Edinburgh's best pubs: Where history, whisky and wit flow freely

It's easy to imagine that the landlord of the Oxford Bar in Edinburgh's New Town might have hired the three craggy-faced Scotsmen who sit together in the tiny front room.

Weatherbeaten to puce, with magnificent silver moustaches and generous sideburns, they balance on stools worn into shape by their buttocks, offering a broad-backed barricade against blow-ins trying to order a pint.

More importantly, they lend a hard-bitten authenticity to the pub that features so strongly in Ian Rankin's bestselling Inspector Rebus novels.

"It's more than just a pub," Rankin has said. "It represents something to Rebus, something unchanging in a changing world."

Tourists visit the Oxford Bar with guidebooks stuffed into their cargo pockets, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rankin or a ghostly reflection of Rebus. They are rewarded with a small, framed photograph of the author and another picture of actor Ken Stott playing the detective in the ITV show, and a glimpse of a front bar, at least, that remains largely unchanged.

There are about 385 establishments that identify as pubs in Edinburgh, but many of them are really just bars. There is an important difference: a bar might have a future, but a pub must have a past (real or imagined). A good bar is of its moment, a good pub is of its place.

Edinburgh's oldest pub, the Sheep Heid Inn Country Pub & Restaurant, sits on the edge of Holyrood Park, near the bottom of the popular hike from the Scottish Parliament to the volcanic peak of Arthur's Seat.

Hikers who've worked up a thirst traditionally reward themselves with a beer in the pub.

The Sheep Heid feels like an English country pub, with a comfortable collection of mantel clocks, a mounted sheep's head (of course) and a full-sized skittle alley running alongside a gorgeous beer garden. (Beer gardens are highly prized in Edinburgh, due to some kind of mass delusion about the Scottish climate.)

Be warned: there are lots of hikers and not many tables at the Sheep Heid. Book in advance if you're planning on having lunch.

Many more traditional-looking Edinburgh pubs are often shopfronts (generally painted blue) that open into one big room decorated with bric-a-brac from an imagined golden age of public drinking, such as posters advertising drinks and cigarettes that haven't been available since Scotland last had a decent rugby team.

Traditional places often do not serve food, and this seems to be a badge of pride, helping to separate a serious drinking den from a "bar & kitchen".

At the Blue Blazer in New Town, which was modernised in the 1990s to make it look older, a sign on the window warns Americans not to expect a meal (although the pub does offer a free cheeseboard with the Sunday papers on Sundays).

Read more on Explore:

Another notice says "no stag parties" and "no wankers".

New customers often joke, "I'm not a wanker, but my friend here is," and the bar staff never tire of hearing this.

A notice on the bar answers the American tourists' question, "What can't I get in the States?" with the names, ages and prices of various rare whiskies, and the taunting "Free health care".

I'd like to take a picture, but I'm afraid people might think I'm American.

At the friendly and cosy Dagda Bar near Edinburgh University, the barman recommends world-class Scottish-brewed Schiehallion Lager to students who ask for the more prosaic and popular Tennent's. But the Dagda is not just a student pub and its mixed clientele adds to its appeal.

There are a couple of decent pubs nestled among the tartan tatt of the Royal Mile, which trails from Holyrood to Edinburgh Castle.

The Devil's Advocate, near the Judicial Office of Scotland, was a lawyers' pub in the era when the trades and professions had their own drinking holes. It now styles itself as a bar and kitchen, although there is still an unadorned (and virtually unfurnished) front room where more dedicated drinkers can enjoy bar snacks including both haggis and vegetarian haggis.