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. Question: What is the gnudi compared to? === The answer to the above question is

Answer: gnocchi


The dumbest thing that actually worked? I joined Tinder. Reason I say it was the dumbest is because I still acknowledge that it’s not my kind of dating scene even though I ended up meeting the love of my life through the app. Other than that? Nothing was wrong or dumb. I have done nothing much because the man I am currently dating sent me a superlike after I was on the app for less than 12 hours. I joined, created profile, went through possible matches, and then went to bed. I didn’t have enough time to do something dumb. Now my boyfriend on the other hand was on the app for 4–5 months prior to me joining and him finding me. His story is that he had been in there long enough to end up matching with some bots (robots that somehow end up joining or hacking the app. I have not a clue how) that he would have conversations with to test if they were legitimate people. He would also match with different people who would either immediately block him because he came as weird or he would block them because they came off as weird. When he found me, what he saw in my profile was that I was local, I was a legitimate person because I knew someone that he knew through Facebook, and I had multiple pictures of myself that looked genuine. I also had a description where I stated my intention for using the app which was that I was looking for a serious relationship. What he did after I connected with him was talk to me and then test me as the conversation progressed. How did he test me? He told a corny joke which I laughed to. If I hadn’t have found his joke funny, he probably wouldn’t have asked me out on a date. I hope that answers your question. I know it wasn’t very…. eventful. Question: After they talked on Tinder the couple probably what? === The answer to the above question is

Answer: Met in person.


Weight gain is a complex issue. But there is little doubt that the current food environment in Western countries – heavy in highly processed salty, sugary, and fatty food – has a big role to play. Most of the salt eaten in our diet has been added to food in the manufacturing process. This is in contrast to the small amount of salt naturally present in most foods or what is added at the table or at home in cooking. Salt can be a desirable taste, increasing the palatability of foods in addition to helping preserve it; that’s why it is commonly added in processed foods. Combining salt and fat together is thought to be a potent combination in helping to promote passive over-consumption foods. Just think of how moreish salty chips can be. Having a greater liking for salty and fatty foods is associated with eating more kilojoules overall, uncontrolled eating, and overweight in children. This link between overconsumption of food and its degree of saltiness is considered stronger than having a liking for sweet and fatty foods. Teasing out further how salt may influence the over-consumption of fatty foods, sensory researchers from Deakin University recruited 48 healthy adults to take part in a tasting panel. Over four lunchtime sessions (following on from a standardised breakfast that morning), each person ate a meal of macaroni and cheese where the fat and salt content had been manipulated. The four meal combinations were low-fat/low-salt, low-fat/high-salt, high-fat/low-salt and high-fat/high-salt. Participants were encouraged to eat as much as they wished until feeling full. Eating rate, meal agreeability, and subjective ratings of hunger and fullness were also taken. Salt promotes over-eating Eleven percent more kilojoules were consumed when the meals eaten were high in salt. And this was irrespective of if the fat content was high or low. The fat content of the meal didn’t result in people eating more food by weight, but because of its greater energy density, that meant more kilojoules were eaten. Question: How often do people who are conditioned to prefer a calorie-dense diet probably eat high salt foods? === The answer to the above question is

Answer:
More than once a week.