At almost any bakery in Aberdeen you can buy a buttery — a flat, flaky, salty roll, somewhere between a squashed croissant and a disc of lard, that legend says fishermen took to sea because the fat kept it edible for a fortnight. Aitkens make theirs light and crispy, Chalmers softer and pillowy, JG Ross somewhere in between. The first written record of it dates to 1899, and during the First World War, when bread was restricted, butteries were exempted as part of the food of the working classes. You order one warm, with butter, which is gilding, but nobody will stop you.
The city is built almost entirely of granite, which is why it sparkles faintly in the sun and is otherwise very grey. Base yourself in the centre for His Majesty's Theatre and the art gallery, in Rosemount for bakeries and independent cafés, or in the leafy West End among the granite mansions oil money built. Ferryhill sits next to Duthie Park; Old Aberdeen keeps its cobbles, King's College and St Machar's Cathedral.
Union Street is the grand Victorian spine, currently dug up by long-running roadworks. Its pubs are the reason to come anyway. The Prince of Wales, down a lane off it and dating to around 1850, has one of the longest bar counters in the country at eighteen metres and up to eight ale pumps. Ma Cameron's claims to be the oldest pub in the city, going back to 1746. The Grill keeps a world-renowned whisky list and was, in local lore, men-only until relatively late in the last century.
For food, Glenhouse opened in 2025 inside Canada House doing steak, pasta and small plates; Estabulo runs Brazilian rodizio with continuous tableside carving; Gidi Grill does West African and Caribbean with its own hot sauces. On Belmont Street the Sand Dollar Café serves chicken and waffles and spicy elk meatballs, and Books and Beans pairs fair-trade coffee with ten thousand second-hand books and leather armchairs.
Down at the harbour mouth is Fittie, the old fishing village. The architect John Smith laid it out in 1808 as cottages in enclosed squares, all turned backs-to-the-sea against the storms. Between the houses stand the tarry sheds, built from harbour driftwood and now painted every colour their owners could find. Along from it runs a flat two-mile beach with surfers, ice cream and Codona's amusement park, run by the same family since 1970.
Marischal College, the second-largest granite building in the world after El Escorial, is now the council's headquarters. St Machar's Cathedral has an oak ceiling of around 1520 carrying forty-eight coats of arms, Pope Leo X in the middle. The medieval Brig o' Balgownie, Scotland's oldest bridge, carries a rhyme predicting it will fall under an only son riding a mare's only foal — a wager Aberdonians have declined to test.
The station and bus station sit together at Union Square, a short walk from the centre, with direct trains as far as London. Byron, who grew up here, remembered that bridge in Don Juan; Annie Lennox was born and raised in the city. Ask an Aberdonian where you're staying and they may say "furry boots" — Doric for whereabouts — which is how the place got the nickname.