Mother India's Cafe.

Mother India's Cafe

Punjabi spices and yoghurt, baked over the haddock the east coast lands, for GBP 9.75.7

Why go

Monir and Smeena Mohammed opened the first Mother India in 19906, in Glasgow5, and the cafe format came later as a way of serving Indian food in tapas sizes so a table eats across the card.7 Monir Mohammed started out as a kitchen porter at fourteen, when, as Kenny Smith put it in Scottish Field, most Scots were happy with a chicken korma. He then was lucky enough to spend some time with family in the Punjab, where he learned the ancient principles of Indian home cooking from scratch. He came home and mixed these with Scottish ingredients to create modern classics, and Smith names seasoned Scottish haddock as one of them.5 That is what the spiced haddock on this card is. This Edinburgh room has run the cafe format on Infirmary Street since 2008.3 The fish section is the deepest part of the Edinburgh card and it is what separates this kitchen from a curry house: monkfish tikka in a mustard-oil marinade, prawns malabari with coconut and tamarind, machi masala, chilli king prawns, fish pakora. The dish that states the whole idea is the spiced haddock, oven baked with Punjabi spices and yoghurt, which is a north Indian technique applied to the fish the east coast actually lands. Nothing on the menu passes GBP 14.75 and most of the chicken sits under GBP 11.7

Order this / avoid

• Order: the spiced haddock, GBP 9.75. Yoghurt in the marinade means lactic acid doing the tenderizing and protein holding moisture through the oven, which is why a lean white fish survives Punjabi spicing.7
• Order: the fish pakora, GBP 9.25. It is the plate Andy Hayler rated highest here, and he was specific about why: they use haddock, and it holds up.1
• Order: the monkfish tikka, GBP 14.75, the top price on the card. Mustard oil is pungent raw and sweetens when it hits heat, and on monkfish it does the job ghee cannot.
• Order: the railways lamb curry, GBP 11.95, which the menu describes as the chef's special dish with nuts, poppy seeds and cream. Poppy seed is a thickener before it is a flavor, and it is the reason that gravy sets the way it does.
• Order: the lamb handi biryani, GBP 11.15, if the table wants one thing carried to it whole. It arrives in a copper pot.
• Order: four plates between two and stop there. That is the menu's own instruction and it is what the price arithmetic is built on.
• Avoid: treating a dish as a main course. Portions are tapas sized, and the menu prints the ratio: three or four dishes between two people, then take it from there. The Skinny prints the same rule independently.4 A pair ordering two plates goes home hungry.

What locals & experts say

• Andy Hayler (2017) is the only critic who has scored the plates in this room, and his verdict is genuinely mixed. On the best of them: The best dish was fish pakora, fried fish in this case using haddock rather than tilapia, and with a clean tasting coating. Haddock has enough flavour to work well in this dish and hold its own with the spices, and was accurately cooked (14/20).1 His other marks that night ran 13, 12 and 11. On his scale 12 is ok, 13 is good and 15 is very good, so the paratha landed, the aloo gobi passed and the garlic chilli chicken did not.
• Hayler on the service, which is the caveat: The food itself was quite reasonable overall, if rather variable in standard, but if they struggle to serve two tables of diners competently then I dread to think how slow things must be on a busy evening.1 He also called it quite a casual place, with no tablecloths and service that was so relaxed it was practically horizontal. He priced the list the way he always does, against the shelf: a La Farfalla Pinot Grigio at GBP 18 that retails around GBP 7, on a seven-bottle card. That visit was in May 2017 and nobody has scored the kitchen since.
• The Edinburgh Evening News (2017) made the value argument in the terms the format invites: Dishes are usually slightly bigger than tapas, but don't cost that much more, meaning Mother India can add superb value to its welcoming atmosphere and friendly staff. Its call on what to get was the Lamb Saag and Keema Samosa impressing on our visit here.2
• Time Out Edinburgh (February 2026) files it at number 30 in the city and describes the shape of the card: Mother India began as a café in Glasgow in the '90s, and the Edinburgh outpost has been around since 2008, serving Indian food in tapas-size portions. There are some 50 dishes on offer, some putting a fresh twist on Indian restaurant staples – the chicken tikka, for instance, comes in two variations, with nuts or with peppers, mushrooms and tomatoes.3

Good to know

• Hours: midday to 9.30pm, seven days, and the venue states that as last orders. One continuous service, no split, and it is not a late room.
• Booking: through the group's own ResDiary link. The Glasgow sibling takes bookings only from parties of three; no equivalent threshold is published for Edinburgh, so do not assume it applies here.
• Groups: the format suits a table that wants to eat across a menu, and the practical catch is printed on the card. Parties of five or more pay a ten per cent service charge.
• Price: plates GBP 6.85 to GBP 14.75, breads GBP 2.55 to GBP 4.95, a popadom at 95p. Four plates between two runs about GBP 30 to GBP 40 of food, so GBP 15 to GBP 20 a head before drinks and before the bread. Prices read 4 August 2026 off the April 2026 menu.
• Dietary: vegan dishes are marked on the menu itself.
• Sites: one Mother India premises in Edinburgh, and this is it. The one to keep straight is Mother India's Cafe at 1355 Argyle Street, Glasgow, which trades under this exact name and is a different kitchen. The rest of the group is also in and around Glasgow: Mother India on Westminster Terrace, Dining In At Mother India at 1347 Argyle Street, and the Bearsden room, all separately registered and all still trading. A Glasgow review is not evidence about this kitchen.
• Getting there: Infirmary Street runs off South Bridge, a couple of minutes from the Royal Mile and about five from Waverley.
• Hygiene: Food Hygiene Information Scheme Pass, inspected 4 June 2024, FHRSID 68570. Twenty-six months old, so nothing recent has been published either way.8

Verdict

could-visit — The fish end of this card is the reason to walk down Infirmary Street. Monkfish tikka in a mustard-oil marinade at GBP 14.75, spiced haddock oven baked with Punjabi spices and yoghurt at GBP 9.75, prawns malabari with coconut and tamarind, machi masala, chilli king prawns, and nothing on the menu clears GBP 14.75. Portions are tapas sized and the card prints the ratio, three or four dishes between two, which puts four plates at about GBP 30 to GBP 40 of food for the table. North Indian technique applied to the fish the east coast actually lands is a real cross of two larders and it is deeper than that money usually buys. What holds the rung down is the craft evidence. Andy Hayler is the only critic who has ever scored the plates in this room, on 11 May 2017, and his marks ran 14, 13, 12 and 11 on a scale where 12 means ok and 15 means very good. His best mark went to the fish pakora for the same reason the fish section is interesting, haddock carrying enough flavor to hold up under spice and cooked accurately. His worst went to a garlic chilli chicken, and he summed the night up as reasonable overall and variable in standard. He also filed a service complaint on a quiet early lunch with two tables in the room, and nobody has tested this kitchen in the nine years since. Time Out has it at number 30 in the city as of February 2026, which shows the room is still regarded and carries no judgment on the cooking. The Glasgow original sits at must-visit on this list and none of that transfers here: separate premises, separate brigade, and a Glasgow citation is not evidence about this address. So this is the room you eat in when the Old Town is already where you are. Order across the fish, take four plates between two, and get there before 9.30 because that is last orders every night.