How-To Guides

How to Cook Rib of Beef

What is a Rib of Beef?

How to Cook Rib of Beef: Rib of beef is a traditional British roasting joint, often served as the centrepiece for Christmas dinner or a celebratory Sunday roast. Taken from the primal rib section, this cut is also known as a standing rib roast or prime rib. It is rich, marbled and incredibly flavourful.

Roasted on the bone, the large fat cap bastes the meat as it cooks, locking in moisture for a juicy, tender result. The outer fat crisps up beautifully, forming a golden crust that enhances the succulence of the roast beef beneath. Whether you are cooking rib of beef for a festive meal or special occasion, it is a classic choice that never fails to impress.

Roast Rib of Beef Cooking Time

  • Begin with a quick blast in a hot oven for 15 minutes. This initial heat kickstarts caramelisation and browning on the surface. Then roast at a more moderate 145 to 170 °C (depending on your oven), allowing approximately 20 minutes per 500 g for medium-rare doneness. If you prefer your rib closer to rare or medium, simply reduce or increase cooking time by about 4 to 5 minutes per 500 g.
  • For a tender, evenly cooked joint, slow roasting (also known as low and slow) is an excellent method. It typically takes a minimum of four hours, depending on joint size.
  • Always rely on a meat thermometer for precision. Aim for 49 to 51 °C for rare, 53 to 55 °C for medium-rare, and 57 to 59 °C for medium. This ensures a juicy, perfectly cooked rib of beef.

Best Way to Cook a Rib of Beef

Traditional Roasting

A time-tested method that begins with high heat to develop a deep, flavoursome crust, followed by gentler roasting to cook the meat through. Ideal for those who enjoy a classic roast with bold, caramelised edges. A meat thermometer is still recommended for precision.

  1. Remove your rib of beef from the vacuum packaging and pat it dry with kitchen paper. Allow it to come up to room temperature.
  2. Preheat the oven to 220ºC / Fan 200ºC.
  3. Rub a little oil into the joint to help the seasoning adhere, then generously season with freshly ground black pepper and good-quality sea salt. For added depth of flavour and a beautiful golden crust, rub the external fat with a little English mustard powder.
  4. Arrange a trivet of beef bones and roughly chopped onion, carrot, and celery in a heavy, good-quality roasting tray. Place the beef on top.
  5. Roast for 15 minutes at the high heat, then reduce the oven to 145ºC / Fan. From this point on, cook according to your preferred level of doneness (see timing guide below), basting the joint occasionally as it roasts.
  6. Check the internal temperature to ensure it’s cooked to your liking before removing from the oven. Rest the beef uncovered for 10 minutes, then loosely cover with foil and allow to rest for at least another hour. This helps the juices redistribute evenly throughout the meat.
  7. A Proper Gravy: Place the roasting tray on the hob over a medium heat. Scrape up all the browned bits from the base, then add around 500ml of good-quality beef or chicken stock. Reduce to your desired consistency, then strain off the bones and vegetables. For a final flourish, whisk in a knob of cold butter to give the gravy a rich gloss.
  8. When ready to carve, slice the meat away from the bone. Our rib of beef is chined, making carving straightforward.

Low Temperature Roasting

This technique delivers exceptionally even cooking and a more succulent result than traditional high-heat roasting. When preparing a larger joint like prime rib, especially using this method, a meat thermometer is essential to ensure perfect doneness throughout.

  1. Remove your rib of beef from the vacuum packaging and pat away any surface moisture. Allow it to come up to room temperature.
  2. Set your oven to 65ºC. This is a very low temperature, and if using a gas cooker, the pilot light may be sufficient. The technique still works at slightly higher temperatures if needed, though timings will vary.
  3. Rub the beef with a little oil and season generously with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper.
  4. Depending on the size of the joint, roasting will take a minimum of 5–6 hours. Use a meat thermometer to monitor internal temperature: aim for 49–51ºC for rare, 53–55ºC for medium-rare, and 57–59ºC for medium.
  5. Once your target temperature is reached, remove the joint from the oven and rest for 20–30 minutes, loosely covered in foil. You can complete this stage up to an hour before serving.
  6. Ten minutes before you’re ready to serve, return the beef to the oven at its highest setting. Roast for 10–12 minutes, until the exterior is well caramelised. This final blast enhances the crust without overcooking the centre.
  7. Carve against the grain into thin slices, around ½ to ¾ inch thick.

