Ibiza Nights at Petunia

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There are dinners you remember for the food, and then there are dinners you remember for everything else—the view, the breeze, the way time seems to slow. Petunia, under the care of the Beaumier group, is exactly that kind of place: a terrace where Es Vedrà steals the spotlight, and every meal becomes a story you’ll want to tell again.

We go back to Petunia every year. It has become our tradition, a way to mark summer in Ibiza with something more than just a dinner—it’s a ritual, an excuse to sit still and let the island do its thing. Petunia has that effect: it’s not just a restaurant, it’s a stage where Es Vedrà plays the leading role. That enigmatic rock in the sea always feels alive, mysterious, like it’s watching you as you sip your cocktail.

This year was a little different. Petunia is now under the Beaumier group, and you can feel it. The space has been refreshed—like it just had a long exhale and a splash of cold water on its face. Brighter colors, small touches, everything more polished yet still in harmony with its surroundings. The vibe hasn’t changed though. It’s still laid-back, a little bohemian, but with enough elegance that you remember you’re not just anywhere—you’re in Ibiza.

The setting itself is half the story. You sit there with palm trees swaying, the garden alive with vibrant greens, and that open horizon in front of you. At first glance, it feels casual, but then the details sneak up on you—the way the lights glow just enough, the music drifts without demanding attention, the staff glide between tables with a kind of calm energy that makes you trust you’re in good hands. It’s the sort of place where you instantly relax, loosen your shoulders, and let the evening stretch out.

We arrived just in time for sunset. Not the dramatic postcard version—this one was shy, almost coy. The sky blushed slowly, turning from soft pinks to deeper reds, until it finally surrendered to night. A “blink and you’ll miss it” kind of sunset, but somehow those are the best. They don’t shout for your attention; they just tap you on the shoulder and remind you how lucky you are to be sitting there.

There was even a proposal at the table next to us. She said yes, of course. It was one of those moments you catch in the corner of your eye, and somehow it made the evening feel even more special—like the magic of Petunia spilled over into their story, too.

At La Mirada, the restaurant within Petunia, the menu is divided into moments—finger food, from the garden, and the raw bar. It sounds simple enough, but don’t let that fool you. We started light: fried eggplant with cane honey and salmorejo, a kimchi and pickles salad that had just the right kick, grilled leek with garlic sauce and ginger. Honest flavors, but with a little twist that makes you pause.

Then came the stars of the night. The steak tartare brioche with cured egg yolk and pickle relish—what a mouthful, literally and figuratively. Rich, indulgent, but perfectly balanced. The kind of dish that makes you close your eyes for a second after the first bite. And the wagyu tataki with plum vinaigrette and crispy potato? Let’s just say we ordered it twice, no shame. Even though the food was extraordinary, we believe the menu could be elevated further with a few thoughtful refinements—small details that would make an already wonderful experience even more remarkable.  

By the time the cocktails arrived, the sky was already a dramatic shade of red, the kind of color that makes you wonder if the horizon is bleeding into the sea. Our negronis matched it perfectly, bold and bittersweet. We lingered for hours, no phones on the table, just conversation, laughter, and the occasional “you have to try this” across the plates.

Petunia isn’t just dinner—it’s the evening itself. It’s the view, the flavors, the people who remember you from last year, the music you don’t recognize but hum anyway, the breeze that sneaks through the palm leaves. Under Beaumier’s care, it feels even more alive, more confident in what it already was: one of the most magical spots on the island.

And so we’ll keep going back. Year after year, to sit on that terrace, watch Es Vedrà glow in the distance, and let a simple dinner turn into a night that feels like a story worth retelling.