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This article is part of FT Globetrotter’s guide to Edinburgh
What do you imagine when you think about Scottish cuisine? Here’s a guess: haggis, neeps and tatties, deep-fried Mars bars and whatever else can be battered and plunged into 190C oil — washed down with tangerine-coloured Irn-Bru. Or maybe you don’t think about Scottish food at all.
Scottish cuisine has long been subject to a number of unfair and outdated perceptions about what it is and whether it’s any good (even by Scots themselves). But this is rapidly changing in a country that is home to some of the most sought-after ingredients on the planet: abundant game, plump scallops, half of the world’s supply of langoustines, to name just a few.
In Edinburgh, Scotland’s bounty is on show like never before thanks to a new generation of chefs who are transforming the capital into one of the most exciting dining destinations in the UK. Chief among the young talent is Sam Yorke, the wunderkind behind Michelin-starred restaurant Heron in Leith, where farm-to-table, seasonal Scottish ingredients are brought to the fore with à la carte and tasting menus that change every few weeks.
Heron has been on my restaurant wishlist ever since I sampled Yorke’s cooking at a London pop-up last year so I am keen to dive into the full experience — all of the courses, all of the wines. Bring it on.
When we turn up for an early Saturday lunch, the bright, pared-back dining room, a corner venue with an unparalleled view of the waterfront, is not yet busy, so we snag a prime table by the window to gluttonously while away a blustery April afternoon.
Exactly what the heart desires on a frigid day deftly sets the tone: a warming bowl of coffee-coloured onion broth — simple at face value but in fact a real labour of love, simmering, sieving and skimming until the liquid is perfectly clear.
What follows is an encyclopedic array of Scottish ingredients. Some are served in unexpected ways: the Orkney scallop, for example, is raw and finely diced, dressed with olive oil and topped with a healthy amount of caviar, a fabulous pickle cream sauce and tiny bits of hazelnut. Other dishes are reassuringly familiar (venison loin, medium-rare, earthy accoutrements) but no less rousing. The whole menu is a spirited lesson in modern Scottish cuisine and an audience with one of the country’s very best young talents.
But all that you really need to know about Yorke’s cooking can be summed up by the most humble product of all: a spud, which at Heron shines as an individual course. This Hasselback potato looks like it’s going to a Bridgerton ball, wrapped in a silky oyster cream sauce and topped with a fascinator made of crisps, trout roe and dill. It is comforting, punchy, creamy and crunchy, warming but fresh — a total flex. If Yorke can do this to a tattie, what can’t he do?
“Some people turn their nose up at it a little bit — they’ll say that it’s just a potato,” he says. “But it’s nice to show something that’s quite simple and elevate it in a way that it’s worthy of being on the menu.” He’s pleased that we’ve understood the assignment. “I feel sad now that I’ve eaten it,” my husband says, looking longingly at his spotless plate, all evidence of the potato’s existence wiped clean like he’s covered up a crime scene. Bridgerton meets Broadchurch.
I first encountered Yorke at a Burns Night supper in 2023 at Carousel, London’s rotating chef restaurant. Three chefs had travelled from Scotland to each cook a course on the menu, and Yorke’s venison dish was staggeringly good. I was astonished to learn that he was only 25 and had already been running a restaurant for a couple of years with another 20-something chef. Heron was awarded a Michelin star just a month later, making Yorke the youngest Scottish chef in history to clock up the accolade.
“At the time, I was in the process of separating from my previous business partner so it was bittersweet, but retaining the star this year meant a lot more,” he says. “It’s been me [running the business] on my own for the past year, so it’s an amazing feeling — it’s a testament to the whole team.”
Service at Heron is certainly a team affair. Everyone we meet is enthusiastic, friendly and knowledgeable, but inclusively so. In particular Heron’s sommelier, Seoridh Fraser, who has worked there since day one, thoughtfully explains his pairings in a way that even those with little knowledge of wine could follow. “We pride ourselves on our professionalism without being pretentious,” Yorke says. “It’s storytelling — it’s not just about the wine, but the delivery as well.”
One of Fraser’s most novel combinations for our meal — two drinks for one dish — adds a fun dose of drama to a banger of a course: East Lothian pork with a lovely little slice of jamón ibérico, a morel stuffed with nduja, and a slick, cinnamon-fragranced pork sauce cut with sherry vinegar. Fraser advises that we eat the first half of the dish with a Spätburgunder from Germany’s Ahr region and finish the rest with marsala. It’s brilliant. The wine list, too, is cleverly curated, with an excellent selection of classics such as right-bank Bordeaux alongside interesting bottles from lesser-celebrated regions like Greece, Croatia and Lebanon. (Non-alc drinks are also available.)
There is a lot of eating (and drinking, potentially) in a meal at Heron — the whole tasting menu is around a dozen courses — but there are no skippable tracks on this album. It is not cheap at £125 per head before wine, but it is certainly excellent value. And if you can do that to a potato? Take my money.
Opening times: Wednesday–Friday, 5.30pm–9pm (last booking); Saturday–Sunday, 12pm–2pm (last booking) and 5.30pm–9pm (last booking) 87-91a Henderson Street, Leith, Edinburgh EH6 6ED; heron.scot
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