I have known, and admired, Julia Busuttil Nishimura, for many years now and always felt connected through our love of Italian food, Tuscany (Julia lived in Florence and in Orbetello, just 10 minutes away from where we lived in Porto Ercole while I was writing Acquacotta) and Japan. So I have been eagerly awaiting her debut cookbook, Ostro: The Pleasure that Comes From Slowing Down and Cooking with Simple Ingredients, and it is a beauty it is full of food I want to make and eat. It's also a joy to look at, as it is presented so beautifully with photographs of Julia (and often her darling little boy Haruki) at home and tables full with food that look Caravaggesque. I have already made her everyday banana loaf, several times, after years of searching for my ideal everyday cake, it is now my go-to banana loaf. I tested her ricciarelli (soft almond cookies from Siena) and pork braised in milk (a classic Italian dish that I have always loved) when she was writing the book and I have long-known her absolutely wonderful, incredibly moist lemon olive oil cake (which is also divine with blood oranges). I absolutely love her homemade approach to everything, including all the wonderful handmade pasta like trofie and orecchiette (look at those beautiful dishes below), but also things like classic tiramisu homemade savoiardi, homemade mascarpone (yes and yes, I absolutely believe that for the freshest, most delicious mascarpone, it needs to be homemade especially if you live outside of Italy). Yes, these are all things you can also buy in a packet, but Julia's point is, it is a pleasure to make these things by hand, and the ingredients are so simple water, flour, cream, eggs, you probably have them all in your house already. She is a woman after my own heart. Her book inspires you to give it a go. According to the above context, choose the correct option to answer the following question. Question: The writer loved cooking Options: A. not enough information B. after knowing julia C. while knowing julia D. before knowing julia
D

(Question)
With regular money now coming in from the Guardian column, my regular contributions to other publications and the modest subscription revenue from The Friday Thing, I had been living something of the high life since arriving in London. I had started hanging out with the great and the good of the dot com world: attending launch parties for new sites, going to parties to celebrate them staying in business for a whole year, eating their lunches, drinking their booze and learning their secrets while they tried to convince me to write about them in my column. Many of these online entrepreneurs had become my friends and I'd managed to find myself a new girlfriend - Maggie, a Welsh journalist who was a restaurant reviewer for a food and drink website. This was a brilliant blag: it meant we could eat at some of London's best restaurants and never pay a penny. Life was wonderful: The Friday Thing and the Guardian column meant that my plan to use the Internet to become hugely famous and successful was firmly on track, I'd made lots of new friends, and, on top of all that, I was getting laid and eating gourmet food for free. Even Sam Lewis was jealous, and he was rich. Meanwhile, the people I was writing about were not having such an easy time of it. 2003 was a really strange time to be covering the 'new media' industry - mainly because no one was really sure for how long there would be an industry left to cover. The dot com boom of 1999 seemed like a millennium ago: a period in history as crazy as the tulip craze or the South Sea Bubble look to us now. The first signs of trouble for the industry had come in 2000. As the century turned, so had the market and - to use the parlance of analysts - the boom had turned out to be a bubble. And then the bubble had burst. According to the above context, choose the correct option to answer the following question. Question: Who is Sam Lewis Options: A. The main character's best friend B. The main character's brother C. not enough information D. The main character's boss
(Answer)
C

Question: November always dragged around the station, but today was one dead Sunday. Not one car pulled off the interstate all morning. Nothing hit the drive but a thin steady rain, puddling slow rainbows in the oil. Me and Harnie just tilted back our chairs against the cigarette rack, watched the monster movie, and waited for the game to start. The big flying turtle was about set to barbeque downtown Tokyo when the drive bell rang, and up sluiced a car so damn gorgeous it hurt to look at it. A '37 Buick Roadmaster it was, painted a red so rich it was nearly black, that straight eight engine whispering like a lover while teardrops of rain rolled down the chrome grill. Out climbed this tall fellow, dressed like God's grandpa done up for a wedding or a funeral. His skin was brown as a buckwheat cake, with creases deep as drainage ditches. Took a mighty long stretch of sweat and toil, love and birth and dying, to carve a face like that. He flexed his shoulders, then rolled his neck till it cracked. He pulled a pack of Camel straights from inside his vest and flipped one out. "Got a light?" His voice was deep and warm, half gravel, half honey. I tossed him a pack of matches through the open door; he caught it left-handed, then flipped it open, folded over a match, and struck it with his thumb. "This the town with the dead fiddler?" he said after a long drag on the smoke. "You might say so," I said, ignoring the look Harnie gave me. Nobody talked about her; I wondered how this fellow had even heard about her. "Ain't a fiddle, though. It's a cello, like in the symphony." The stranger shrugged. "Close enough." "She ain't d-dead, neither," Harnie said. "M-more sleeping, like." He puffed out a wreath of smoke. Then another. "Let's go wake her up," he said. "You best not try, mister," I said. "She been sleeping for thirty some year." According to the above context, choose the correct option to answer the following question. Question: The main character is: Options: A. musician B. asleep C. not enough information D. mechanic
Answer:
D