Mr & Mrs Smith

Rick’s isn’t exactly a hotel: it’s a designer bar with 10 contemporary rooms. When Mr Smith and I arrived, we were a little confused about its status – who stays in bars, anyway? But this isn’t just any bar. Low ceilings and coloured mood lighting give it a cosy, intimate atmosphere; brown banquette seats, burgundy leather cubes and giant cacti in stone pots make attractive surrounds. It’s modern, it’s hip, and, best of all, it’s bang in the middle of Edinburgh.

The door up to the rooms is at the back of the bar, past the open-plan kitchen. Simple but stylish, small but perfectly formed, the rooms complement the bar below. There’s no view to speak of, but for a room this central, we’re not complaining. It’s the small touches that go a long way – White Company toiletries, plush bath robes, fresh flowers. Then there are the mod cons, all Bose speakers, HD TVs, Bang & Olufsen phone and WiFi-ready iTouch. And have we mentioned the bed? The springy, sumptuous bed – Egyptian Cotton-enhanced, and almost as wide as the room.

After a brasserie-style lunch downstairs, we step out into the early summer Scottish sun, and head to Harvey Nicks, reasoning that what we saved on the room should be splurged in the shops. Laden with bags, we lug ourselves up to the top of Calton Hill, as dusk creeps in among the Roman ruins overlooking enchanting Edinburgh. As the sun sets over this beautiful northern answer to Athens, we’ve filled up on culture and decide it’s time to fill up on food.

Luckily for us, Mr Smith has prudently made a reservation at 21212, so we stumble down the hill onto Royal Terrace and take our seats for the epic tasting menu. You get two choices of starter, a soup, two choices of main, some cheese in between, two choices of… you catch the drift. Each plate is so complex that every mouthful might as well be its own dish. Take the Chinese-style fish: baked fillet of seabass, lemon and saffron pancakes, pink radish, cashews, butternut squash, shiitake mushrooms, dried cherries, chorizo, rice, pumpkin seeds, sweetcorn and, last but by no means least, cardamom ginger butter sauce. Sounds weird? It’s delicious.

After a well-matched wine too many, we head to the sunken doorway of the Opal Lounge, where our names are on the door, thanks to the manager at Rick’s. The rest is a blur; we fell headlong into a whisky-sampling session. We now felt more Scottish than Mel Gibson in Braveheart – if there had been a midnight kilt shop open, we’d have been there.

Eventually, Mr Smith sagely calls it a night and a taxi whisks us back to Rick’s and that bed. We climb the steps (there’s no lift), and they’re suddenly mountainous. It’s a relief when we see our room number projected in red on the door.

It’s with fuzzy heads that we descend to breakfast in the bar the next morning, gratefully perked up by coffee as we pick from a welcomely abridged menu of maybe five items (full English, Belgian waffle, eggs Benedict, etc). Everything is served with a smile, and it’s a fully laid-back affair.

We venture out into the bright light of day behind sunglasses, heading up to the castle and then for a stroll down the Royal Mile, where Mr Smith can’t resist the temptation to relive last night, and poses willingly beside a wild-looking man with flowing locks and blue face paint. Ah yes, Braveheart.

Dinner on our final night reflects what Rick’s does best: amazing value, with flourishes, like the lengthy wine list, that go the extra mile. Mr Smith goes for a surf ’n’ turf combo of giant prawn in lemon and garlic butter starter and enormous steak main; I plump for some wild mushroom ravioli and chargrilled chicken with roasted tomatoes and a fragrant basil risotto. The place is heaving, but we’re never overlooked.

Rick’s makes a good spot to eat or drink any time of day, and transforms itself seamlessly, as the hours pass, from brunch spot to contemporary brasserie to sexy late-night bar, attracting the kind of unpretentious hipsters we love Edinburgh for. This is a little urban jewel to pop in and out of. What’s more, Rick’s owns some of the most inviting establishments in town, so you feel as though you’ve joined a sort of club for the weekend. We’ll be wearing our badges with pride.