Stonehaven, the newly crowned home of the world’s finest fish supper experience, is also a globally acclaimed hothouse of gastronomic innovation. Its symbiotic relationship with the deep-fat fryer is illustrative of Scotland’s as a whole and began in 1992. That was when the Carron fish bar launched its infamous deep-fried Mars bar, a full-blooded wee confection which went on to launch a thousand quips, mainly at Scotland’s expense, and waves of recrimination among the hipsters and high priests of haute cuisine.

Last week, though, there was only adulation as this little fishing village, 15 miles south of Aberdeen, awoke to the news that it had been rewarded for offering the best food experience in the UK. The Bay fish and chip shop, overlooking a handsome little North Sea inlet, appears at the top of the UK’s entries in the Lonely Planet’s new collection of the world’s best food experiences.

Like many Glaswegians I never require to be asked twice when a fish supper is being offered, and a trip north to Stonehaven to sample one on a rocky northern shore seemed like the perfect Saturday. In Glasgow, a fish supper worth its salt and vinegar must pass the Jack McPhee and Blue Lagoon test, these being the midnight fish emporiums of choice for the city’s demi-monde.

You approach the Bay chippie past neat little sea-front apartments and a leisure area full of children sampling the last days of freedom before the start of the Scottish school term. Unlike the Carron, its delinquent older cousin which trumpets Chucky the Mars bar with a big brassy banner, the Bay is discreet and restrained.

Only the queue, 20-strong and beginning at the door, hints that you have entered the tabernacle of fish suppers; the Buckingham Palace of battered comestibles. For £7.30 a pop for its standard haddock and chips, much is expected, and the Bay’s battered repast doesn’t disappoint. You will not encounter a better souper de poisson than the Bay’s.

Being a seasoned connoisseur of deep-fried cuisine, I feel that many Scottish seaside towns have let their chippie standards drop in recent years. “Would sir like some fish with his batter?” would be a more appropriate question in some of these places where the search for the soft white stuff is like looking for a tadpole in a paddling pool: not here.

But at the Bay, every fold of the haddock is cooked to perfection. The batter, a sleek rusty sheath, doesn’t imprison it; rather it clings lightly to it like a shirt made of silk. The chips are big blousy frites which seem to rebuke you as you contemplate not finishing them.

The chips are made from Cambridgeshire potatoes and cooked in sunflower oil. For students of this sort of science, this might explain their fluffiness and a hue more brown and golden than the weed in a Turkish souk.

Being a devotee of healthy fare, I order a portion of deep-fried onion rings to go with the fish and chips and thus collect the first of my five-a-day. I’m pleased to see that portions of coleslaw are also offered along with fritters made of a healthy-sounding product called chickpea.

The Lonely Planet guide is effusive in its praise for the Bay’s fish supper. “Considering the setting, the sustainability and the beautifully cooked fish, is [the Bay] the best fish and chip shop in the world? The constant queue suggests so,” it says.

On my way north on the A90, I stopped to purchase the Scotsman for the purposes of providing an old-fashioned swaddling for my fish supper. I needn’t have bothered; the little brown box sheltering my fish and chips is aesthetically pleasing. Significantly, only a thin film of grease remains at the end, and not the thick white coagulation that usually begins to form when you’re down to the wee crusty ones.

The fish supper is sealed with a sticker proclaiming that this is “certifiable sustainable seafood”, the kitemark of the Marine Stewardship Council, and a tapestry of awards festoon the walls that tell you that not only is this a high-quality shop but that its fryers and cooks are masters of their craft. Astonishingly, some of the Scots and English customers beside me insist on burgers and smoked sausages. It’s like ordering a bottle of Thunderbird with your stuffed pork tenderloin.

Outside, a table of Japanese schoolgirls is momentary rendered silent as they savour the new world-class taste of Scotland. There are smiles and thumbs-up when I ask what they think of the food so far. “It was worth the journey,” I’m told.

• This article was amended on 20 August 2018. The fish in the supper was haddock not cod.

The right bites

Here are Lonely Planet’s top 10 food experiences. The Bay is at no 31.

1 Pintxos in San Sebastián These tiny bites can be savoured while bar-hopping through the Spanish city.

2 Curry laksa in Kuala Lumpur Vibrant curry mix combined with coconut milk, noodles and garnishes.

3 Sushi in Tokyo Sukiyabashi Jiro or Sushi Saito might be the best places to enjoy it, but the queues are a snag.

4 Beef brisket in Texas The four-hour queue at the Franklin Barbecue in Austin is worth the wait.

5 Som tum salad in Bangkok The sweet, salty and fiery-green papaya salad is sold by street vendors.

6 Smørrebrød in Copenhagen It’s not just bread with toppings: there are rules that make it exceptional. Start with the herring slice, other fish, then meat, and finish with cheese.

7 Crayfish on the New Zealand coast The town of Kaikoura offers the best crayfish, from seafood vans up and down the coastline. The best and the oldest is Nin’s Bin.

8 Bibimbap in South Korea Offered in two styles: Jeonju in a cold bowl, and dolsot in a very hot one.

9 Margherita pizza in Naples The oldest place serving the delectable and fresh pizza is Di Matteo.

10 Dim sum in Hong Kong Go for a Michelin-starred establishment like Duddell’s or Fook Lam Moon to savour the dumplings with a twist.