut, shrimp and lime to stir-fried ox tongue, pak choi, oyster sauce and green peppercorns, while Scottish produce gets a good outing (venison carpaccio with chilli jam; grilled Shetland mussels with orange and calamansi nam jim, for example). Curries also receive the full Ka Pao treatment, as in beef short rib with aubergine and banana chilli or skate wing with makrut lime and cashews.

Sides and veggie dishes such as stir-fried choi sum with burnt tomato sambal are equally convincing and emphatically spiced, while desserts could bring salted chocolate mousse with sriracha honeycomb or sticky tamarind and ginger sponge with coconut and lime mascarpone. Asian-themed cocktails, sodas and beer suit the food, and the short wine list is tilted towards aromatic spice-tolerant bottles.

From lines out the door at The Palmerston to crowds overwhelming her Stockbridge bakery, Darcie Maher can’t help but attract queues for her pastrywork. Do the goods deliver? Absolutely. The sunny corner spot is an apothecary-like arrangement of glistening cardamom buns, puffed-up pain au chocolat, vanilla slices and sugared cinnamon scrolls stuffed with cloud-like vanilla cream, while a hatch onto the working bakery offers a glimpse of masters at work. To get the best selection, it’s wise to turn up before 9.30am – or earlier if you can.

Located right on Bruntsfield Links, Leftfield is ‘the type of restaurant that makes the neighbourhood and the city a better place, both from a community and cultural point of view,’ commented one reporter after a visit to Phil White and Rachel Chisholm’s passion project. Pin-sharp fish cookery and fine hospitality go hand in hand here, while the kitchen works to a perfectly formed, regularly changing menu built around excellent Scottish produce. Top of the bill is an extravagant seafood platter that’s never off the menu; otherwise, dishes depend on the market – perhaps octopus with romesco, courgette and fennel or sea trout with peas, broad beans and chorizo. If you want to take a different tack, the line-up also promises the likes of venison haunch with Puy lentils or a roast cauliflower tart involving spinach, feta and pumpkin purée. To conclude, there could be a Basque cheesecake with fruit compôte. The sourdough and olive oil come in for praise, too, while drinks include cocktails, local Port of Leith oloroso sherry and an interesting clutch of fairly priced wines.

Service is taken as seriously as the coffee at this pint-sized, basement-level café, and there's a relaxed buzz that makes you want to hang around. If you're not here for a caffeine hit – maybe a £10 coffee flight or a single-origin pour from one of the world's best roasteries – you might like to indulge in soup and a sandwich for under £10, or the decidedly less virtuous toasted chocolate banana bread with tahini, honey and mascarpone. Tea drinkers should note the selection of 'brewed to recipe' infusions from London's cult Postcard Teas.

You can't miss the Barbie-pink neon sign beckoning you into this Asian-inspired street-food joint. The frontage may be tongue-in-cheek Tokyo but step inside and the interiors flip from garish to hip, pared-back urban chic – the lighting tinged bordello-blush, the walls bare stone and polished concrete. A young metropolitan crowd hogs the banquettes, canteen-style tables and low counter seating at the bar.

The kitchen is fronted by Duncan Adamson, who decamped from rustic farm-to-table hot spot Gardener's Cottage and is now equally at home with Asian fusion. Plates are made for sharing, and fast, friendly service ensures that the table is soon overflowing with dishes. Unable to decide between the tempura cauliflower bao bun with spicy Korean sauce, pickled beansprouts, baby gem and umami mayonnaise or the sticky, five-spice beef brisket bao with kimchi and crispy onions, we order both. Crispy pork belly, soft and succulent, arrives topped with a crunchy chilli and peanut sauce, while a roasted and grilled aubergine with pungent miso, ginger and sesame is simply moreish.

