Ibai

If society was to revive use of the pillory, the medieval device designed for ‘punishment by public humiliation’, one of its primary uses would be for the foodie who has yet to visit the Basque Country. Confess to such negligence in certain circles and be met with a spectrum of reactions, from raised eyebrow to pity, disdain to ostracism; a fraud has been unmasked.

There is no better place for fellow phonies to contemplate their shame than Ibai. A steak destination in the mould of institutions like Casa Julian and Bar Nestor, it was opened in 2024 as a place to showcase both the best Spanish beef and the culinary splendour of the French Basque country. Nemanja Borjanović is co-founder and the man behind the cow on the menu, a beef importer of such renown that either by design or reputation he is known as ‘Mr Txuleta’, like a fixer in a Tarantino film.

Txuleta is the Basque word for chop or steak. Legend has it that local farmers used to arrive at the region’s cider houses armed with txuletak to exchange for drinks at tasting sessions and, as the events grew in popularity, some of the beef would be cooked over charcoal for attendees. A tradition was born.

Today, the beef associated with the area is from Galician Blond or ex-dairy cows, animals that are farmed until the aged of eight, rather than the two or three years typical for most other breeds reared for meat. The extra years help to create big, buttery coatings of yellow fat, intense marbling and a distinct, intense flavour.

Ibai sits between Smithfield Market and St. Pauls on the site of what was previously Lino, a restaurant seen off by the pandemic, and, before that, a flooring factory. The current incumbents have left some of Lino’s design choices unchanged, so the industrial aesthetic, including exposed ducting, bare brick walls and raw concrete ceiling, remains. It might sound a little outdated but it serves as a timely reminder that there is an alternative to emerald green leather, brass fittings and herringbone flooring.

An evening at Ibai takes vicious shark bites out of all but the biggest bank balances, so the clientele is generally a mix of polished couples in designer clobber and gaggles of men in shirts from Charles Tyrwhitt loudly yukking at finance-related anecdotes. Get to your table, perhaps with blinkers on, and proceed with what matters.

To that end, and a moral obligation for all diners, is the Croque Ibai. There may not be a more desirable starter-sized plate of food on a menu in London, either now or ever. What is essentially a quartered toastie containing carabinero prawn, boudin noir and Tomme de Brebis cheese glazed with honey and Espelette pepper delivers one of those rare, truly pupil-dilating mouthfuls from what seems like an unlikely combination of ingredients. The prawn is almost sweet, the boudin noir profoundly savoury but with an almost buttery texture, the melted cheese slightly nutty, all operating between the contrasting crisp of spiced toast. And lo, it comes to pass that the word 'enrapturing' is accurately employed to describe a toasted sandwich.

A tower of crisps draped with five-year old Iberico ham and topped with smoked guindillas is another savoury, moreish snack defined by the quality of the components. There’s a range of other candidates to consider on the list of starters, such as a plate of carabinero prawn tartare, and Cantabrian anchovies in olive oil, but the common thread is the flawless quality of the ingredients. Many restaurants make hackneyed statements about ‘letting the produce shine’ but few compete with Ibai when it comes to upholding the ideal. 

The open kitchen is dominated by a huge grill where flames roar and dance around the steaks, giving them a savoury crust that’s almost like tree bark when they’re removed for rest. Galician Blond is on the menu with Yorkshire Wagyu, Spanish Black Angus, plus other breeds as and when available, but the former is the outstanding variety, the meat possessing an extraordinary combination of supple texture and profound beefiness. Occasionally, a particularly special carcass will be offered as a one-off, with punters invited to select their cut from a butcher’s block next to the kitchen - when they’re gone, they’re gone. Burgundy slabs of steak with thick bands of custard-coloured fat meet interested diners there, emitting an almost cheesy funk and glistening like jewellery, with price tags to match. Expense notwithstanding, this must the best beef in the world.

Meat of such quality ought to be savoured without interference. The trend for serving steaks drenched in jus is not one to be celebrated and Ibai’s head chef, Richard Foster, previously of Chiltern Firehouse, has thankfully not participated. However, the anchovy and herb salsa is so good that an opportunity to eat it must somehow be engineered, as an accompaniment for the French fries cooked in beef dripping, for example, while a tomato and shallot salad provides some contrasting acid to all the smoky richness.

Hugh Jones is the affable, unpretentious head sommelier who has compiled a list that features some famous names and, more interestingly, older vintages (it is a bit weird that there’s such a keen interest in whether a wine is good enough to age when so much of it is drank on release anyway). 2005 Roda 1 is incredibly fresh while showing all the integration and complexity of two decades’ worth of age but is offered at a relatively tiny markup. There are plenty of other older wines from prestigious regions in France, Italy and Spain that fit into the same category; not cheap but great value. ‘One of our aims is to ensure the wine, especially in the higher reaches of the list, is well priced and enables people to indulge in some incredible bottles,’ Jones told me on the first of my several visits.

Ibai took seventh spot in the 2026 World's 101 Best Steak Restaurants, and to visit is to understand why. The provenance of the meat and its treatment in the kitchen are both irreproachable. The menu complements the quality of the steak, the produce sourced is of the highest quality across all dishes and there are several creations you’re unlikely to come across anywhere else.

Perhaps most important of all is the elemental quality to the cooking, one that engenders a visceral pleasure rather than one rooted in an admiration for technique or presentation. It’s a surprisingly rare sensation in the restaurant world but, presumably, a fundamental reason for the popularity of Basque cuisine. If you love good food and have never been to the region, London has its strongest demonstration yet as to exactly why you should.