Dine like a local: chef Stuart Ralston’s guide to Edinburgh

Roberta [Hall-McCarron] is a serious cook and it shows. Ardfern on a Sunday is up there with the best places to eat and drink in the city. It’s relaxed but dialled in. Nothing feels forced, nothing feels lazy. Order the roast – properly cooked meat, crisp potatoes, gravy with real depth and vegetables that have actually been thought about, and the stuffed Yorkshire pudding is proper. Drinks-wise, start with a bloody Mary, move on to a glass of skin-contact wine, and settle in. You can spend the whole afternoon there and not want to leave. That’s usually a sign.

An Edinburgh newbie but more refined than you might expect. Focused, purposeful and properly run, there’s energy in the room, but it’s controlled, polished and professional. Incredible products are cooked with heart by chef James Murray and the cocktails are a great reason to go in themselves.

Ingredient-led, thoughtful and quietly confident, Eòrna’s a serious cook’s restaurant. There’s no unnecessary noise on the plate, just flavour combinations that make sense and cooking that shows restraint. This elegant chef’s table experience is run by one chef, Brian, and one sommelier, Glen. You feel the care in the detail, from cured fish to shared pithivier. It’s proper cooking and incredible wine.

_{Photo by Ladislav Piljar}

Small, focused and completely assured in its identity, Hey Palu is one of the best drinking rooms in the city. It feels like a proper Italian neighbourhood bar that happens to be in Edinburgh. Start with a perfectly balanced Negroni or let them guide you into something amaro led. They understand structure, bitterness and texture in drinks, and the hospitality is second to none.

One of those places chefs really love, with bold flavours, sharp execution and no dilution of character. Expect dishes that lean into miso, fermentation, chilli and depth. It feels modern but grounded, which I respect. There’s confidence, but it’s also just really delicious and fun.

_{Photo by Sula Wilding}

Fred [Berkmiller] runs this place with real conviction. His knowledge of food is deep, proper old school in the best sense. He understands provenance, seasonality and classical French cooking in a way that feels lived in, not performed. He grows much of the produce himself, which tells you everything about the intent. This is what French cooking is actually about: respect for ingredients, technique that exists to support flavour, and sauces with body and depth. If there’s a cassoulet, a rich terrine or something slow cooked and generous on the menu, that’s where I’d go. It feels authentic. That’s rare.

Fire cooking, thoughtful sourcing and a clear sense of identity and point of view – Timberyard feels cohesive from the food to the glassware. If there’s venison or aged beef on, that’s where I’d go. Their wine list is really impressive and you feel so well looked after. The interiors are beautiful, also. 

I’ve gone back here for years because it does what it does – real quality sushi – properly and always delivers. The otoro belly is the order: proper fat content, clean knife work, served simply so it can speak for itself. The sushi across the board is solid and respectful. Also, the takoyaki: hot, soft, savoury, that hit of bonito and sauce. Comfort food done really well.