01
Ojo de Bife
Ribeye, centre-cut
Age42d
Weight380g
Price$62
A thirty-seat parrilla in Palermo, lit by almost nothing. We cook eleven cuts a night over quebracho embers — salt, iron, silence. No sauces, no shortcuts.
Cortes argentinos, aged in our stone cellar between fourteen and fifty-two days. Cooked only over quebracho blanco. Salted once with sal gruesa.
Sirloin strip, bone-in. 420g. Grass-finished, salt-crusted, laid over embers of quebracho until the fat whispers.
Ribeye, centre-cut
Flank, slow-coal
Outside skirt, thin crust
Short rib, cross-cut
House-cured sausage
Sweetbreads, lemon & sal gruesa
Grilled provolone, oregano, chili
Our kitchen is a courtyard of slow things. Wood that seasons for three years. Coals that take forty-five minutes to settle. A rest that matches its cook. Scroll.
Quebracho blanco, split and stacked in the courtyard until its moisture drops below eight percent. We wait. Always, we wait.
When the flames die and the wood glows like a second sunset — 900°C at the core — we rake embers beneath the hierro.
Sal gruesa, nothing else. Meat is laid bone-side down for six minutes, turned once, salted again on the lid of its own crust.
Pulled from the grill and laid on warm ash-bone slate. Juices travel inward. The cut breathes for as long as it burned.
They arrive at three, split wood, rake embers and stay long after midnight. Nothing about this kitchen is fast, and that is the point.
“Fire has a memory. You learn it slowly.”
“I split the wood at dawn. The room still smells of last night.”
“The cut waits fifty-two days for six minutes of flame.”
“Salt is a kind of patience. Nothing else.”
Twelve covers a night, twice over. Writers, cooks, neighbours. A small diary of what they wrote on the way home.
“The room is lit by almost nothing — a single hanging lantern, the glow of the parrilla. You eat, and you understand what meat was before refrigeration.”
“I have eaten steak on three continents. Ember is the one meal I still think about when I cannot sleep.”
“They do not rush, they do not flourish. The bife de chorizo arrives unannounced and nearly burns your fingertips. It is, quietly, perfect.”
“A restaurant lit by candles and embers, run by people who still believe patience is a flavour. Utterly singular.”
Everything we answer on the phone, written down. If you need something unusual, write us. We will make a fire for you.
Our diary opens twenty-one days ahead at 09:00 ART. Book directly or write to reservas@ember.com.ar. We hold a small number of same-day walk-in seats at the iron bar each night.
Yes — Salón del Fuego seats up to fourteen at a single hardwood plank. It is lit by candle and a small dedicated parrilla. Minimum spend applies Thursday through Saturday.
Our sommelier Valentina curates a seven-glass pairing drawn almost entirely from small Mendoza and Patagonian producers. There is also an austere non-alcoholic pairing built on smoked teas and yerba.
We take tables up to eight in the main room. Above that, we open the full restaurant on Sundays for weddings, anniversaries and long dinners. Write to eventos@ember.com.ar.
Thirty seats. Two seatings: 20:00 and 22:30. Our diary opens twenty-one days in advance. We keep a small iron-bar list for walk-ins.