All ink, no pens needed.
My second course at Paradiso Perduto was the dish for which I came to Venice: spaghetti in cuttlefish ink. Nothing, seriously, nothing, I have ever eaten before (and that includes all the crazy bull testicles and cow nerve I found in Rome) prepared me for this meal. All I knew is I’d be walking away with teeth as black as night. I didn’t know that the sauce would taste of the sea but be as creamy as melted brie. The cuttlefish itself is reminiscent of calamari, and the pasta, well, it was Italy. Not only would I gladly eat this again (and I did, in Spain, but as a squid ink paella), I’m wondering if Boston has a fish market that’ll sell me some of this stuff!