An unsuspecting Cory Doctorow was lured by cruel, unscrupulous Ben Hammersley into Hemingway’s in Florence. Outcome described as follows:
Afterwards, I fell asleep for half an hour on the sofa in Hemingway’s, collapsed on one of my dining companions. My brain was overwhelmed with the tastes, and it had to shut my body off so that it could process the input. I have a feeling that from now on, whenever a little money finds its way into my pocket, the temptation to blow it on a plane ticket to Florence (cheap from London, as these things go) and have a cup of Hemingway’s Montezuma is going to be nigh-irresistible. I no longer feel the need to blow my cash on computers or gadgets — just hook an IV of this thing straight into my arm and leave me to die by chocolate.