Clash of the Surf and Turf: IBAI vs. Beast

When Basque‑inspired beef meets king‑crab royalty in the heart of London, surf and turf gets a headline‑grabbing remix. IBAI, located near St Paul’s but not far from Oxford Circus via a quick cab, and Beast on Chapel Place, just off Oxford Street, both deliver land‑and‑sea theatre, but only one nails the iconic rib‑eye‑on‑the‑bone with finesse.

IBAI: Basque Grill Meets Surf and Turf Showmanship

Ibai (pronounced “EE‑bye”) is tucked away in a lofty former warehouse, with a roaring oak grill at its centre and dark gothic wood interiors that evoke tactile luxury without pomp. The name means “river” in Basque, and the menu embraces surf and turf: grilled Galician‑blond rib‑eye on the bone, carabinero (red prawn) tartare, and the iconic Croque Ibai—a Basque‑buttery riff on American steak‑sandwich tradition.

The Steak

Order the rib‑eye on the bone—£130 / kg, about £95–£110 per steak. Aim for medium‑rare; the cooking takes around 45 minutes using a three‑stage charcoal grill and resting cage method, making arrival almost theatrical. When it arrives, it’s perfectly charred outside, gleaming pink within, with rich marbling, buttery sweetness, and a savory tang from ox fat that refuses to dry out.

A companion note of anchovy‑herb salsa or Ossau‑Iraty/black‑pepper sauce is transformative. Those seeking contrast should try the silky sweetcorn‑and‑black‑truffle chowder or the croque‑Ibai, which balances smoke, salt, and cheese in a dish that channels both lunch and nostalgia. Despite its price, diners leave enchanted by why Basque simplicity still ranks among London’s best meat experiences.

Ibai excels in dishes like carabinero tartare, plump prawns tossed lightly in citrus and olive oil, and the Croque Ibai, which MyLondon called “the cleverest sandwich London’s ever seen”. Desserts like hazelnut pain perdu and gateau Basque add polish. Price hovers £60–90pp excluding steak. Expect dozens of city‑professionals drawn to its communal table and roaring intimacy.

Beast: Seafood & Steaks With a Five-Star Afterburn

Just steps away, Beast has cornered the glamorous niche of steak‑and‑crab: each plate starts with a limp yet indulgent nod to seafood (think king‑crab legs, tuna tartare, scallops cushion) before the ribeye arrives to claim centre stage.

Despite its opulent styling, they’re known for candle‑lit deep booth graffiti‑wall interiors and cultishly low lighting. A rib‑eye from Beast doesn’t disappoint. According to reviews, the USDA rib‑eye is “insane… all dishes tasty, staff friendly and professional”. The typical “land and sea” formula is elevated with dramatic flair.

The Steak

The ribeye on the bone matches Ibai’s in size (~800g–1kg) and price (£125–£150 per steak), but Beast’s execution leans towards sleek hospitality and quick delivery, with the char and fat rendering well, though lacking the layered ageing textures of the Galician Blond cut. Its seasoning is classically pepper‑and‑sea salt, paired alongside buttery king‑crab claws and a red‑prawn or scallop carpaccio—creamy, umami‑rich, and balanced with citrus yuzu.

Norwegian king crab, wagyu tataki, and truffled sides like charred cabbage and wild mushroom succotash. Prices £120+pp including shared appetizers; steaks tumble straight off tableside warming trays. The staff embody poise pulled through heritage styling—an old‑school steak‑and‑lobster vibe updated for Instagram.

Face-off

The Verdict

If you want dramatic beefcraft and fire‑charged theatre, IBAI reigns.

Want a show of surface gloss, seafood expansion, and steakhouses bougie‑bird energy? Beast delivers.

In a straight up steak comparison, Ibai’s Galician Blond ribeye edges Beast’s American‑style cut for depth—but Beast wins for elegance, pace, and pairing slick surf with turf.

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5 Minute Challenge: The Arnolfini Portrait by Jan van Eyck

If you only look at one painting for five uninterrupted minutes this week, let it be Jan van Eyck’s The Arnolfini Portrait(c. 1434). Before reading any commentary, examine it quietly—and ask yourself:

• Who are these figures, and what is their relationship—to each other and to you, the viewer?

• What items have they placed in the room, and why?

• How does the light, texture, and small detail (dog, oranges, mirror) make you feel?

Now read on for revelations hidden in plain sight…

The convex mirror on the back wall reflects not only the couple, but also two additional figures—believed to be van Eyck himself and a witness—suggesting this is more legal contract than interior scene.

Look closely: the mirror’s ten roundels depict the Passion of Christ. Intriguingly, scenes of Christ’s life align near the husband’s side, while the two scenes of death and resurrection lie above the wife—implying a spiritual reference to mortality.

The small dog at the couple’s feet is a traditional symbol of fidelity, and most possibly a funerary reference if Costanza, Giovanni’s wife, died in childbirth.

Above Costanza’s head, the lit candle contrasts with an extinguished flame above Giovanni’s head—a detail believed to signify mortal presence and death symbolism.

The wooden chair carving behind her depicts St Margaret, patron saint of childbirth; technical analysis shows van Eyck added it after beginning the painting—perhaps an impromptu elegy on mortality.

This is more than a portrait—it’s a funerary portrait, a marriage contract, and a mercantile power transfer all in one. Once you see the painting’s subtle codes, it transforms from domestic interior into layered ceremony.

So next time you walk beneath the crowded frame at the National Gallery, give it five more minutes. It quietly rearranges how you think about image, subjectivity, and devotion.