(“Select” spritz during sunset, Venice, 2025)

Odd, those projects that are started and never finished. In April I spent a day and a night in an authentic palazzo in Venice, Italy. Since I was already quite familiar with la Serenissima as the locals call it, I did not plan to visit any sights during those short 24 hours.  

Instead, I gave myself the vaguest goal: to spend a full day, from dawn to dusk, like a native Venetian (whatever that meant at the time): 

I should live, breathe, shop, eat, cook – and grumble – every one of the 86,400 seconds. The only condition? By sundown, I had to cook a classic Seppie al Nero (Venetian Black ink cuttlefish stew) from scratch at home and savor it alongside an Aperol spritz – another regional specialty. Finally, I needed to report on the outcome, whether an absolute success or a resounding failure. 

I promised to stick to local cuisine in this little piece, but as it happens more often than I’d like to admit, history got in the way. One cannot claim to be Venetian without diving into its past, and wearing it as a badge of honour. So I tried… And now, four months later, here I am, still obsessively piecing together Venice’s labyrinthine history and byzantine origin, devouring yet another book about its nearly two-millennia-long existence, rather than getting this forsaken recipe over with. 

(Golden mosaic from San Marco Basilica, Venice, 2025)

What was I expecting? To distill Venice with a capital “V” into 1,000 words only – a ratio of about 1 word for every 2 years of its history – on top of doing a cooking lesson? Jumping from “The lagoon city’s birth in the 5th century allegedly due to Attila’s attack on the Roman Empire” to “And now add your al-dente pappardelle with a Tbsp of pasta water in the pan”? To my disbelief, I did in fact write these thousand words back then, and made it as far as 6am that day, when Venetian merchants smuggled Saint Marc’s relics from Alexandria in the 9th century. At that rate, I would have gotten to the recipe by the hundred thousandth word – enough time to turn readers into relics themselves. 

Those were the other topics I optimistically tried to include in a 1000 words or so (retrieved directly from my first draft): 

• Venice’s dwindling population
• Mass tourism
• Italy Risorgimento’s independence movement
• Garibaldi (an unavoidable figure)
• King Victor Emmanuel II of Sardinia (fundamental to Italy’s unification)
• Marco Polo (at this point it’s just name-dropping, although he was indeed from the city)
• The Silk road and spices (a signature Venetian aromatic imports)
• Hong Kong’s chicken feet soup and century eggs (i kid you not)
• The bubonic plague waves and the invention of the “quarantina”
• The advent of Napoleon and the downfall of Venice (RIP ≃ 9th century AC – 1797)
• The Republic of Venice’s complex checks and balances preventing authoritarianism and hereditary regimes from taking root
• Donald Trump (a convenient parallel to the previous point)
• The horse statues stolen 4 times over and more well-travelled than you and I
• The origin of the word “spritz” and the invention of the region’s most famous export – aperol
• And its second most famous export: bad press coverage on overcrowding and the disneyfication of the city… 

All that interwoven with culinary history & trivia and the aforementioned cuttlefish stew recipe. There is no such a thing as “too much knowledge”, but this pushes the statement to its very limit. To cut the word count in half, and hide my chronic laziness under the guise of conciseness, I will end this protracted introduction abruptly, and jump to the recipe below.

(San Pantalon ceiling, Venice, 2025)

At last – Seppie al nero (for 6 hungry souls): 

Italy’s world-class culinary culture rests on two immovable pillars: Pristine ingredients and nonnas’ gatekeeping. Venice has both. The city abounds with centuries-old delis selling top-quality fresh & dried products, such as the famous Drogheria Màscari on the Ruga dei Spezieri (literally “Spice street”, a legacy from the Silk Road days). 

But for the delicacy we intend on cooking today, we need to head no further than 50 meters away to the Rialto market, a thousand years old and still offering the freshest ingredients imaginable.

(Left: Drogheria Màscari spice selection, Right: Rialto market vegetable stall, Venice, 2025)

Try to pass the tempting vegetable stalls and head straight for the fishmonger section. Any respectable display will feature fresh cuttlefish from the lagoon, in all sizes. Pick a large one. The only fresh products that you need are one large onion, four small tomatoes of your choice and a head of garlic. The northern Italy Seppie al nero usually do not have tomatoes, that is a southern twist, which I am absolutely embracing.  