Top Tips for Perfect Roast Beef

  • Allow plenty of time for your rib of beef to come up to room temperature before cooking. This is crucial for a large joint, especially when roasting on the bone, as it promotes even cooking throughout.
  • To check for doneness, particularly if you’re aiming for beautifully pink, medium-rare meat, insert a skewer into the thickest part of the joint and leave it in place for 10 seconds. Remove the skewer and gently touch it to the inside of your wrist. It should feel warm for medium-rare.
  • Resting is just as important as roasting. Once out of the oven, the residual heat needs time to evenly distribute through the meat, while the muscle fibres have a chance to relax. Rushing this stage can result in uneven texture and lost juices. Give it the time it deserves for a truly exceptional roast.

Roast Rib of Beef Recipe

For a standout alternative to the traditional roast dinner, try George Ryle’s Roast Rib of Beef with Parmesan Cream Baked Onions. This elegant, flavour-packed dish pairs perfectly cooked beef with rich, savoury onions and a sharp watercress salad — a combination full of confidence and sophistication.

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Instagram

  • Do you love bacon?

Here’s our in house science and history teacher, @grylos, talking osmosis, salt, and the slow work of dry curing bacon.
  • Burns Night, 25 January.

Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns.
Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures.

A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork.
A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice.

Food for a cold night.
  • On many a recipe, the instruction ‘brown your mince’ is set out plainly enough. And yet, deep into January, when slow cooking is very much back on the table and recipes keep asking for the same thing, it feels worth saying that this is meant quite literally. Brown your mince. It does not say grey it.

Browning is a process, not a gesture. It takes time, heat, and a little patience, and what you are doing is building flavour, not simply warming meat through. When mince is rushed, crowded into the pan, stirred too soon, it stews. It turns grey. The moisture stays put and the flavour never quite arrives.

So here is @grylos , taking a moment to explain the difference, and to remind you that if you want the most from good produce, you have to let it work. Give it space. Leave it alone long enough to colour properly. Let it smell right before you move on.

Because this is slow food month, after all. There is no need to hurry. Take your time, do it properly, and you will taste the difference in the finished dish.
  • Winter. It felt strange being in Yorkshire, watching the news from the south where snow lay thick and sudden, while here January had arrived quietly, cold and wet, but not yet truly winter as we know it. Up here the season has always moved at a slower pace, and there is something steadying in remembering that. The idea that we should charge straight on after Christmas is a modern one, and it sits awkwardly with bodies and minds that are still tuned to pause, to take stock, to look back at the year just gone. 

Out on the farms, there is no rush but plenty to do. Some are already lambing, others preparing for it, working with the land rather than against it as the days begin, almost imperceptibly, to lengthen. The fields are still subdued, but there are signs, if you look closely, that life is beginning to stir again.

And so, it feels right, now and then, to slow everything down and simply notice Yorkshire in January, not as something to be endured, but as a quiet and beautiful part of the year in its own right.
  • Now the depths of winter descend. The excitement of Christmas has passed, but do not let that fool you. These months are still some of the best for eating roasted meats and leaning into deeper, newer flavour profiles.

Here is a traditional, and not so traditional, approach to our pork middle. We send a lot of our pork middles out to chefs, ready for them to stuff and roast in their own way, using both the loin and the belly. You will see plenty of porchetta on the market that uses just the belly. This is different. Using both cuts gives balance, structure, and allows the flavour of the pork itself to shine.

