Barry Fish

62 Shore, Leith

Phone: 0131 625 0000

‘The cooking is barry, and so’s the chef”, I chuckled to myself, understanding the joke that the proprietor is playing. It’s one for the locals, of course: only Edinburghers and Romani speakers use the word “barry” to mean “good”. But good it means, and Barry Fish is barry.

Barry Bryson is an accomplished chef, cutting his teeth in private dining, pop-ups and high-scale events. He’s the kind of person Rolls Royce used to call up to cater for a big shindig, and he has flown south to cater for the British ambassador in Uruguay – a chap who now lives in the city too, co-incidentally.

Now Barry has set down roots in this wonderful part of Edinburgh, right on the Shore. (Is this correct? Or should we say “on Shore”? Proper deployment of the great single-word Edinburgh street names has not been definitively established. I was chatting to someone about this on Mound only the other day.)

Anyway, enough filler and at Barry’s Fish there is plenty of killer. It is a startlingly good fish restaurant and perfectly relaxed, with a sense of fun about it. The building housing Mimi’s Bakehouse has been cut too, much like it were a Victoria sponge. On the right, Mimi’s continues in a smaller form, although the cake sizes remain dauntingly impressive. On the left, Barry has moved in and decorated the resultant new space wonderfully.

When we walk in, it feels bright, airy and exudes a confident sense of style. An influencer is posing at the next table. The seats are comfortable, which is important if you are likely to spend a lot of time in the place. And I, reader, intend to do just that.

For most of the week, there are three menu-waves. A “low-tide” menu runs through to 3pm, ideal for a late lunch. So called “Big Snacks” float out from 4.30pm to 6.30pm, and you could eat very well from these. Dinner itself starts at 6pm, offering a short set of mains; the big snacks from earlier may now be ordered as starters. My first visit was on a Sunday, when the rules are simpler and a brunch menu runs long into the lazy afternoon.

As we order, I notice just how well the restaurant has been designed. Someone has thought about the space and décor and reflected on what makes for a good meal. The tables have pleasing round edges; the banquette is in a shade of aquamarine that would look terrible in a domestic setting but works here; the wireless table lamps operate on recycled fishbones, or perhaps some kind of LED. And draping across the stylishly pale walls, three enormous wire artforms of boned fish grace the room. They are delightful. Yes, I am guilty of coveting my restaurant’s artwork. If one goes missing Barry, you know how to find me.

Being a Sunday brunch menu, we order everything on it except the oysters which had been rudely scoffed by someone else. No worries, because the standard of cooking is extremely high and this is a place where you want the food to have more involvement from the kitchen than the prising of an oyster chuck. Barry and his team know how to handle a fish. His experience of event catering, where every canape needs to carry a punchy flavour, shows.

There is a lot of fish, cooked with much finesse, yet the flavours are big and the flavours are bold. Smoked haddock kedgeree was saucy, spicy and set off with a forest of diced chives which brought necessary freshness. What could have been a simple dish of asparagus and egg was elevated. The asparagus, early in the season, came from an excellent Perthshire grower, the eggs were clearly the hen’s finest, and the wild garlic puree covered the plate in reassuring quantities. Superb ingredients, deftly cooked.

Barry’s fish pastrami was also good. I’ve seen similar crop up on menus a lot recently; it’s the new cheffy thing to do. But again, the combination of sourcing and preparation elevated this to top levels, with aioli, grapes and capers helping. I loved it.

One dish was called Eyemouth Crab Focaccia Toast, which does what it says on the tin but with a hidden Mull cheddar bechamel. Cheesy crab, basically; a refinement on lobster thermidor. Now, a word about the potatoes, which arrive in the Lyonnaise style. That is to say, they have been fried until an inch of their life in a way which made me thankful for the sacrifice of the said tuber. On top came salt, of course, and a punchy wild garlic pesto. This is the kind of food you could eat every day, perhaps several times a day, but please seek medical advice first.

Next came “The Big Fish!”: not just any fish, but a fish!, apparently. It’s a species whose chief characteristic appears to be that it is yummy. Or perhaps that should be yummy! I do not know how a chef can make The Big Fish! so soft and melting on the inside, but crisp as a crispy thing on the outside. I suspect this is achieved through rapid and fierce heat. It was beautifully plated up whole, with charred greens and a ramson and herb sauce. We ate every morsel and licked every bone.

A short dessert menu is cleverly done. The rhubarb trifle was on-point and the chocolate mousse with blackberries looked damn fine. Marmalade ice-cream completed the list; all things the kitchen can prepare in advance and focus service time on getting the fish cookery as good as it is.

Service was tremendous and friendly. Wines were sensibly-priced and covered all the bases one might want. This is a great place to come with friends to eat, drink and be merry. I have an inkling that this one is a stayer and that Leith will fall in love with Barry and his fish.

Food 7/10    Value 8/10