I had my first Sunday lunch of 2026 in Edinburgh's grandest restaurant

I am skint in this life.

However, I get the feeling that I was quite wealthy in my last existence. That’s because, every time I enter a posh space, like the vast marble-hewn former banking hall that is Edinburgh’s four-year-old Gleneagles Townhouse, I think, “ahhh, I’m home, sweetie”, and want someone to fetch me my maribou-trimmed slippers.

I love everything about this interior, especially the central bar and the curvy velvety seats, like those in a Victorian parlour.

Anyway, this is definitely not my first time through the doors. The occasion?

Well, I’ve never tried their traditional Sunday lunch before, and, since we’re motoring through February, I’m overdue on a blow-out meaty weekend feed.

Also, they’ve just taken delivery of a new executive chef - Elliott Hill, formerly of The Chester Grosvenor Hotel.

He’s already tweaked the menus. The a la carte features new dishes including a snack of lobster and crayfish scone with bloody Mary rose sauce and radish (£18), or mains such as halibut Cullen skink, smoked haddock, potato and seaweed (£38) or Highland venison, red cabbage, deer stalker pie (poor deer stalker) and hedgerow preserve (£42).

While, the refreshed Sunday lunch is comparatively good value, at two courses for £38 or three for £43.

We started in the manner I am accustomed to - well, in the last life, anyway, not so much in this one - with a wee glass of chilled Veuve Clicquot (£18) each.

Then, from four choices of starter, I chose the oak smoked salmon, creme fraiche and cucumber preserve, which was lovely, with two squares of rye bread, and three strips of this hotel’s vibrant coral-coloured speciality.

He had the onion soup - definitely a new addition to the menu. It was served in a bowl that had a rim like a giant Polo mint, and featured a bowl of rich and sweet broth, with an island of braised onion, tiny blobs of piquant gel and borage flowers on top, plus a little raft on the side that consisted of toast, Anster cheese and shaved black truffle.

This was the daddy Warbucks of croutons, and you avoided any soggyness, since you were the sailing captain, who was responsible for the bread’s launch.

There isn't just red meat for your main course on a Sunday, as you can also order a winter vegetable pithivier or trout. No chicken, which is quite unusual.

He upgraded for an extra £4 to the sirloin of beef, and they were very generous with their vast A5 sized slices and the punchy horseradish cream accompaniment.

I had the pork, which consisted of two very thick slabs, with a crackling that was so crunchy that George Street shoppers could hear my crunches, and a smudge of some - more, please - toffee apple sauce on the side.

The beef was the clear winner.

Also, excellent Yorkshire puddings. I am not a fan of this genre, but I can still evaluate a Yorkie, like I’m a dog-hating judge at Crufts. These had the crunchy frills around the lid that devotees adore and the deep cavernous core for administering gravy.

Every table gets a wee jug of this to share. I’m sure you can have extra, if you ask nicely.

The spuds, served in a tin with the other veggies, were decent, but the honey roasted carrots and parsnips were best, and there was a base layer of bright green cabbage underneath.

We also tried a portion of cauliflower cheese (£8). It divided the crowd. He’s not a fan of feral cheeses, like blue or goaty ones. While I love a fresh-out-of-the-barn stinker. This was for me. I don’t know what cheese species were in that mix, but I ate the whole lot myself.

Pudding was a triumph.

Although it’s an additional £4pp, when you could stick to the set menu price and go for other old chestnuts like apple crumble, sticky toffee or chocolate ice-cream sundae, we’re glad we went for the baked Alaska. They do the flambéing the Italian meringue at the table theatrical thing, and this is the sort of room that’s made for this kind of hoo-ha.

On top of the freshly burnished dome, they scattered honeycomb, pistachios, gingery toasted oats, and a sticky mixture of honey, orange and Cointreau.

“The best dessert I’ve had in forever,” said my other half, as he scraped the bottom of the metal tureen.

I was sad when it was time to give my velvety seat a last stroke, because I just enjoy hanging out here.

Blame the last life, for this Gleneagles Townhouse penchant.

39 St Andrew Square, Edinburgh, (0131-322 3780, www.gleneagles.com)

Read more: “I'm always asked where to find Edinburgh's best Sunday lunch, now I know what to tell them”

Read more: “I had a hearty and brilliant Sunday lunch at my new favourite Edinburgh pub”

Read more: “I tried the £99 dinner at this luxury five-star Scottish hotel and was utterly spoiled rotten”

Read more: “I tried the buzzy new Edinburgh luxury hotel restaurant that's got everyone talking”

Read more: “I took my family to their favourite Edinburgh restaurant, where the queue is still down the street”