Question: Called the PURE (Prospective Urban Rural Epidemiology) study, this was a very large observational study looking at the link between fat and carbohydrate consumption and longevity in 18 countries across 5 continents. Running for 7 years and involving over 135,000 people, this was a very big study so its conclusions are right to take notice of. The key finding from the work that attracted the most media attention was that a high carbohydrate diet was linked with a higher risk of earlier mortality, whereas total fat and individual types of fat were related to a lower risk of earlier mortality. Digging deeper into the study, the research team found that global diets consisted of 61 percent energy coming from carbohydrates and 24 percent energy from fats. And while those in the highest carbohydrate consumption group (a whopping 77 percent of energy) had a higher risk of earlier death, it wasn't cardiovascular disease they were dying from. What those other causes of death were exactly is unclear. Perhaps getting hit by a car running for a Mars Bar was one of them as a recent commenter on my Facebook page theorised. A paradigm shift? Not quite Does this study turn on its head 'everything we knew about nutrition?' Not quite. And here's why. Before the PURE study, there were many studies showing the opposite link between carbohydrates and longevity. So, when a conflicting study comes along, this grabs the media spotlight for the day. Here is just one example a major systematic review and meta-analysis from 2013 involving 17 individual studies and over 242,000 people showing a higher risk of earlier mortality as carbohydrate intake decreased. And this is the problem at times with observational research in that two studies can give polar opposite results so the findings of the PURE study should be seen through this filter. I'm not going to pick apart the PURE study for its flaws. Such issues are consistent across all observational studies no matter if the conclusions support consensus views or not. What is of value to... Question: What does the author think about the PURE study? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- the author thinks it is perfect
- not enough information
- the author thinks it has flaws
- the author thinks it is difficult to interpret
Answer: the author thinks it has flaws

input with options: Once, while grating potatoes to make potato pancakes, I had a Proustian moment. I can't lay claim to much in the way of literary knowledge, but I do know that Proust's 'Remembrance of Things Past' was prompted by his biting into a pastry and feeling a sense of overwhelming pleasure with no recognizable cause. In my case, I was instantly transported back to the grandmother's kitchen as she and my mother grated potatoes in order to make 'poutine rapee', also known as 'poutines'. People will immediately flash to the Quebecker ethnic food known by the same name. However, in spite of all the Franco-culinary posturing, this is really only French Fries with gravy and, oh yeah, can I have some cheese curds on that? One etymological source indicates that 'poutine' really means 'mess'. If you come from my part of the country, the Quebecker poutine is just another entry in the long list of dishes that will cause you to keel over from a myocardial infarction while shoveling a foot of snow out of the driveway shortly after you've retired; sometimes before. Nope, poutines as I know them are a different creature entirely. They seem to be more of an Acadian thing and none of my friends had even heard of them, much less eaten a single one. Because of the work involved, my mother only made poutines for special times: Christmas, say or Easter. My mother would borrow this grater that was about two feet long and she and my grandmother would set to work. Generally, they started off with an enormous paper sack of potatoes, about 25 pounds or so (We used to buy potatoes by the cartload and store them in a wooden bin in the basement. Because we were cheap labour, the kids would be sent down to retrieve a few for the family meal. It was creepy to descend into the dank cellar, feel our way through the dim obstacle course formed by my grandfather's thousands of tools and bits of wood and locate the bin. After a time in storage, the eyes on potatoes began to sprout pale tendrils and it didn't take much imagination to visualize all kinds... Question: What is another name for a poutines? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- potato pancakes
- poutine rapee
- french fries
output: poutine rapee

Q: I had seen it before, those fuzzy, furry leaves and stalks, with the pretty, star-pointed purple flowers, but up until that moment that I saw them sitting in a basket at the market stalls, I admit I had never taken notice of it as a food. It grow along cracks in stone walls and along the roadside near my home in Settignano, which is blooming with spring goodness right now: robinia (black locust) trees, wild garlic (three-cornered leek) and even elderflowers are already bursting. I asked the vendor just to double check, "Is this borage?" "Si," Came the answer, "Borragine." He confirmed. "I've had it in ravioli," I started to say, "Brava!" He said, as if we were about to start a guessing game on what could be done with it. Actually, there's a lot that can be done with it. If you can use it as a ravioli filling with ricotta, then you can imagine it taking the place of spinach in gnudi, too, but also soups or frittata or stirred through polenta. I learned that the flowers are just as delicious, if not more interesting, for their delicate cucumber-like flavour people told me of their use in salads or cocktails like Pimms, and someone even mentioned she freezes them in ice cubes, what a pretty idea for those first warm nights when you can dine al fresco, homemade cocktail in hand. Then there's risotto and of course the fritters, much like these ones. Or you can simply deep fry the clusters of buds that haven't yet burst open like these deep-fried robinia flowers. borage and ricotta crepes The problem, I was thinking, as I took home my bag of borage, is that I can't decide what to make. There's simply too much choice. I consulted two of my favourite books that also happen to be cookbooks. Patience Gray's Honey from a Weed and Luigi Ballerini's A Feast of Weeds. Both had wonderful ideas for borage (and indeed many other edible, foraged plants). Question: Why did he buy them? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- because the vendor said they're good
- not enough information
- because they work
- because it's in recipe

A:
because the vendor said they're good