Specials are irresistible too: braised hispi cabbage with fermented black garlic and fragrant furikake seasoning has a complex earthiness, while tender flakes of grilled monkfish with edamame and wakame salad are candyfloss-light and beautifully balanced. If you still have room, there's just one dessert – perhaps a delicate miso and vanilla crème caramel with yuzu caramel and sprinkling of toasted coconut. The drinks list includes a smattering of natural wines, sakes and homemade fruity sodas, as well as carefully curated cocktails.

The line between experience and ordeal is a boundary routinely tested by the modern tasting menu. When the format soars, as it does here, it can be like a symphony. A recent addition to chef-patron Stuart Ralston’s Edinburgh mini-empire, Lyla occupies the townhouse site of the late Paul Kitching’s 21212. A profound sense of occasion lives on, and the standard of service is unimpeachable throughout as the team delivers Ralston's signature 10-course experience. 

Guests are swept upstairs to a beautifully appointed drawing room for Champagne and canapés, which may include an immaculately presented lobster croustade – a masterful balance of crisp, buttery pastry, sweet crustacean flesh and ruby cod’s roe. Expectations set, an enthusiastic introduction follows via the towering, glass-fronted ageing fridges. Downstairs, a sumptuous dining room awaits, blending into an entirely open kitchen at the rear. Bright linens against contrasting, dark drapes and precise, warm lighting give a calm, welcoming intimacy, with a stage-like view of the serene culinary theatrics occurring nearby.

To begin, a single, glorious langoustine is a fat thumb of perfectly sweet flesh, bound in golden threads of kataifi pastry, beautifully balanced by a tart apple ketchup and a salty hit of dried scallop roe. After that, a technically meticulous squid dish arrives masquerading as noodle soup – the flesh dried and pressed before being cut to fine ribbons and drenched in a dark, decadent alium broth. Desserts are equally impressive, and a closing salvo marries a thin, slightly saline, cherry-laced chocolate sponge with a sublimely fresh, bright meadowsweet ice cream. Again, the balance is impeccable, the result utterly sublime.

The star turn, however, is the duck, which we meet briefly before the now-bronzed creature is snatched away for carving. What returns is a flawless crescendo of a dish. The meat is pink and staggeringly succulent, the fat perfectly rendered, and the salty-sweet shard of cross-hatched skin tangy with plum from relentless basting, while a sunflower XO sauce delivers an elegant umami hit. It is scintillating, laborious and exacting to an almost absurd level, and a masterclass in anticipation.

Needless to say, the option of pricey matched wines is a given, though the wine list is well thought out and offers some degree of affordability. While some restaurants feel like a step on a journey to something more, this feels like Ralston’s destination. In Lyla, he has arrived at somewhere spectacular.

Frederic ('Fred') Berkmiller’s classic French bistro has spread a blanket of joy across Edinburgh since it opened in 2009. It’s fair to say that the place buzzes and the atmosphere is 'unbeatable'. And it's no wonder that fans are quickly seduced by the unmistakable Gallic vibe: 'You could easily be sat in a wee French restaurant in Paris,' noted one reporter who felt fully transported to another world.

The conviviality extends to the assured combination of French cooking with Scottish raw materials, including hand-dived Orkney scallops and venison as well as home-grown vegetables and herbs from Berkmiller’s four-acre plot at Monkton Gardens. The menu itself is built around established standards, which brings people back because they know the quality won’t waver from one visit to the next. 'I had the côte de boeuf again – one of my favourite dishes anywhere. Beautifully served medium-rare with dauphinoise, salad, roasted onion, garlic and peppercorn sauce.' Fish soup with rouille, steak tartare, escargots in garlic butter and beef bourguignon are all present and correct, too.

For dessert there could be a not-to-be-missed crème brûlée as well as griottines in kirsch and îles flottantes. Expect ‘great service from knowledgeable staff', a wine bar in the basement for post-prandial relaxation, and a thoroughly commendable list of French wines with an excellent choice by the glass.

