Christmas squid, anyone? Funny, the sailor boy here was alone in craving pots of pickled blech. It's very Italian. I remember the horror of seeing one taking up residence in our kitchen sink. A squid, not a sailor, but that would have been fun.
It was a minor trauma when I was a kid, seeing that tennacled lump lounging in the same sink that strained our pasta.
But Grandpa said I didn't havea to eed it. At least I think that's what he said, and nobody smacked me or called me some kind of vegetable when I backed away slowly.
Another myth dispelled: A dead squid will not come to life and spray you with poison ink if you lean in too close. And you're a big baby if you don't lean in too close.