(Rialto market fresh cuttlefish section, Venice, 2025)

When preparing cuttlefish, squid, or octopus, it is important to do one of two things to tenderize it: beat it or freeze it. So the first task is to prepare it in the morning, remove the bone and skin, cut it into bite size pieces, retrieve the ink pocket (if you or the fishmonger have pierced it already). I can say with confidence, there are few things messier than preparing a cuttlefish. You will surely splatter your kitchen black as I did, and spend as much time scrubbing the stains off the walls, ceiling and your face as you do cleaning the mollusc itself. Consider yourself warned, so set yourself up accordingly. Once this gruesome task is over, only one duty remains before your evening feast: preparing the pasta dough. 

Pasta dough, you say? With SEPPIE AL NERO? This is where my credibility as a Venetian shatters already. This stew is always served with white or yellow polenta, either as a dense brick or semi-liquid just denser than a velouté. Polenta is unctuous and versatile, but in the universe of Italian carbs, nothing beats fresh pappardelle pasta. “Heresy!” I can hear Venice’s 50,000 aging inhabitants screaming at me from afar. This won’t do it, tonight it will be Pappardelle al Nero. 

Henceforth, for those essentially oversized tagliatelle (roughly 3 times the width), you will need: 3 eggs, 300g of Type ‘00’ flour, water, salt, and a pinch of turmeric for that photogenic yellow tint.

In a bowl, whisk together the eggs, salt, turmeric and a dash of water until all combine until bright yellow. In another, make a well in the center of the flour then pour the liquid in it, and mix slowly with a fork until all combine, then put all the mixture on a counter top and start working the dough, to build up the gluten. 

It is a three-step process: first knead the dough for 10 minutes with the palm of your hands. When smooth, wrap it in cling film and let it rest at room temperature for 30 minutes. Next unwrap it, and go for a second round, but this time pounding it until your whole kitchen rattles (to build the pasta’s strength and bounce). You will not find any nonnas endorsing this part. I found it in an obscure Cantonese cookbook on egg noodles for Wonton soups: a technique that I have used ever since, much to my neighbour’s delight. 

Do that for about 6-8 minutes, then wrap it again and let it rest once more for another 30 minutes.     

Lastly, roll the pasta dough until it is thin enough to see your skin tone through. No rolling pin, you say? No worries, anything cylindrical will do with a bit of imagination: an olive oil/vinegar bottle, a spare wooden curtain rod in the closet or even a broom stick (do not ask how I know – necessity is the mother of innovation as the adage goes). Though my absolute favorite is a Bordeaux-shaped wine bottle, a staple in most households, despite my French bias. Finally, once rolled, cut it in the desired shape. To store, toss the pasta with extra flour in a wide tupperware and place it in a fridge for up to 2 days.  

This is the part where, after freezing the cuttlefish and preparing the pasta, I would have gone for a stroll through the city, describing in frenetic detail every piece of history hidden in the forgotten corners of the city. For your sake and mine, I decided to cut this part. Thus let’s skip ahead to the evening when I come back “home” and simmer the Al nero until it reaches that silky, glossy pitch-black finish. 

First, take the cuttlefish out of the freezer and let it thaw under running lukewarm water. In the meantime, prepare your ingredients near the stove along with a deep pot: vegetable stock powder, onion, olive oil, small black ink sachets (for extra blackness and umami, you can also use the ink pocket if you manage to retrieve it, which I did not), tomatoes, chopped garlic cloves, Italian dry herbs and white wine. 

Roughly chop the onion and let it soften with a drizzle of olive oil in the pot for about 10 minutes. Then increase to high heat and add in the cuttlefish to sear briefly, for a few minutes. Before it releases too much water add the garlic for two additional minutes followed by all the remaining ingredients. Mix well. Cover and cook at medium-low heat for 20 minutes.

While the stew simmers away, treat yourself with a regional classic: Aperol spritz (or its tantalizing ruby-toned cousin ‘Select’, for the truly devoted). The story goes that 19th-century Austrian infantry couldn’t handle Venice’s strong red wines and had to request sparkling water to dilute it – thus birthing the “spritz”. With such an origin story, no wonder the cocktail is that simple: Add ice cubes to a wine glass, pour 2 parts aperol, 3 parts prosecco and 1 part sparkling water. Top it off with a thick orange slice (fresh or dried) or even a green olive to better pair with a savoury dish. Sip while the stew is shaping up conspicuously under the lid and releasing its fragrance in the kitchen.