What began as a hip little ramen spot on a side street off Leith Walk is now one of the most innovative Asian eateries in Edinburgh. Sharif Gergis and Elizabeth Elliott, (the couple behind Gulp Ramen) garnered a cult following, but the level of broth-watching (simmered for over 60 hours) eventually took its toll. The Mirin rebrand has seen the focus shift to experimental small plates – the owners recommend two or three per person. But that’s not easy when the first three dumpling dishes all sound so enticing, especially an Asian take on Cullen skink: fat, chewy parcels of smoky fish in a puddle of chilli-infused coconut cream. Another inspired mash-up involves hand-ripped noodles, thick, al dente and coated in a spicy wild boar and Stornaway black pudding ragù (an Asian bolognese, if you like), while dessert might bring a miso-infused tiramisu. There’s a good list of wines by the glass (including skin-contact orange varietals). Mirin's interior is low-key, with bare bulbs, wooden benches and stools at the counter. It's hard to get a table, so you must book ahead – also bear in mind your sitting time, as they run a tight turnover.

The Radford family’s follow-up to their Edinburgh flagship Timberyard shares its traits as a singularly stylish and occasionally esoteric place to eat. Perched at the top of Montrose Terrace, an all-white paint job had erased signs of its past life as a pansies-in-the-window pub and sets the tone for minimalist interiors, neutral tones and natural textures.

There are two ways to enjoy Montrose. On the ground floor, a warmly lit wine bar attracts an all-day crowd who come for the roster of light plates (sardines on toast, say) and the magnificent drinks list – a well of creativity, curated by Anna Sebelova and shared with Timberyard. Vermouths, liqueurs and bitters are all made in-house, while softs such as hibiscus and wormwood kombucha or the unusual savoury notes of Koseret tea keep things interesting for the abstainers.

Upstairs, chef Moray Lamb’s cooking gets a little more serious with a set menu of four courses (plus canapés and petits fours) for around £80. The atmosphere is more serious too, with space for just 15 diners, tables dressed in unbleached linens and light coming mostly from the dim glow of pillar candles – although a two-hour time allocation on tables puts Montrose at odds with its tasting menu compatriots elsewhere in the city.

Our winter visit began with a duo of superlative snacks (a delicate smoked eel doughnut, and a bite of choux au craquelin filled with Gubbeen cheese), while an opener of Shetland squid in a tangle of noodle-like strips felt more technically interesting than lovably delicious. A beautifully wobbly veal sweetbread blanketed in a silky Jerusalem artichoke sauce suffered from a hint of over-seasoning, but nothing could trump the triumphant savoury finale – pink-fleshed sika deer with sophisticated accompaniments including celeriac, pine and juniper.

The wine list is also a triumph – an oenophile’s tour of English and European viticulture, with the emphasis on organic and natural production. Choices by the glass are many and varied, but also look for bottles highlighted in ‘orange’. Overall, we found the service to be informed and amiable, if a little softly spoken at times. Our advice: save the moody refinement of the restaurant for an intimate occasion and revel in the buzzy fun of the wine bar as frequently as possible.

*Senior sous-chef Jon Munro has been promoted to head chef, replacing Mathew Sherry.*

In a city with a vibrant farm-to-fork and supper club scene, Number One oozes olde-worlde opulence. Descending from the entrance on Princes Street, the restaurant (all red lacquered walls, well-spaced tables and elegant banquettes) is sumptuous without feeling stuffy. Nowadays, being crammed around rustic communal tables is often the tasting-menu norm; seated binocular-scanning distance from other diners feels like a novelty. Choose between a three- and seven-course taster, which naturally showcases Scotland's larder, with producers name-checked on the back – the salmon and langoustines, for example, are from fourth-generation fishmongers George Campbell & Sons, while honey is harvested from an apiary on the hotel's roof.

