Ibai

Market discipline at the grill

The steak reaches the pass from charcoal, not pan. Head Chef Richard Foster runs the kitchen at Ibai in Farringdon, London, a Basque steakhouse built around fire, beef, and the supply habit that shaped the house. He came from Chiltern Firehouse, where high-volume fire-led cooking is the daily condition, and the room lets the day set the menu, a way of working that matters where the grill is visible and the product has little place to hide.

The house was founded in summer 2024 by Nemanja Borjanović and William Sheard, both from the meat supplier Txuleta, with Borjanović the beef specialist and Sheard running the wine. That division explains the cooking: sourcing decided before service, then restraint at the fire. The point is not excess for its own sake. It is the confidence to stop when the ingredient has given enough. At the bench, fire, fat, salt, and rest do the visible work, and the room opened quietly, without pop-ups or announcements to carry it.

Charcoal, aged beef, and the long rest

Ibai’s program centers on Galician blonde beef from retired dairy cows aged 8-12 years, dry-aged mainly, then cooked on a bespoke Basque multi-tiered charcoal grill. The steak ritual is given 45 minutes, moving through heat and rest rather than rushing toward the plate. That timing matters. It lets the kitchen build a dark crust, keep the center blushed, and hold the fat long enough for it to soften without losing the structure of the cut.

The menu keeps the format direct: à la carte, small plates, large steaks, rice dishes, sides, and desserts. Croque Ibai folds boudin noir, carabinero prawns, Tomme de Brebis, and honey into a pintxo that behaves like a starter and a statement of intent. King crab rice takes its depth from carabinero prawn bisque stock before the fire-grilled legs arrive on top. Le Noir de Bigorre ham and crisps, ember-roasted scallop, beef tartare with Espelette, Galician blonde rib, and turbot chop all sit within the same grammar: produce first, then smoke, then seasoning.

The room around the open kitchen

The room is airy and industrial, with exposed ducts, low light, and a clamorous buzz that makes the open grill feel less like theatre than station. The glow draws the eye because it is where the timing happens. Steaks wait, rice pans catch heat, scallops take the ember, and the pass gathers the work into sequence.

Service stays upscale casual, which suits the cooking. Nothing in the room asks the guest to whisper. The counter, the pass, and the grill carry the rhythm, and the wine program sits beside it with a curated list rather than a heavy lecture. Ibai is large in feel, lively in sound, and modern in finish, but the strongest texture is still practical: charcoal smoke, beef fat, hot metal, rested meat.

A Basque name in Smithfield light

Ibai opened in summer 2024 at 90 Bartholomew Close, between Smithfield Market and St Paul’s, with a name that means river in Basque. The address matters because the work does not borrow the language of the market lightly. It cooks as if supply, cut, and timing are the real architecture of the house. If the kitchen keeps its nerve, the dish to return to is still the Galician blonde rib.