IN SEPTEMBER, I had dinner at Marché, Stephanie Pearl Kimmel's acclaimed restaurant in Eugene, Ore. My salad contained chanterelle mushrooms gathered from the nearby hills, and the vegetables surrounding my grass-fed steak were organically grown. The menu also included pan-seared foie gras with organic peaches. Was the fatted duck liver out of step with the rest of this conscientious menu? Perhaps.

Chefs and gourmands appreciate foie gras because it has a unique texture and flavor, and an interesting history that links it to artisanal forms of animal husbandry almost lost in today's industrialized world. Caramelized by pan searing or gently poached into a smooth pâté, it prompts rapture in its fans.

But while most high-end chefs and slow-food aficionados remain enamored of this foodstuff, a sea change may be under way.

Recent legislation signed into law by California Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger will ban the production or even preparation of foie gras in California by 2012. Fifteen countries, including the United Kingdom, Israel and Schwarzenegger's native Austria, have already banned the practice of force feeding now required to produce the delicacy.

Now the same animal-rights activists who led the drive to ban foie gras in California are putting pressure on New York lawmakers to abolish the practice there. And they're trying to reach chefs in other parts of the country, including the Pacific Northwest. Portland restaurateur Greg Higgins, renowned for his support of sustainable fisheries and farming practices, reluctantly removed foie gras from his menu just last month.

"Activists targeted my restaurant and about a half a dozen others here in Portland," says Higgins. "First they mailed us videos, then they hit us with a pretty aggressive e-mail campaign. But an aggressive approach breeds an aggressive response. Even though I would never condone cruelty to animals, I resisted because they were so hostile. I wanted to talk about it. It was only when I tuned them out and internalized the issue that I was able to come to a rational decision."

Higgins' introduction to foie gras came early in his career when he worked at a restaurant in Alsaçe, France. There, he met a woman who raised geese to supply foie gras for the restaurant. "When it came time to feed the geese," recalls Higgins, "they came to her and she fed them. Those were not unhappy animals. But I realize now that the industrialized farming practiced in the United States is pretty far removed from the idealized foie gras farm I saw in France."

Pat McCarthy, who sells foie gras at De Laurenti Specialty Foods in the Pike Place Market, had a similar experience in Spain. "I have seen the ducks being fed, and it did not seem cruel. I don't know what a duck feels; I don't know if a duck feels. I mean, it's a duck; how big is its brain?"

"My hunch," says veterinarian Elliot Katz, president and founder of the Mill Valley-based organization In Defense of Animals, "is that the duck feels plenty. I think that perhaps it's time for this practice to end. We're a society that tolerates only a certain level of animal cruelty. We approve of cattle being slaughtered for beef, but we insist that they be stunned first.

"In years past, we've banned dog fights and cock fights. Just because something has been done for centuries doesn't mean it should go on forever. If this is strictly for people's pleasure, and it causes unnecessary suffering, then we should make it stop."

The issue came to Katz's attention when activists Brian Peace and Kath Rogers, calling themselves the Animal Protection and Rescue League, "rescued" four ducks from Sonoma Foie Gras farm, the source of the foie gras served at Marché and many other restaurants.

Sonoma Foie Gras founder Guillermo Gonzalez is one of only two American producers of foie gras (the other is Hudson Valley Foie Gras in New York). "In spite of a year of scandal, vandalism and legislative action," he says, "the fingers of one hand are too many to count the number of chefs and restaurants who have stopped serving foie gras."

But that may change. During one raid, the rescue league videotaped birds too bloated and sick to move even while rats were attacking them. This disturbing tape was aired on a San Francisco ABC news affiliate, where it provoked considerable outrage and the attention of Katz. Together, the two groups sued Gonzalez, alleging he was violating California laws against cruelty to animals. They also prompted state Sen. John Burton, a Democrat from San Francisco, to sponsor the ban bill.

Meanwhile, Gonzalez' business, his home and the homes of his business partners were vandalized. Videos of Gonzalez' business partner, chef Laurent Manrique, at home with his children were sent to him anonymously, leaving him feeling threatened.

Actions like these alienated some of the group's potential support. Michael Batterberry, founding editor of the country's premier restaurant-trade magazine, Food Arts, was appalled, "not with the activists' agenda but with their tactics. What they did to Laurent Manrique was inexcusable," he said.

Still, by the time the controversial bill was signed, Gonzalez was actually in favor of it. "It stipulates that until the law goes into effect, there will be no more lawsuits," he said. "Maybe I will be able to continue doing what I do for a few years without any more harassment." Since it does not go into effect until 2012, the prohibition affords Gonzalez and any other would-be foie gras producers seven years to "evolve and perfect a humane way for a duck to consume grain to increase the size of its liver through natural processes."

Foie gras aficionados think the fattened livers of ducks and geese are something of a natural phenomenon. "Just before they take off on long flights, migratory birds gorge themselves," says Batterberry, citing a familiar refrain.

"In nature," protests Katz, "the livers may double, but they would never grow to 10 times their natural size. With livers at these proportions, the birds would not be able to take off; they can't even stand up."

Regardless of how they feel about animal rights, many chefs and diners resent being told what they can cook and eat.

"If we're being told to avoid foie gras today," muses Seattle chef and restaurant owner Tom Douglas, "is it going to be the whole duck tomorrow? I think it's up to each one of us to decide what we're going to eat and not tell anyone else what to do."

Deba Wegner , Seattle-area coordinator for the Washington Restaurant Association says about a dozen area restaurant owners serve foie gras, "mostly on special occasion menus."

To be sure, "foie gras is a luxury," Gonzalez concedes — a very expensive one. "There are issues of culture, philosophy, economics, biology, anatomy, you name it; it is a complicated issue." But, he adds, "I am very comfortable in defending what I do."

Whether or not chefs and diners will continue to be comfortable remains to be seen. Activists are planning a round of protests in front of strategic restaurants all over the country. "I think when people see what's happening," says Katz, "they'll think twice before ordering foie gras."

Greg Atkinson is a contributing editor for Food Arts magazine and a culinary consultant. He can be reached at greg@northwestessentials.com.