This is faultless fine dining from head chef Matthew Sherry, with more than a dash of old-school, grown-up glamour for good measure, opening with exquisite amuse-bouches ranging from tiny potato scones layered with egg, salmon and salty caviar to subtly seasoned beef tartare in a crisp, crumbly pastry case. Warm, just-baked sourdough comes with a shiny globe of Orkney butter, while a sliver of Shetland salmon with minuscule cucumber balls, soy, sesame, peanut and coriander is sweetly aromatic. Tortellini of veal sweetbread swims in earthy foam on a bed of caramelised Roscoff onion and a green peppercorn sauce, while venison (roe deer from the local Hopetoun Estate) with cauliflower, mustard and kale is a hearty, traditional plateful.

Dishes reveal a feather-light touch and intricate detailing, exemplified by a dessert of 'Tomlinson's rhubarb' – a delicate mousse in a sweet glazed case with a sharp compôte and candied almonds. The wine list is a real page-turner that gallops around the globe, taking diners on a whistle-stop tour of the Lebanon and Bulgaria with longer stopovers in French regions such as Burgundy and the Loire; there are plenty of by-the-glass selections too.

They outgrew their cupboard-sized unit in Marchmont almost as soon as they opened – now you'll find Pomelo tucked half-a-mile along the road in Sciennes, replacing Jess Dennison Elliott's eponymous southside café. The new site is only marginally bigger, but the dark-walled dining room squeezes in a few more covers in a less communal format than before, plus a couple of tables out on the pavement. It's a cosy, slightly rustic space, flooded with the enticing aromas of whatever's cooking in the back.

With the relocation, chef-owner Jun Au (ex-Castle Terrace and the Grain Store) has broadened Pomelo's offer, moving beyond the biang-biang noodles that originally flagged him on the city's culinary radar. While you'll still hear a happy 'slap slap slap' as the next batch is stretched out in the kitchen, there’s much more to delight the senses. Walk-in lunches (Wed-Sat) offer a snapshot of the greatest hits from their early days: the crispy fried chicken sandwich gains a sweet, punchy heat from its gochujang coating, while those stretchy, slightly chewy belt-sized noodles are still just as delicious, served with tender, heavily spiced pork, and soused in an intense garlic and chilli sauce. Also check out Pomelo's Sunday brunch offer.

In the evening, the kitchen ramps up its ambitions. Modelled as a Chinese family dinner, it features a range of small plates bringing together Asian and Western culinary techniques, ingredients and flavours. On a recent visit, a pleasingly intense trio of vegetable banchan was followed by Au’s fish-fragrant take on a Sicilian caponata. After that, there might be roast duck with kumquats and cauliflower or a beautifully cooked fillet of coley crowned with a hugely aromatic Cantonese curry, closer to a heavily spiced vegetable ragù than a light sauce. Like much of the menu, the flavours are huge, bold and satisfying, regardless of whether the dish is an authentic homage, or something a little more out of the ordinary. To drink, pick from the short, all-natural wine list or try one of the cocktails listed on the blackboard.

Sitting pretty in Edinburgh’s trendy Stockbridge district, this bijou, personally run restaurant plies its trade in a cosy but smart basement furnished in pleasantly informal, metropolitan style, complete with cushions, plants and prints.

Dinner is a tasting menu of five or seven courses, where classic ideas are given savvy modern interpretations: roast pigeon breast might arrive in company with quinoa, beetroot, chicory and Granny Smith apple; salmon gets the elevated ballotine treatment; and there’s a complex assiette of lamb involving roast cannon, a boudin of sweetbreads, braised leg and sautéed lamb’s liver with all manner of accompaniments. After that, a pre-dessert heralds the likes of chocolate and raspberry mousse or rhubarb with apricot purée, vanilla-poached apricots, ginger bread and yoghurt sorbet.

At lunchtime, you can pick from a smaller carte of simpler dishes such as smoked ham hock with white bean cassoulet or roast chicken breast with fondant potato and Vichy carrots. The wine list is a hand-picked selection of (mostly) organic bottles from vineyards and producers across the globe.

A well-respected aristocrat on Leith’s regenerated waterfront since 2001, Martin Wishart’s flagship has weathered the storms of fortune and continues to please locals and visitors alike. It helps that the ‘lovely’ dining room is a gently civilised, reassuring space with light wood panels, black leather chairs, discreet lighting and immaculately laid tables.

