A few years ago, I found myself in Marrakesh. As an intrepid culinary adventurer, I headed straight for Djemaa el Fna, the hectic square at the heart of Marrakesh. At night, the expanse is filled with dozens of vendors offering all manner of meats. Of course, I picked the most dubious carcasses: a sheep’s head and a soft, unctuous, flan-colored flesh that I later discovered was sheep mammary. Breast in show? Hardly. Read my queasy words at Food Republic.