At the Shore in Leith, the rhythm of the city changes. The cobbles slow your pace, boats sway lazily on the Water of Leith, and gulls wheel above the rooftops. It feels like somewhere between a harbour town and a neighbourhood that never quite lost its soul. Here, in a modest building looking out over the water, sits Barry Fish, a restaurant with a simple idea. Cook the best Scottish seafood, avoid fuss, and let people relax.
Barry Fish is small and warm. There is no grand entrance or theatrical reveal. Instead, diners walk straight into a space where the kitchen takes centre stage. You can see everything from the pass, from the scattering of herbs to the quick nods between chefs. There is something grounding about it. No mystery. No bravado. Just a team cooking food that matters to them.
Chef Barry Bryson has spent years working across Edinburgh, but this is the first time his name stands above the door. Since opening, Barry Fish has attracted attention in that slow, word of mouth way that money cannot buy. Locals wander in after work. Friends tell friends. Then the restaurant guides started to notice. Within months, Barry Fish found itself in the Michelin Guide and named as one of the best local restaurants in the country. Not because of hype. Because the place feels genuine.
The menu has the confidence to stay simple. Fish comes in from Scottish waters and the kitchen treats it with respect. A half lobster arrives with soft smoked fish agnolotti. The Barry Fish pastrami made from sea trout might be one of the most quietly addictive dishes to come out of Leith in a while. There is no attempt to overwork anything. The flavours are clean and honest. It feels like food cooked by people who enjoy eating.
The dining room invites you to slow down. Windows overlook the Water of Leith, where the light shifts across the river. The best seats face both the open kitchen and the water, so you can watch chefs at work while still feeling connected to the calm outside. Diners linger. A shared plate turns into a longer lunch. Someone orders another glass of wine.
Barry speaks of the restaurant as a collaboration rather than an achievement. Suppliers, staff, guests. In his view, Barry Fish exists because of the people who helped shape it. It sounds sentimental, but once inside, it makes sense. The place feels personal without trying to be profound.
With winter approaching, Barry Fish is exploring festive seafood feasts inspired by traditional coastal celebrations. Think fish at the centre of the table rather than predictable December roasts. It suits the restaurant. The team seems happiest when they can serve food that brings people together.
Leith is already known as one of Scotland’s most interesting dining areas. Barry Fish doesn’t chase that reputation. It strengthens it by being exactly what it wants to be. A good restaurant, in a good place, serving good fish.
The kind of spot you remember not because someone told you to go, but because you stumbled upon it and instantly felt you were meant to be there.
Sometimes that is all a restaurant needs to be.