Wishart has refined his vision of modern French cuisine over the years, although his loyalty to Scottish seasonal produce remains as strong as ever. Dornoch lamb is roasted and served with goat’s cheese gnocchi and baby gem, while mallard from the Borders could arrive with creamed cabbage, braised salsify, pomme florentine and Armagnac jus. Seafood from Scottish waters is a perennial winner: a ‘genuinely inspired’ dish of Gigha halibut paired with kohlrabi rémoulade, compressed cucumber and a luxe caviar sauce was the highlight for one diner, but the haul could also include sea bream (rendered as a ceviche), John Dory or cod (steamed and served with pomme parisienne, baby leeks and hollandaise sauce). This is well-rounded, assured contemporary cooking without pyrotechnics or showboating.

The kitchen also shows its class when it comes to dessert – a Valrhona chocolate fondant needs nothing more than a black cherry sorbet and some crème fraîche, while a composition of honey mousse with lavender and apricot curd strikes a more modern note. If there is a bugbear, it has to do with the service which readers report lacks its usual panache and courtesy. Thankfully, all is well in the drinks department: a tip-top wine list takes oenophiles on a world tour, pitching rare treats from lesser-known countries alongside French regional classics; half bottles are in good supply, as are superior selections by the glass.

Tomás Gormley (one half of the duo behind Heron in Leith) is now at the helm of Skua – a bijou basement eatery down steep stone steps on St Stephen Street in Stockbridge. Flickering candlelit interiors, black walls, marble tables, banquette seating and a hip, ambient soundtrack give the place a late-night drinking den vibe, while the pared-back menu is a carefully curated selection of small plates inspired by the seasons.

'Shallot' with fermented spruce, fig, cobnut and béarnaise has an exciting, plate-scraping sharpness, the caramelised onion balanced with the mustard-laced sauce and sweet chunks of fresh fruit. Pretty-as-a-picture Belhaven lobster, meanwhile, arrives as a butter-smeared mound of smoked crustacean meat teetering atop a dark squid-ink crumpet. It's mouth-coatingly rich – if a little claggy. However, the showstopper is a dish that looks almost boringly plain but turns out to be simplicity elevated to another level. Billed simply as ‘halibut', it's an exquisite creation involving chicken butter, sea radish and tender leeks, plus 'bonfire smoky' potatoes and sensationally seasoned greens.

There's just one dessert, but one is all you need when it’s a Willy Wonka-esque chocolate creation with a retro 'Caramac' twang. Cracking the crisp casing on its bed of crushed biscuits releases a white chocolate mousse with spiced apple at its centre, a disc of pickled ginger gel adding another spicy kick.

The drinks list is equally innovative with a handful of signature cocktails putting a bespoke spin on the classics. Alternatively, there’s a decent selection of natural and rare wines curated by Heron’s bar manager, Seoridh Fraser – check out the blackboard scrawled with intriguingly described daily specials. Named after a predatory seabird, Skua might have started life as Heron's little sister, but in terms of culinary prowess and wow-factor it's a thrilling prospect in its own right.

The people of Stockbridge are lucky to have this convivial enoteca and trattoria right in their midst. Sotto is a genuine neighbourhood spot – and then some. Spread over two floors, the easy-going contemporary space offers nimble, cheerful service and straightforward Italian cooking. All bases are covered here: pop in for a snack of salumi, tuck into a generous plate of pasta (perhaps mezze maniche with tomato, guanciale and pecorino from the exceedingly good-value set lunch menu) or dine in style on 'nduja-breaded pork chop with mustard mayo. Either way, the food is supported by a large, well-chosen wine list that explores Italy in conscientious detail. The warm welcome extends to furry, four-legged friends.