Remove the lid and let it reduce slowly for another 10 to 15 minutes until the sauce has thickened and all the cuttlefish cuts are equally tender. Season to taste. Set aside. 

In another pot, bring salted water to a boil. While it is heating up, ladle a portion of your stew in a separate pan and simmer over medium-high heat to reduce further. When your preferred consistency is reached, add the pappardelle to the boiling water and cook for no more than 2 minutes (that is if the dough was rolled thin enough). When nearly cooked, remove from hot water and add to the pan with a splash of cooking water, and mix everything together until al dente, and the sauce clings to every ribbon. Plate in a rustic fashion. As a topping, add parmesan or parsley. If you fancy, garnish with a grilled cuttlefish white cooked apart and scored for aesthetics (as in the picture). 

Before sitting down, you may as well pour yourself another “Select” to sip whilst eating your creation. And so it goes, the journey is complete. With this recipe, you can feel Venetian for a day, by even my unqualified standards. 

Yes, hyperlinks await every trivia, Easter egg or obscure fact mentioned but half-explained. Read them at your own peril.

Finally, savour your Seppie al nero with the reverence that the longest functioning (partial) democracy deserves. It’s not quite being Venetian, but it is a start.

~

Ingredients (Courtesy of chatgpt): 

For the Seppie al Nero (Black Ink Cuttlefish Stew):

• 1 large fresh cuttlefish (with ink pocket, if possible)
• 1 large onion
• 4 small tomatoes (your choice)
• 1 head of garlic (several cloves)
• 2-3 small cuttlefish ink sachets (optional but recommended)
• 1 tsp Italian dried herbs
• 1 tsp vegetable stock powder (or cube)
• Olive oil
• 1 cup White wine (about 220 ml)
• Salt and pepper to taste

For the Pappardelle Pasta:

• 300g type ‘00’ flour
• 3 eggs
• A dash of water
• A pinch of salt
• A pinch of turmeric (for color)

For the Aperol/Select Spritz:

• Ice cubes
• 2 parts Aperol (or Select)
• 3 parts prosecco
• 1 part sparkling water
• Orange slice (fresh or dried) or a green olive

Preparation Steps

Pasta Dough:

1. Beat eggs with salt, turmeric, and water until smooth and golden.
2. Make a well in the flour, pour the egg mixture into the center, and combine with a fork.
3. Knead on a floured surface for 10 minutes until smooth.
4. Wrap in cling film and rest at room temp for 30 minutes.
5. Knead again vigorously for 6–8 minutes (Cantonese noodle technique), then rest another 30 minutes.
6. Roll out very thin (until slightly translucent), then cut into wide pappardelle ribbons.
7. Toss with flour and store in the fridge for up to 2 days.

Cuttlefish Stew:

1. Clean and chop the cuttlefish into bite-sized pieces. Retrieve the ink pocket if intact.
2. Sauté chopped onion in olive oil for 10 minutes over low heat.
3. Increase heat and add cuttlefish; sear briefly.
4. Add chopped garlic and stir for 2 minutes.
5. Add tomatoes, herbs, white wine, vegetable stock, and ink. Mix well.
6. Cover and simmer for 20 minutes.
7. Uncover and reduce for 10–15 minutes until the sauce thickens. Season to taste.

Assembly:

1. Boil salted water in a separate pot.
2. Reduce a ladle of stew in a separate pan over medium-high heat.
3. Cook pasta for 1.5–2 minutes (if fresh/thin), then transfer to the pan with a splash of pasta water.
4. Stir gently until sauce binds to pasta and reaches al dente texture.
5. Serve rustic-style with grated parmesan or parsley, optionally topped with a grilled scored cuttlefish filet.

Aperol/Select Spritz:

1. Fill a wine glass with ice.
2. Add 2 parts Aperol (or Select), 3 parts prosecco, and 1 part sparkling water.
3. Garnish with a thick slice of orange or a green olive. Stir gently.       

~

Photographs: C.S (2025)