Squid Lequeitio

One hot August I spent a teenage summer holiday with my parents in a village called Lequeitio on the coast of Northern Spain and had my first holiday romance. His name was Dietrich. He was dark and handsome with navy blue eyes. Every evening we danced in the village square and every day we swam together, holding hands. One night he took me to a restaurant where I tasted my first squid, not fried as it usually is in Spain, nor in its rich black ink, but in a sweet onion sauce, flavoured with