Ruyi Barbecue: Authenticity, grilled on your tabletop

By the time we walked in, the air already smelled promising — smoky, peppery with that faint sweetness that only comes from slow-grilled meat. Inside, the ambience was a beautiful recreation of traditional Chinese aesthetics. 

Ruyi claims to offer authentic Chinese barbecue. Usually, when a restaurant advertises "authenticity", I prepare myself for disappointment. But here, there were no gimmicks — no plastic dragons, no red lantern clichés. 

Dining at Ruyi is not a passive experience; you watch the food transform in front of you, smell the story as it unfolds, and taste it at its peak. 

The prices, admittedly, are on the higher side, but you are paying not just for food but for performance, the experience, interaction, anticipation, and the theatre of tabletop cooking. 

Skewers

We started with an assortment of skewers: beef, mutton, chicken skin, and chicken wings.

The beef was bold and juicy, the mutton slightly gamey but full of character. The chicken wings — coated in a thin layer An immersive dining ritual comes together at Ruyi Barbecue, where authentic Chinese flavours, tabletop cooking and indulgent cuts turn a simple meal into a sensory experience

of spice and caramelised at the edges — were so good they disappeared at a speed which would prompt Lalmohan Ganguly to proclaim, "Gone like hot kachoris." 

However, the chicken skin was truly surprising. Thin as parchment, crisp, and impossibly flavourful. It is the sort of snack you could eat mindlessly until you remember the words: "calorie count". 

Price: Tk100 to Tk160

Korean Beef Slice

Nothing had quite prepared me for the Korean Beef Slice. It looked deceptively simple — thin slices marinated with soy and spices — but the flavour was anything but. 

The moment it hit the grill, the air filled with a smoky sweetness, followed by that unmistakable scent of caramelising soy sauce and melting fat. When I finally took a bite, the meat practically dissolved on my tongue.

The first hit was savoury and slightly sweet, followed by a gentle kick of spice that bloomed slowly. It was a perfect balance between meaty depth and delicate heat — the kind of flavour that makes you close your eyes for a second. 

The tenderness was unreal, every slice folding apart like silk. The fat melted on the tongue like warm butter, coating each bite with richness without ever feeling heavy. I looked at our photographer; he nodded silently in agreement, too busy chewing to speak.

Price: Tk1,500

Butter Steak Grill 

Next came the Butter Steak Grill, and the anticipation at our table was unmistakable.

The butter sizzled and hissed as it melted across the hot grill, releasing that irresistible aroma of garlic and fat. Each side of the steak browned slowly, taking on a glossy crust that hinted at rich, good meatiness inside.

When I cut into it, the knife glided through effortlessly. The interior was soft, shimmering with melted butter. The first bite was pure indulgence — juicy and layered with garlic, salt and spices. 

The richness built with every mouthful, balanced by the slight char on the edges. It was the kind of dish that makes you pause mid-sentence, that demands silence and appreciation. 

Price: Tk2,000

Ribeye Plate 

The Ribeye Plate was a revelation of contrast — crisp sear outside, tender chew on the inside. It was fiery and rich, the chilli sneaking up slowly, leaving a slow, steady burn that made you reach for the next bite anyway. 

The buttery coating softened the heat, rounding it into something indulgent rather than punishing. A little chewy, yes, but in a way that reminded you this was real meat — honest, hearty and full of character. 

Price: Tk1,380 

Wok Heu Charcoal Rice

For a break from all that meat, the Wok Hei Charcoal Rice arrived — a bowl of short-grain Chinese rice fried with beef cubes, egg and spring onion. 

It looked unassuming, but one whiff of that smoky aroma and I knew it meant business. The first bite made me pause. The grains were perfectly separated yet clung together with a glossy sheen, each carrying that elusive wok hei — the breath of the wok that chefs spend lifetimes chasing.

The beef cubes were small but punchy, tender morsels bursting with flavour, while the scrambled egg gave it a comforting softness. 

There was a light char running through the rice, an earthy smokiness that tied every spoonful together. It was hearty, slightly sticky, and deeply aromatic — the kind of dish that does not need attention but quietly steals the show. It was the perfect companion to everything sizzling on the grill.

Price: Tk400

Grilled Beef Bone Marrow

Then came the finale: Grilled Beef Bone Marrow. I have had bone marrow before, but Ruyi's version felt almost ceremonial. The texture was pure decadence — velvety, smooth and impossibly rich. 

It coated the mouth in waves of umami, with a sweetness that only slow-grilled fat can deliver. The faint smokiness from the grill elevated it beyond comfort food into something primal and elegant at once. If flavour had a definition, this would be it — sumptuous, lingering, unforgettable.

Price: Tk300

As we stepped outside, the clouds were still there, heavy and unhurried. The faint smell of smoke clung to my shirt, a souvenir from the afternoon. It felt fitting — because good barbecue should leave a trace, something that stays with you long after you have left the table.