Oxtail

Although I pity the image of the poor bovine with two bandages crisscrossed on his rump, unable to swat at pestering flies, I cannot stop eating the oxtail the Hungry Cat (1134 Chapala St., 884-4701) serves with grilled scallops, cauliflower, and curry in one of the odder, yet couldn’t-be-righter surf-and-turf plates. (Better yet, of late there’s been more oxtail in a serving.) Braised, it achieves deeply delicious hints of both spare ribs and marrow, a pleasing, essential meatiness. Set against the creamy scallop and its grilled char, the tail plays bassoon-ishly brilliant notes in a fully formed orchestra of flavor.