Write a question from the passage such that it identifies a character (a person or a thing) in the passage.

Q: Thank you for the A2A …..
What has been your biggest heartbreak during your adult years?
Had I answered this question 20 years ago, it would have been the death of my Daddy … Had it been 12 years ago, it would have been the death of my Mother … Had it been 10 years ago, it would have been when my son turned his back on God so far that he went into satanism … As it is now ~ I would have to say that the biggest heartbreak in my life was 3 years ago when I discovered (online) that my beautiful daughter had begun taking Testosterone injections.
Believe me ~ I've been told time after time that her decision to do so is her own … to that fact I will agree. What I cannot agree with though, is that I have no right to feel hurt, upset, or any of the other assorted emotions that come with having a transgender child!! It's not okay to be devastated by the choices my little girl makes … Its not okay to not agree with what she's doing to herself … It's not gonna have an impact on her family … It's not something that is allowed to affect our relationship …
The ONLY thing that matters ~ is the transgender person and how they feel!!!!
One of the biggest things that bothers me is when I'm told that I can't love my child ~ unless I accept that she wants to be a male and give her support with that decision. I can say that I do love my daughter ~ I always have ~ and I always will. A mother's love doesn't go away.
***To those who wish to attack me for what I have to say on the topic of transgenderism ~ I respect your right to tell me your opinion and why you think I'm wrong … but my feelings matter, too, and deserve that same respect from you.***
Wishing you the best!!

A: Who has died?
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Q: Is not necessarily worth two of anything, anywhere else. But it can certainly be a heck of a lot of fun. During my days as an inmate in Bridges House at the University of New Brunswick, I shared this space with about 99 other testosterone-addled 'young adults' whose charming tendency to get completely out of hand was barely held in check by the rod of authority of the Don and Resident Fellow. This is not to say that these two worthies weren't good at their jobs; more accurately, their task was more akin to herding cats -- fairly obtuse, barely socialized cats. Given the state of controlled chaos that existed, it wasn't unusual for little conflicts to arise from time to time. Being rather physically small and odd, I came in for a certain amount of abuse from someone called Scut, a large and obnoxious Newfie (hmmm, that's like saying that water is wet). I can't remember what it was he did to me, but it was serious enough that I decided to get my own back. It's been said that revenge is a dish best enjoyed cold. I think revenge is a dish best enjoyed in secret with no chance of counter-revenge to spoil the occasion. And so it was that I laid my plans against Scut. The occasion and place were set. My means of entry was secured. Now I needed material. For me, the only good fish is a live one. Even though I hale from NB, I really don't like free-swimming seafood. Considering the unimaginative cuisine of my youth, it's surprising that I eat anything at all. So with dead, smelly fish in mind, I persuaded my friend Shan to pick one up when he was down at the Saturday Farmer's Market. He returned with a four-pound shad, frozen solid. Shad has even more bones than other fish and you'll never see it featured on any cooking show (except maybe Iron Chef, where the disgusting and unusual seems to be standard). It took me all day to thaw out the fish in the lounge sink?#8364;?an activity which elicited howls of complaint from the guys trying to watch TV.

A: Who returned from the Farmer's Market with a four-pound fish?
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Q: 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.

A:
Who wrote a famous cookbook in 1891?
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