On the portico of this elegant Georgian tenement, in handsome serif script, is the single word Spry giving no hint of what’s going on inside, but step through the pillared entrance and you are in what is arguably Edinburgh's most stylish wine bar and bottle shop. To the right, a wall of organic and natural wines; in the centre, a row of stools spaced around an oak-topped, island bar that doubles as the kitchen. The furnishings are sparse – a sofa, a few tables and some handsome chairs.

Matt Jackson and partner Marzena Brodziak are the young couple behind this venture, which opened in 2019 with the aim of stocking wines free of additives and preservatives – a comprehensive range spanning the globe, but predominantly from small producers. Wines are offered by the glass; bottles come with a modest corkage charge. At lunch, we are recommended to try a fresh Kamptal Kolleltiv Grüner Veltliner and an equally sprightly Laurent Saillard Sauvignon-Ugni, Sauvignon Blanc.

Labneh with fresh and pickled cucumber is the opener from a selection of hot and cold small plates that changes daily. This might be followed by an intelligent partnership of cured mackerel and ripe cherries finished with buttermilk. From the hot dishes, we enjoyed aubergine with fava beans and gremolata, as well as a pollock paratha with saffron and yoghurt. A cheese course features Ragstone, Cora Linn or Stilton, each individually paired with crackers, preserves, chutney or pain perdu. Dessert is a cardamom panna cotta with cherries poached in red wine.

Quality sourdough bread and cultured butter (with offers of a top-up) plus a dish of Mignonette peppered almonds completes the line-up for a charming lunch. If you fancy something more substantial, they also offer a five-course set menu for £60 – although you will need to add £50 for wine pairings.

Tom Kitchin’s flagship has been solidly rooted in a converted whisky warehouse in Leith’s old docks since 2006 and is considered a mainstay of Edinburgh’s restaurant scene. That said, we were beginning to feel that it was becoming somewhat predictable (if not complacent), although a recent lunchtime visit showed a renewed sense of energy and vitality, combined with a desire to focus on this ‘jewel in the crown’ within the wider Kitchin portfolio. The dining room is intimate and relaxed, while a glazed wall allows guests a glimpse of the culinary theatre under the confident direction of head chef Lachlan Archibald – with Tom delivering regular cameos out front and at the pass.

The generous set lunch is complemented by a series of tasting menus as well as a carte – all offering exceptional seasonal ingredients given the classical French treatment, but with strong Scottish overtones. Highlights of our meal ranged from a gutsy yet subtle venison carpaccio arranged on intensely flavoured bone-broth jelly and finished with hazelnuts, pickled sprout tops, Parmesan shavings and pickled wild garlic bulbs to intense, glossy braised beef shin with Café de Paris butter and pommes Pont-Neuf, the rich caramelised flavours offset by a blue cheese salad.

Elsewhere, Hebridean lamb pithivier (slow-braised shoulder in a golden casing) displayed pretty pastry work, while morsels of rare rump were complemented by vibrant carrot variations spiked with Espelette pepper. Among the well-judged and grown-up desserts, our lemon soufflé (paired with local crème fraîche) was a towering temptation – almost criminal to deflate with a spoon. Service was spot-on. A comprehensive but never overwhelming wine list successfully balances classical and contemporary options, with a good range available by the glass and carafe.

With its rampant popularity all but necessitating a relocation to larger premises, this Leith upstart has matured into its new, grown-up home with grace, becoming an altogether more polished proposition as a restaurant. Carrying over the nautical blues and cool whites of its predecessor, the new room has a bright, Scandinavian quality, with the open kitchen breathing warm light across the restaurant. Getting a table on a Saturday night remains a matter of blind luck, or a wait of two or so months.

The expanded kitchen brigade, operating under co-owner Roberta Hall and head chef Dominic Greechan, delivers a concise, ambitious menu of dishes that are never less than meticulous, and are frequently beautiful. A case in point: a resplendent duck salad starter where a rosy, slightly gamey breast contrasts with the bittersweet crunch of ruddy castelfranco leaves, while a glossy, hearty bundle of accompanying rillettes is tempered by fruity laces of orange.

