We began with that namesake dish: two, puffy fists of fryer-bronzed dough each filled, in our case, with thin, leathern strips of braised ox cheek, and then, chopped, grill-striped lobes of Orkney scallop in a dribble of rich, peanutty sauce. The latter was far more successful than the former (which I had imagined more as a kind of partially disrobed dumpling, seeping an oozy stew). But the thing about Akokomi’s akara is that each is more about the vehicle than the cargo. To bite into the heady, texturally springy warmth of one, rich with spice and a faint, elusive sourness, is to be thrilled and sated in a manner more readily associated with rucked bedsheets and the lighting of a cigarette.