Whirlybird Edinburgh – Review

There are few streets in Edinburgh that work as hard for the tourists as Victoria Street. Curving down just off the Royal Mile, its ribbon of rainbow-painted shopfronts and cornucopia of businesses are a delight to the steady stream of visitors who shuffle down its cobbles daily in quest of the perfect photograph. It is, in other words, exactly the location where a restaurant could coast on its postcode alone, which is exactly what the newly opened Whirlybird refuses to do.

Named after the Scots word for the spinning sycamore seed, which, as a child, could quietly entertain you for hours as you threw it into the air and watched it helicopter back down to earth. a fitting choice for a venue that has settled quietly into the street. Its exterior is painted cream, with subtle red trims around the window, a soft contemporary finish to its facade. Sitting centrally, the sign drew my eye, a rather wonderful one-line drawing of a figure juggling a martini and a wine bottle. My grandfather was a draughtsman, and signed off every letter he sent me with a little line-drawn animal in the footer, so I have a soft spot for that kind of thing.

Step inside and you’re greeted immediately by the cocktail bar, where you can perch for a drink or make a whole evening of it. On the Friday night we visited, it was pleasantly packed, a continuous buzz in the air of celebration. To the right lies the ground-floor restaurant, and beyond, a stone spiral staircase winds up to the upper floor, a meander of interconnected rooms that look down over the comings and goings of Victoria Street below. That staircase brought back memories of my own days working in a restaurant in Glasgow, where a near-identical staircase ran between the kitchen and the dining floors and taught me quickly how to balance plates and trays of drinks whilst negotiating tipsy customers.

Interiors are pared back, revealing the building’s natural stonework. We arrived early evening, with summer light pouring into this 250-year-old space. As the evening progressed, Scandi-style downlighting took over, tuning it into a space you want to sit in all evening lingering with a drink.

We sit downstairs at a corner table, set back slightly, cosy, with both seats commanding a view across the restaurant’s comings and goings. We start with a cocktail while we peruse the menu. The drinks menu is the work of Jono McDowell, formerly of Panda & Sons, who also happened to be serving us that night, so special thanks to Jono! I went for my go-to, a margarita, presented in a coupe glass with a sophisticated half-rim of powdered salt, while my friend chose the Whirlybird Highball, a signature serve of Woven whisky, Lucky bramble, maple and citrus lengthened with soda into something bright, brambly and dangerously gulpable.

The kitchen is led by Lucia Gregusova, whose career has taken her from French bistros in Massachusetts to her own over-flame Cauldron in Bristol, and on to Edinburgh by way of Hawksmoor, The Raeburn and the opening team at Duck & Waffle. I opted for the Whipped Crowdie, a fresh, faintly sour Highland curd cheese whipped to a cloud, dressed with pickled heritage radish and a generous stack of freshly made pumpkin-seed crackers to scoop or layer the cheese onto. My friend chose the Smoked Mackerel, a bright summer plate, generous flakes of oily fish in a tangle of watercress and sharpened with a sherry vinaigrette and lifted by smoked almonds dusted a deep paprika orange. Both were excellent, good enough that we performed the familiar ritual of swapping plates halfway through, each reluctant to let the other finish the plate off.

For mains, I opted for the flat iron seared steak slices, a must for any hardcore carnivore, the meat fanned out blushing pink at the centre, seared at the edges, and dressed with a green salsa almost chimichurri in style and shouldered up against a tangle of rocket and shaved parmesan. We also went for the special that day, a bone-in grilled pork chop, bearing diamond grill marks alongside a charred hispi cabbage, an aioli-style dressing and crispy shallots.

By this point, whilst quietly full, we were easily convinced to opt for a dessert. Another ritual with my friend, controversial to cheese haters, was to go for something sweet and savoury for dessert. We opted for the plate of Scottish cheeses alongside The Date and Brown Butter Madeleines. The madelines come warm and shell-backed in a shallow pool of toffee sauce, a bulbous quenelle of ice cream slumping gently into the heat and a glossy knot of dates resting on top. The only problem with them is that three isn’t enough, they were so delicious.

The temptation on Victoria Street is always to keep walking, but Whirlybird makes the better case, stop, sit down, order a cocktail, and let everyone else chase the photograph. We loved it, and it’s absolutely worth adding to your list of restaurants in Edinburgh to experience.