Mains are similarly praiseworthy. An eclectic two-part lamb dish (fillet and merguez sausage) showcases the delicious potential and variety of their nose-to-tail approach, while a perfectly cooked cod fillet, yielding and succulent with delicately crisp skin and shrimp butter, is very nearly upstaged by a small, flawless bowl of mash, adorned with a crown of brittle, saline seaweed. Desserts might flit between an unusually effervescent rhubarb trifle and the joyous experience of smearing funky, whipped Hebridean Blue cheese across a hot cross bun, while sipping a glass of chewy Portuguese tawny port.

Out front, Shaun McCarron has built on and embellished his experience in fine-dining service. His team is precise and knowledgeable, but as importantly, affable and relaxed, with a sommelier whose confident and well-considered suggestions draw on an exciting, varied and approachable list.

‘Great atmosphere, casual service and proper homemade food using local produce,’ is a winning formula at this formidable dining room in a former bank (complete with original marble, soaring ceilings, ornate wooden doorways and huge, slender windows). Run with personal charm and good humour, it’s an upbeat place that knows how to win friends and strike the right note between traditional and contemporary. Lloyd Morse’s kitchen takes a resolutely nose-to-tail approach, showcasing his deep love of Italian and French cuisine, with the emphasis firmly on provenance, seasonality and a style of cooking that is unfussy, hearty and deeply satisfying. One thought their pork belly with polenta and Parmesan was ‘delightful’, while others have praised the 'beautifully cooked’ Shetland lamb chops partnered by freekeh, runner beans and anchoïade; otherwise, consider a bowl of fish stew. The much-loved in-house bakery produces exceptional bread, as well as pastries, while desserts such as buttermilk panna cotta are highly praised. You can dine at the bar without booking, but don’t ignore the Newbarns beers, the coffee Negronis or the impressively adventurous wine list.

Set up by Edinburgh big-hitters Tom and Michaela Kitchin, this Georgian pub in Stockbridge is a neighbourhood resource that manages to feel both dynamically of its city, but also slightly rustic too, as though a country inn had found its way to the bright lights. Mismatched chairs and bare tables are the decorative order, and the menus speak a lightly accented dialect – 'Sit ye doon, yer welcome' – that should orient locals and carpetbaggers alike.

There are pub classics on offer, as you would expect, from neeped and tattied haggis to fish and chips with chunky tartare and a stonker of a house steak pie. Even the less obvious crowd-pleasers don't stray too far off-grid: smoked Orkney scallops with cauliflower and raisins is virtually a pub favourite in its own right now.

Vegetarians and kids are well looked after, and the dessert menu majors in toffee, chocolate and caramel in the colder months, rather than fruit – unless you count rhubarb as a fruit, giving panna cotta an oxalic kick up the buttermilk. An extensive list of wines by the glass in all sizes is exactly what we want to see, while Champagne comes courtesy of the underrated Philipponnat.

Built as a props warehouse in the 1800s before becoming a lumber store, the Radford family's aptly named Timberyard feels perfectly attuned to the space it occupies – monumental in scale but retaining intimacy and humility. Rough white walls, monastic timber tables, ecclesiastical candles and hemp linen may infer a certain cool asceticism – accentuated by the contemporary classical soundtrack – but there are certainly no metaphorical hair shirts where the food is concerned. Rusticity and refinement sit in perfect balance with the joyous celebration of flavours and a messianic elevation of honest ingredients, both foraged and from artisan producers. Slightly distant staff glide between the tables with almost ritualistic purpose.

Set menus include an extendable three-courses at lunchtime to fuller five-or seven-course options. An opening scene-setter of beach rose and tomato broth blends the Turkish delight aromas of foraged petals into a redolent consommé, while a raw beef toast masterfully offsets earthy funk with floral freshness. Follow on with tiny girolles in a Comté and hazelnut cream, draped in creamy slivers of guanciale and finished with shaved white truffle.

