The sudden burst of spring produce in the market after a long, monotonous winter of cavolo nero and bright oranges is one of the things that constantly reminds me why I love living and eating in Italy. A wander through the market like any other becomes, in spring time, a new experience. I feel like a fresh arrival, like it's my first time walking through my local market. There are long, twisty fava bean pods, waiting to be podded and munched on with bitey pecorino cheese to tame the bitterness of the raw beans. Thin, long-stemmed asparagus. A lovely array of greens, including radishes with leaves so happy that they become the main ingredient, fluffy-fronded fresh herbs and fresh garlic. Artichokes of many different kinds, but especially the pointed purple ones that are either local, from Tuscany's Maremma, or sometimes from Puglia or Sicily. Rarely the rounded globe artichokes you find spilling out of crates in Rome, or the tiny, delicate Venetian ones, the so-called castraure (though they often aren't the real deal, how you can tell is by the price) that you can find in the shadow of the Rialto. And then there are thick bunches of agretti (salsola soda), looking more like mermaid's hair than a monk's beard, their English namesake. A few years ago, this wasn't such a common sight at the market in Florence. It still isn't, in that you won't get them by the crateful like you do fava beans and artichokes, though they're not particularly difficult to find now. They're just one of those special things that don't last long. Blink and you'll miss them, or come late to the market and they could easily be sold out. It's worth getting up and out of the house a little earlier for these (a note to myself, of course). If you've never tasted agretti before, it's worth seeking out if you're in the right place at the right time and find a bunch or see it on a menu. Frances Mayes likens it to spinach, but notes that it is so much more, "While agretti has the mineral sharpness of spinach, it tastes livelier, full of the energy... Question: What is probably true about the narrator? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- They love cooking
- They love walking
- They love spring
- not enough information
They love cooking

I had the joy, absolute joy, of observing an ER nurse just about lose it and the poor pompous MD (who had left the room) was still clueless. I was in the ER with my dad and my sister. It was late. Dad had taken a tumble, hit his head and because he was on a blood thinner, he had to be checked out at the ER. This ER was in the same hospital we always went to. As we completed the history etc. I noted "stroke effecting speech." They had a complete synopsis of dad's history which I gave them as we checked in. Dad is getting tired and his speech was getting more slurred. My Dad was in work clothes. I was in something pretty casual and my sister was in the same clothes (business attire) that she had put on at 6 a.m. I am sure we looked pretty ragged. In waltzes Dr. Hotshot. He looks around and asks my sister and I who we are. My sister introduced us making sure to introduce me as "Dr. Lea (I think that was the first, last, and only time she called me 'Dr."). He then turns to my dad and asked what happened. Knowing how difficult it is to understand Dad, I start to answer. My bad. The doctor abruptly stops me and says, "I didn't ask you. I want him to tell me." In hindsight, I realize he wanted to hear dad's speech as a part of his assessment. Dad begins. His speech is slow and very very slurred. Dr. Hotshot looks totally befuddled. Dad had gotten out about 3 sentences out when Dr. Hotshot stops him and abruptly asks, "Does he always talk like that?" My sister, without missing a beat, replies, "No, sometimes he speaks French." As I am trying to not swallow my head to keep from laughing, I notice the nurse in the room has buried her mouth in her shoulder. Dr. Hotshot exits. A scan shows no damage. And, for the record, Dad never did learn to speak French. Question: Who gave them Mr Lee's history? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Dr Lee
- Dr Lee's sister
- Mr Lee
- not enough information

Answer: Dr Lee

One time I was walking my puppy (profile pic) who was then around 5 months, with my mum and grandma. By the time we were about to reach our house, we spot two dogs, a German Shepherd and a Husky, both male, on the other side of the street sniffing around with no owner in sight. I was ready to hightail out of there with my dog, but I knew if I ran they would chase, so we formed a wall in front of her to hide her. Of course she decides to stick out her head and start barking. Those two dogs whipped their heads so fast and came running towards us to see her. Since she is a puppy she has zero impulse control and starts throwing herself at them, at their backs, face, plus the fact that she doesn't like being sniffed at her rear (which they are trying very hard to get to). Here I am nervously sweet talking to them, my voice trembling saying good boys. My grandma is her despair grabs the GS's neck, and his hair bristled and growled for a second before turning back to our pup. At this point my baby girl is sitting down with her tail tucked close, ears flattened, and head down. I thought "Dear Lord someone's losing a limb today." When suddenly this car comes pulling up and this man comes out with a leash, the owner. He practically had to wrestle the GS into the car. A woman in a pickup truck comes next trying to get the husky but he ran away again, but my mom didn't care, she scooped up our pup and ran, the leash trailing behind her, and even my grandma who has troubles in her knees speed walked. My mom would later laugh at me because I became so pale and because I tried to baby talk a dog to leave us alone. Question: When did the owner wrestle the GS into the car? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- After the woman in the pickup truck came
- Before the puppy's ears flattened
- not enough information
- Before the woman in the pickup truck came
Before the woman in the pickup truck came