You've probably already guessed what happened from the title.
Mark and I went out to Atmosphere, a French restaurant in some very mature neighborhood down towards Piedmont Park.
For reasons unknown, we were both feeling food adventurous, and the menu was chock full of interesting dishes. Pied du Chochon? Foie Gras? Escargot? Foie de Veau? Pate? You got it.
I figure if there's ever a safe, sure-to-please place to eat some semi-exotic (read: not muscle meat) animal part, it's got to be at an up-scale, slightly expensive French restaurant.
I don't want to try discount liver.
Dang it, I gave it away. Yes, on Day 156, I ate veal liver.
It was delightfully meat-like with the beefiness of a steak, but also rich, rich, RICH in the way that foie gras over-exaggerates. It's just a tender, tasty, almost too velvet-y cut of meat that was appropriate for one night in a nice French restaurant.
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