Each dish carefully builds the layers of taste, so a perfectly pan-roasted quail gets just enough sweetness and bite from its smoked onion and wilted monk’s beard accompaniments before harmonising the whole in the savoury creaminess of pan juices cut with black pepper yoghurt. Like so many of the dishes, the apparent simplicity of a raspberry and lavender dessert belies meticulous foundations: perfect fruits, seasoned juice, infused cream and a zingy gel.

If you don’t opt for one of the matched drinks flights, then 30-odd pages of all-natural and often unusual wines offer a compendious delight for those with a Mastermind 'specialist subject' interest. There are superlative choices in all categories, but markups are on the ferocious side. The sommelier offers ready advice and the unlisted, daily-changing wines by the glass are well-chosen – even if a measure of trust is expected when it comes to price and style.

Rachel Morgan and Emily Cuddeford have created something quite special with their small, Edinburgh-based artisan bakery group. Famed for their slow-fermented sourdough loaves and unique pastries, most venues are takeaway only, but Stockbridge residents are lucky to have a warmly welcoming café too (open from breakfast to mid-afternoon). Those in the know drop by for worth-a-detour croissants, pain au chocolat, cheese scones, sausage rolls or lunchtime sandwiches – and very good coffee. We missed out on the new-to-the-menu spinach, mint and feta swirl, but another new addition – an olive oil and sweet potato bun filled with walnuts and panela (unrefined whole cane sugar) – hit the spot. One of the city’s bakery stars.

Edinburgh’s Italian gastro-scene owes a great deal to members of the Contini dynasty, in fact their original deli and wine store remains ‘numero uno’ in the city with its treasure-trove of artisan provisions. Thread your way past the shelves of comestibles and regional wines to reach the jam-packed caffè bar at the back of the premises. Informal, all-day eating is the name of the game, and everything hinges on top-notch ingredients – including plenty of seasonal Scottish produce.

Drop by for breakfast (perhaps a signature ‘panetella’ sandwich with proper kick-start coffee) or call in later for some handmade pasta – spaghettini with palourde clams or orecchiette with cime di rape, anchovies and extra-virgin olive oil. Otherwise, share an antipasti platter or graze on a salad of fennel, orange and goat’s cheese. After that, move on to a ‘primi’ plate of, say, fritto misto or pistachio-crumbed lamb rump, before rounding off with V&C’s bombolone doughnuts, a delectable cake or some gelati.

The owners are wine merchants par excellence, and you can access their authoritative cellar by choosing a bottle from the shop; just add £8 to the retail price, and you're good to go. Alternatively, browse the short caffè list from your table; bottles start at £17, and everything is available by the glass.

Stuart Ralston’s Vinette, his take on the French bistro, was, until summer 2025, home to Scott Smith’s much-lauded establishment Fhior. Now, with a pared-back design, bare putty-coloured walls, wooden floors and simple wood furniture, the clean and uncluttered look is more neo-Nordic-monastic than Moulin Rouge – it’s down to the menu to carry the Parisian theme.

To start, the classic tartare has been given a Highland makeover, swapping beef for venison and teaming with beetroot and cranberry – it’s light, bright, delicate and fruity – while a silkily smooth chicken liver and foie gras parfait topped with sticky fig and triangles of toast is simply delicious. Then flavoursome cuts such as pork collar with cider-braised onion and mustard ooze hearty richness, while a dish of monkfish, mussels and purslane is tender and fragrant. They were teamed with simple sides of fries and green salad but upstaged by a creamy potato and celeriac tartiflette, topped with lardons and served in a small black, cast-iron cocotte – dish-scrapingly good. For dessert the dense and creamy burnt Basque cheesecake with vibrant plum compôte hits the spot.

The wine list is lengthy, French-focused but with a smattering of orange wines and there’s good choice by the glass. In the basement, there’s tiny neon-lit, Vivien, a Parisian-inspired bar. Named after Renée Vivien, a 19th-century lesbian poet and designed to evoke a speakeasy decadence, it’s bathed in a rosy glow and feels every inch the late-night drinking den.