For our website, we also offer a less traditional version, stuffed simply with our fennel sausage meat. That brings seasoning right through the joint, and a little extra fat to help keep everything moist during a long, slow roast.

It is a brilliant cut to have, either as a roast or the following day, sliced cold for sandwiches.
  • Chef George Ryle @grylos, signing off the year with us.

A delicious Christmas ham glaze.
Nothing clever. Nothing rushed, but some useful tips. 

Thank you for watching, cooking along, and sticking with us this year.

Merry Christmas.
  • We like doing things properly. Smoking is one of them.
It is not sterile or shiny. But have you ever been to a smokehouse in Arbroath? If you have, you will know what this looks like. That black tar on the walls comes from years of smoke and years of meat. That is the point.

We still smoke food properly. Many do not. Much of what you see labelled as smoked has barely seen smoke at all. For us, that matters. Food done properly matters. It will matter even more in the years ahead.

So when you buy something from us and it says smoked, you know exactly what that means.
  • Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle.

They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land.

We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season.

This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year.

As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
Do you love bacon? Here’s our in house science and history teacher, @grylos, talking osmosis, salt, and the slow work of dry curing bacon.
1 day ago
2425
View on Instagram |
1/8
Burns Night, 25 January.

Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns.
Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures.

A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork.
A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice.

Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January.

Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns.
Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures.

A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork.
A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice.

Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January.

Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns.
Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures.

A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork.
A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice.

Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January.

Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns.
Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures.

A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork.
A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice.

Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January.

Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns.
Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures.

A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork.
A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice.

Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January.

Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns.
Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures.

A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork.
A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice.

Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January. Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns. Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures. A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork. A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice. Food for a cold night.
2 days ago
933
View on Instagram |
2/8
On many a recipe, the instruction ‘brown your mince’ is set out plainly enough. And yet, deep into January, when slow cooking is very much back on the table and recipes keep asking for the same thing, it feels worth saying that this is meant quite literally. Brown your mince. It does not say grey it. Browning is a process, not a gesture. It takes time, heat, and a little patience, and what you are doing is building flavour, not simply warming meat through. When mince is rushed, crowded into the pan, stirred too soon, it stews. It turns grey. The moisture stays put and the flavour never quite arrives. So here is @grylos , taking a moment to explain the difference, and to remind you that if you want the most from good produce, you have to let it work. Give it space. Leave it alone long enough to colour properly. Let it smell right before you move on. Because this is slow food month, after all. There is no need to hurry. Take your time, do it properly, and you will taste the difference in the finished dish.
1 week ago
2667
View on Instagram |
3/8
Winter. It felt strange being in Yorkshire, watching the news from the south where snow lay thick and sudden, while here January had arrived quietly, cold and wet, but not yet truly winter as we know it. Up here the season has always moved at a slower pace, and there is something steadying in remembering that. The idea that we should charge straight on after Christmas is a modern one, and it sits awkwardly with bodies and minds that are still tuned to pause, to take stock, to look back at the year just gone. 

Out on the farms, there is no rush but plenty to do. Some are already lambing, others preparing for it, working with the land rather than against it as the days begin, almost imperceptibly, to lengthen. The fields are still subdued, but there are signs, if you look closely, that life is beginning to stir again.

And so, it feels right, now and then, to slow everything down and simply notice Yorkshire in January, not as something to be endured, but as a quiet and beautiful part of the year in its own right.
Winter. It felt strange being in Yorkshire, watching the news from the south where snow lay thick and sudden, while here January had arrived quietly, cold and wet, but not yet truly winter as we know it. Up here the season has always moved at a slower pace, and there is something steadying in remembering that. The idea that we should charge straight on after Christmas is a modern one, and it sits awkwardly with bodies and minds that are still tuned to pause, to take stock, to look back at the year just gone. 

