Surely the best thing about colomba, the Easter equivalent to panettone, is the sugared, toasted almond topping that covers the whole thing and crumbles when you cut it, so you sort of have no choice but just to pick up the crusty sugary bits and eat those on their own. I'd always thought that colomba would make a very good baking project but was somewhat intimated by getting the right shape it's vaguely in the shape of a dove, if you use your imagination and texture wonderfully soft, fluffy, sweet yeasted bread. I had attempted making panettone (this fig, walnut and date panettone) a few years ago with fair results absolutely delicious results, actually, they were just not as fluffy and bouncy as expertly made ones from your favourite pastry shop where panettoni are hung upside-down to maintain their height and airiness. But when I came across the familiar brown and gold paper forms for making colomba at the supermarket, I thought I'm only ever going to get a chance to make this now! Like the panettone, I referred to my favourite baking book for Italian specialties, Carol Field's The Italian Baker. Field recounts a bit of history behind the colomba, which I'm sure is little known to anyone these days. Colomba is a fixture at Easter tables all around Italy (and is often given as presents), even though it comes from the north of Italy, Pavia. It is one of those traditions that are now a given, where a slice of colomba, perhaps eaten with pieces of a cracked chocolate Easter egg and an espresso or a glass of dessert wine, is a welcome end to the meal (or indeed breakfast the next day). But the legend behind it is a medieval one and rather disturbing maybe it was made up to encourage young girls to learn how to bake their own colomba (and make sure it was good) to get themselves out of sticky, undesirable situations. Question: Who wrote "The Italian Baker?" Options: - Joe Fields - not enough information - Carol Fields - John Fields === The correct answer is
Carol Fields
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I was a student nurse at the time. I was assisting in the delivery of an infant. My specific task was to work with the rather over-excited father-to-be. He was an absolute delight to work withvery solicitous of his wife all throughout, very cooperative with the staff, and very appreciative of the help we were giving the mother-to-be. The background was that after 7 years of marriage, and 2 tragic miscarriages, THIS pregnancy had come to full term, and the childdeliberately they did NOT want to know the genderwas healthy, and both "mom" and "dad" were excited about the upcoming birth. The child finally emerged, the MD held up the child, and "dad" blurted out "It's a girl!! You wanted a girl!!! Oh my God, she's beautiful!!" Then he buried his face on his wife's shoulder and was sobbing for pure joy. The MD quickly put him to workhe was to cut the umbilical cord. "I'm not going to hurt her, am I??" MD assured him no, he wouldn't. He made the cut, and came immediately over to the wife"Honeyare you all right?? I didn't hurt you??"" While the his daughter was being bathed and checked out by the APGAR nurse, he excited called out the various observationsshe as healthy..she was pinking upshe was so beautiful "I can't believe it." When the nurse returned the little girl to "mom", the three of them cuddled together, tears just pouring from his eyesand we in the birthing suite were all getting teary-eyed ourselves. That was 30 years ago, and I still get tears just thinking about what I consider the most beautiful moment of my life, one that I was lucky to share with these two wonderful people. Question: Why were nurses becoming teary-eyed? Options: - They were happy the couple finally had become parents. - not enough information - They were angry the couple had become parents. - They were upset the couple had become parents. === The correct answer is
They were happy the couple finally had become parents.
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The air exploded in a flash of bone and steel and blood. The clash of metal rang through the forest. An arrow pierced through the darkness, its barbed head tearing through flesh and muscle. A roar echoed off of the mountains far to the west. A cry broke through soon after. Then silence. Char stood over a pile of black fur and red blood. He held a curved sword, jagged half way down the wide blade and hilted in bone. He held a large thick bow in the other. Lorfel and Ranur stood behind him, panting. Lorfel, a short man of twenty six held a large axe in both hands and still prepared to swing it hard. Ranur, the largest of the three held a pike in one hand, its tip hanging low towards the ground. He buried his other hand in his gray tunic. "Did it get either of you?" Char's voice rasped low in the silence of the night. "No" Lorfel said. He planted his axe head on the ground with a thud and leaned on the tall handle. There was a pause. Char turned towards Ranur. "Are you hurt?" "Mm...My hand." Ranur took his hand out of his tunic. Moonlight gleamed red off of the ragged wound. Char thought he saw a glimmer of bone. "Did he claw you or bite you?" Char's voice held an urgency that set both Lorfel and Ranur on edge. Ranur paused and then spoke low. "He bit me." Char picked Lorfel and Ranur as his hunting partners for their speed and sharpness in battle. They had hunted beasts of the deep woods all of their lives. They hunted the beasts that hunted men. They all knew the risks of battling such creatures. The old man dropped his curved sword, drew his bow, and fired. The arrow hammered into Ranur's chest, burying itself in his heart. Lorfel saw the gleaming arrow head sticking almost a foot out of his companion's back. Ranur fell face first to the ground. Question: From what or whom did the roar came from? Options: - Char - not enough information - A beast - Ranur === The correct answer is
A beast
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