
A single wood-fired hearth, a menu that changes with the market, and a room built around the glow of the coals.
Reserve a tableEverything at Ember & Oak meets the flame. A single wood-fired hearth anchors the room, and the menu changes with whatever the fire and the market give us that week.
Sit close and watch the coals, or take the far banquette and let the smoke find you. Either way, dinner starts at the fire.
Tonight’s fire, plated three ways.



One fire, lit before the first delivery, feeding every station on the line.
Oak and almond, air dried for eighteen months in the yard behind the building.
Lit before the first delivery arrives and never allowed to go out until close.
No gas on the line at all. Everything is grilled, ember roasted, or buried in ash.
Whole vegetables go in overnight and come out for the next day menu.
Oak for heat, fruitwood for the finish. The fire is the pilot light of the whole kitchen and the center of the room.

Eight stools at the pass, close enough to feel the heat and watch every plate leave the fire.

“You taste the smoke in everything, and you never want it to stop.”
Everything meets the flame, nothing meets a gas ring.
The menu changes with whatever came in this morning.
Sit at the counter and watch the whole thing happen an arm away.




A short line, all of it within arm reach of the fire.
Learned fire cooking in Piedmont, then spent a decade getting it wrong before this room.
Runs the coals, and has opinions about oak he will share unprompted.
Bakes in the falling heat after service, which is why the bread tastes like that.
Front of house, the wine list, and the person who finds you a table.
Counter seats go two weeks out. We hold a few for walk-ins.
A short a la carte plus a chef tasting at the counter.
Tell us when you book and we will build around it.
Street parking after 6, and a lot two doors down.