When I was writing the manuscript for Florentine, I enlisted the help of an army of recipe testers about 80 people from all over the world to test every recipe thoroughly. Only one came back to me consistently with problems. From Minnesota to Melbourne, three testers wrote to me that their very first attempt at making Tuscan gnudi (ricotta and spinach balls that, rather than be encased in pasta like for ravioli, are simply dusted in flour) resulted in a pot of simmering water with "dissolved" gnudi. It reminded me of Pellegrino Artusi's potato gnocchi recipe in his famous cookbook from 1891, where he interrupts the recipe instructions to mention a signora who, upon attempting to stir the gnocchi cooking in the pot, finds they have disappeared O dove'erano andati? "Where did they go?" In the case of the gnocchi, there was too little flour used, according to Artusi. But in the case of the gnudi, I already had a hunch. I grilled all three testers on a number of various factors was the water just simmering, not on a rolling boil (which can destroy delicate gnudi), did they drain the spinach very well, and equally the ricotta (one said she even drained it overnight)? Did they use "proper" ricotta? Aha. "Proper" ricotta. The kind that was only made a day or so earlier, the leftovers of the cheese-making process, the real deal. The kind that you can see in a deli counter, standing on its own, that gets cut into a big wedge and weighed when you order it. Not the kind you buy at the supermarket, in a tub, that so often is grainy, more like the consistency of yogurt, has no structure, and is full of unnecessary gums or additives. All my recipe testers had used the second kind to be fair, some were new to the idea of buying ricotta and in their neighbourhood only had access to this. In that case, it would have probably been better to make your own, or choose another recipe. Where in Italy would gnudi be best made? Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. Venice B. Tuscany C. not enough information D. Rome
B

"They've got cameras everywhere, man. Not just in supermarkets and departments stores, they're also on your cell phones and your computers at home. And they never turn off. You think they do, but they don't. "They're always on, always watching you, sending them a continuous feed of your every move over satellite broadband connection. "They watch you fuck, they watch you shit, they watch when you pick your nose at the stop light or when you chew out the clerk at 7-11 over nothing or when you walk past the lady collecting for the women's shelter and you don't put anything in her jar. "They're even watching us right now," the hobo added and extended a grimy, gnarled digit to the small black orbs mounted at either end of the train car. There were some days when I loved taking public transportation, and other days when I didn't. On a good day, I liked to sit back and watch the show, study the rest of the passengers, read into their little ticks and mannerisms and body language, and try to guess at their back stories, giving them names and identities in my head. It was fun in a voyeuristic kind of way. And luckily, today was a good day. I watched the old Vietnamese woman with the cluster of plastic shopping bags gripped tightly in her hand like a cloud of tiny white bubbles. My eyes traced the deep lines grooving her face, and I wondered about the life that led her to this place. I watched the lonely businessman staring longingly across the aisle at the beautiful Mexican girl in the tight jeans standing with her back to him. He fidgeted with the gold band on his finger, and I couldn't tell if he was using it to remind himself of his commitment or if he was debating whether he should slyly slip it off and talk to her. Who fidgeted with his wedding ring? Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. Maxican man B. the businessman C. not enough information D. the hobo
B

I still remember that day when my mother realized that finally I had matured and was no longer a child. It was the month of December and my parents were not at home. It was very cold and I was thinking of doing something that can raise my body temperature . Well, now I think I should have chosen doing exercise over porn . The mood was set, wi-fi speed was good and Google search was working. It took me half an hour to select a porn video. After selecting the video I downloaded it . WTF where are my earphones. Took 15 minutes to locate my earphones. The movie began and just after 5 seconds the door bell rang and this was where I got screwed when I forgot to minimize the movie. My parents were back home and I was back to my studies and just forgot about the movie. Now I have a habit that while I am studying I keep the phone in the next room. My mother was in the same room where the phone was. Now comes the worst part when my phone received a whatsapp message and my mother saw that message was dropped. Without giving any damm to my privacy she opened the phone and it was my bad luck that there was no screen lock. The movie automatically started and after 5 seconds she took the phone to my dad she said "This is what he is doing when he's alone" My parents called me what is this ?? I said it's a video message from the company and it starts automatically. I have nothing to do with that stuff and suddenly my dad said yes he is right, it's a video from the company and asked me to delete the video. My dad saved me because he already knew that I watched that kind of stuff. From that day on, I never download the movies but I watch them online, I just hate the buffering part . His mother saw the video: Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. not enough information B. before the message came through C. while the message was coming through D. after the message came through
D