Out on the farms, there is no rush but plenty to do. Some are already lambing, others preparing for it, working with the land rather than against it as the days begin, almost imperceptibly, to lengthen. The fields are still subdued, but there are signs, if you look closely, that life is beginning to stir again.

And so, it feels right, now and then, to slow everything down and simply notice Yorkshire in January, not as something to be endured, but as a quiet and beautiful part of the year in its own right.
Winter. It felt strange being in Yorkshire, watching the news from the south where snow lay thick and sudden, while here January had arrived quietly, cold and wet, but not yet truly winter as we know it. Up here the season has always moved at a slower pace, and there is something steadying in remembering that. The idea that we should charge straight on after Christmas is a modern one, and it sits awkwardly with bodies and minds that are still tuned to pause, to take stock, to look back at the year just gone. 

Out on the farms, there is no rush but plenty to do. Some are already lambing, others preparing for it, working with the land rather than against it as the days begin, almost imperceptibly, to lengthen. The fields are still subdued, but there are signs, if you look closely, that life is beginning to stir again.

And so, it feels right, now and then, to slow everything down and simply notice Yorkshire in January, not as something to be endured, but as a quiet and beautiful part of the year in its own right.
Winter. It felt strange being in Yorkshire, watching the news from the south where snow lay thick and sudden, while here January had arrived quietly, cold and wet, but not yet truly winter as we know it. Up here the season has always moved at a slower pace, and there is something steadying in remembering that. The idea that we should charge straight on after Christmas is a modern one, and it sits awkwardly with bodies and minds that are still tuned to pause, to take stock, to look back at the year just gone. Out on the farms, there is no rush but plenty to do. Some are already lambing, others preparing for it, working with the land rather than against it as the days begin, almost imperceptibly, to lengthen. The fields are still subdued, but there are signs, if you look closely, that life is beginning to stir again. And so, it feels right, now and then, to slow everything down and simply notice Yorkshire in January, not as something to be endured, but as a quiet and beautiful part of the year in its own right.
2 weeks ago
672
View on Instagram |
4/8
Now the depths of winter descend. The excitement of Christmas has passed, but do not let that fool you. These months are still some of the best for eating roasted meats and leaning into deeper, newer flavour profiles. Here is a traditional, and not so traditional, approach to our pork middle. We send a lot of our pork middles out to chefs, ready for them to stuff and roast in their own way, using both the loin and the belly. You will see plenty of porchetta on the market that uses just the belly. This is different. Using both cuts gives balance, structure, and allows the flavour of the pork itself to shine. For our website, we also offer a less traditional version, stuffed simply with our fennel sausage meat. That brings seasoning right through the joint, and a little extra fat to help keep everything moist during a long, slow roast. It is a brilliant cut to have, either as a roast or the following day, sliced cold for sandwiches.
3 weeks ago
1371
View on Instagram |
5/8
Chef George Ryle @grylos, signing off the year with us. A delicious Christmas ham glaze. Nothing clever. Nothing rushed, but some useful tips. Thank you for watching, cooking along, and sticking with us this year. Merry Christmas.
1 month ago
1,30530
View on Instagram |
6/8
We like doing things properly. Smoking is one of them. It is not sterile or shiny. But have you ever been to a smokehouse in Arbroath? If you have, you will know what this looks like. That black tar on the walls comes from years of smoke and years of meat. That is the point. We still smoke food properly. Many do not. Much of what you see labelled as smoked has barely seen smoke at all. For us, that matters. Food done properly matters. It will matter even more in the years ahead. So when you buy something from us and it says smoked, you know exactly what that means.
1 month ago
36917
View on Instagram |
7/8
Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle.

They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land.

We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season.

This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year.

As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle.

They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land.

We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season.

This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year.

As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle.

They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land.

We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season.

This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year.

As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle.

They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land.

We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season.

This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year.

As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle.

They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land.

We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season.

This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year.

As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle.

They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land.

We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season.

This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year.

As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle. They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land. We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season. This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year. As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.
1 month ago
1081
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