Bone-In Ribeye
Forty-day dry-aged, seared hard over glowing oak coals, finished in bone-marrow butter.
Wood-fire steakhouse. Cooked over live oak.
Forty-day dry-aged, seared hard over glowing oak coals, finished in bone-marrow butter.
Buried in the embers, crust of cracked pepper and grey salt, rested by the fire.
Twelve hours over hickory until it falls from the bone, glazed in charred-onion jus.
Ember & Oak began with a single question — what does dinner taste like when nothing stands between the meat and the flame? No gas, no shortcuts. Just live oak, salt, and the patience to let the coals do the talking.
A white oak came down in a Cascade windstorm. We hauled it home, split it, and let it season two winters in the rain — the wood that still feeds the hearth today.
We built the open fire by hand on Capitol Hill — firebrick, steel, and a grate that cranks up and down over the coals to chase the perfect char.
Forty covers a night, cooked entirely over embers, by invitation only. We learned the fire's moods — when to push it, when to wait.
The doors opened for good. Same fire, same oak, a few more seats at the counter — and a standing invitation to pull up close.
— Hana Reyes & the Ember & Oak crew
Dinner Tuesday through Sunday, from five o'clock. The chef's counter seats eight, facing the open hearth — booked two weeks out.