Sometime during the late 70s I came home from high school and needed a snack to tide me over until dinner. I heated up a Swanson fried chicken TV dinner, and began to eat. There were two regular-sized pieces, and one smaller piece. Finished with one regular-sized piece, I picked up the smaller piece and broke off a bite-sized piece.
This small piece of fried chicken turned out to be a battered and fried chicken brain.
I simply threw it away and resumed my meal. It was repulsive, but kind of cool as well.
Nowadays the proper thing to do would be to first call the media, secondly call a lawyer and sue for several hundred thousand dollars worth of mental anguish, and spend the next few years in intensive therapy.
How do you know it was a brain?
I would think that would be very hard to identify.