Midnight in the Garden of Good and Veal

I signed up for this trip expecting mainly lobster and foie. Truth is, I didn't eat that much of the former (despite all the photos, I ordered it twice; the rest was Karen). What surprised me was my renewed love of oysters and the ubiquity of veal.

Pictured is the latest: bee wax poached sweetbreads. Not that I'm keeping score, but I am. Of the six remarkable meals we've had:

Eventide: oysters
Grace: oysters and foie
Primo: oysters and veal heart tartare
Légende: oysters and foie
Laurie Raphael: veal tenderloin tartare
Laloux: foie and veal sweetbreads
(Many other oysters gave it up for the cause along the way; they make for a delightful afternoon snack.)

I count at least five dozen oysters and the heart, loin, and thymus glands of a baby cow--or, more accurately, three different baby cows. Am I a bad person? Is evil still evil if it's delicious? My understanding is they were happy, frolicking little calves until I ate them. Doesn't that count for something? And what of the humble oyster? No one puts their likeness on a protest sign. Of course, scaling up an image of an oyster to 36x48 would be pretty gross, and wouldn't win your cause any support. Is the cute and cuddly held in higher esteem than something that looks like a snot?

Anyway, I've been sleeping really well.