Oxtail is the dish people judge a Jamaican kitchen by, and there is nowhere to hide with it. It takes hours it cannot be talked out of.
The pieces go into a hot pot first and stay there until they take real colour. That crust is not cosmetic. Everything stuck to the bottom of that pot becomes the base of the gravy, and a pot that skips this step produces a stew that is brown in colour and thin in taste.
Low and covered, with thyme, allspice, garlic and a whole scotch bonnet dropped in and left unburst so it gives perfume without heat. Oxtail is mostly connective tissue, and only time turns that into the gelatin that makes the gravy cling to a spoon. There is no shortcut and anybody selling you one is selling you tough oxtail.
Near the end, so they hold their shape instead of collapsing into the sauce. They soak up the gravy and give you something soft to eat between the meat, which is exactly what the plate needs by then.
This is not a preference. Half the pleasure of oxtail is the gravy, and rice and peas is the thing engineered to carry it. Order them together, spoon the gravy over, and do not be shy about the bread.
There are two tails on an animal and the rest of the world worked out what Caribbean kitchens always knew, so oxtail went from an offcut nobody wanted to one of the dearest things on the board. On top of that it is mostly bone, and hours of braising cook a lot of the weight away. The price is the meat, not a markup.
Shared kitchen, grill and fryer. Labels say what a dish contains, never what it is free of. Call (646) 603-8665 about any allergy.
The full list is on the menu page.
Oxtails travels well, so it goes out for delivery across Queens and out by the tray for catering. The rest of the board is on the full menu.
