21-25

 

26-30 

 

        One of the scariest videos on YouTube was recorded by the nose-cone camera of a fighter jet as it was taking off. 26 The pilot spends an agonizing 30 seconds or so trying to regain control, before issuing the order to eject, after which the viewer is treated to a shot of the onrushing ground before the screen goes blank. 

        Bird strikes are a problem—sometimes a fatal one—for military and civil aviation alike. America’s Federal Administration reports that there are about 10,000 such strikes a year to the country’s non-military aircraft, costing more than $957 million in damage and delays. 27 

        Moreover, though relatively few people have been killed in accidents caused by bird strikes, the potential for something horrible to happen is real—as was shown by one of the most famous strikes of recent years. 28 The passengers were saved only by the skill of the pilot, Chelsley Sullenberger, who managed to ditch the plane safely in the Hudson river. 

        At the moment, attempts to deal with the problem mostly involve efforts to cull flocks of the larger species—geese in particular—in the vicinity of airports, and also the use of bird scarers to try to drive off those actually sitting near runways. 29 There may, however, be a better way. For a decade or more the air forces of several countries have used radar to track birds which might threaten their aircraft. 30 If they work, the old methods of trying to scare birds away, or cull them, can be abandoned. 

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(A) Now, similar systems are being considered for civilian airports. 

(B) In 2009 an Airbus with 155 people on board hit a flock of geese when it was taking off from LaGuardia airport in New York. 

(C) As the figures suggest, these approaches do not work well. 

(D) Just after the plane leaves the runway a large bird comes hurtling towards it and vanishes into the aircraft’s engine. 

(E) The world-wide figure is estimated by the European Space Agency to be $1.2 billion.

31-35 

        Berries, like most things in this world, taste even better along with a stiff drink. But now scientists have found that booze has the magical power to make fresh berries even healthier than they already are: soaking the fruits in rum or vodka supercharged their antioxidant levels. This makes us extremely happy. Because we love things that battle cancer-causing oxidative cell damage almost as much as we enjoy inventing punched-fruit cocktails. Dunk the fresh blackberries, mint leaves, sugar syrup and lime juice into a tall glass. Using the back of spoon (or a muddler if you’re a pro at this stuff), lightly mash the mixture to bring out the flavors. Add some crushed ice, then pour the rum—easy there— and stir. Top with soda water and then pretend it’s not raining and that you live in Havana.

        If you want to see a roomful of people roll their eyes, just walk into a gathering of astronomers and shout, “Mayan apocalypse!” For years now, the idea that the earth will be destroyed in a terrible cataclysm on Dec. 21, 2012, has been bouncing around the internet and showing up in articles, books and even movies. But despite what the tinfoil-hat crowd insists, an asteroid is not about to hit the earth. Neither is there an imaginary planet called Nibiru. Our world isn’t going to be abruptly flipped upside down like a burger on a griddle. What’s more, Mayan astrologers never said any of that stuff would actually happen. Yes, the Maya had what’s known as a Long Count calendar, and yes, that calendar ends on Dec. 21, 2012. But the nice thing about calendars, including the one the Maya used, is that they always start over again from zero. All the same, some folks at NASA are worried—not about the end of the world but about the harm all the loose talk may be doing. “I get a tremendous number of e-mails about it,” says a scientist at the NASA. “A large fraction are from people asking if the world will end. A few even talk about suicide.” In an attempt to stop the hysteria, NASA convened a Google+ hangout during which people could ask astronomers anything they wanted to about the rumors. For nearly an hour, the scientists soothed nerves, patiently explaining, for example, that an asteroid en route to earth would have been spotted by telescopes long ago and that Nibiru, if it existed, would now be the brightest object in the sky after the sun and moon.

        For the ancient people of Central America, money grew on trees—cacao trees, that is, the source of chocolate. Inside the football-shaped pods that sprout from cacao trunks and branches lie rows of seeds. Those seeds, often called beans, were among the most coveted products that the Central Americans traded in their own region and beyond. The seeds also served as currency throughout the realm. 

        Native to the tropics of the Americas, cacao trees thrive in rain forests beneath the shading canopy of taller plants. Nobody knows who first cultivated cacao. The word itself trances back to the ancient word kakaw. By about 1100 B.C. the early people there were making a cacao brew. In time, they produced the first chocolate: a thick, bitter beverage used especially for rites of passage—birth, marriage, induction into the priesthood, even entry into the afterlife. The traditional recipe began with drying, roasting, and grinding fermented cacao seeds. Then they mixed the resulting powder with water and flavorings that included cinnamon, chilies, and vanilla. They poured the concoction back and forth between pots, creating a cap of foam that was considered the most delicious part. 

        Many vessels created for storing and serving spiced chocolate show scenes of kings and nobles drinking it, as well as the gods. Commoners may also have imbibed during feast days. Some vessels were personalized with glyphs that read, “This is my chocolate pot.”

        Three days a week, a retired agricultural officer named Teodoro sets to work in the back of what was once a small roadside shop about an hour and a half south of Rome, making a cheese that has twice come close to extinction. Using a stirring stick and a large aluminum vat, he curdles sheep’s milk into small wheels of cheese, which he shapes by hand and sets on a table to dry. Il Conciato di San Vittore, as the cheese is called, represents the deepest roots of Italian culinary production—small scale, artisanal, steeped in history. Yet the chances for its survival would be slim if not for a recent partnership with an Italian business operating on a vastly different scale: the newly opened Eataly supermarket in central Rome. 

        With four floors of aisles and restaurants connected by moving walk ways and glass elevators, the location is the gourmet chain’s newest and biggest, a flagship in the Italian capital to complement its branches in New York City, Tokyo, Torino and Milan. Mario Batali, a partner in the booming New York outpost, has turned Eataly into a hit by selling Americans on the appeal of traditional Italian culture. Eataly, in fact, is much more than that. With its big-box décor, globe-spanning ambitions and innovative marketing, it represents an opportunity for Italians to reclaim a culinary heritage that’s slipping away. On the broad spectrum of food culture, Eataly and Il Conciato di San Vittore are a world apart, yet each would be lost without the other. 

        Until a couple of generations ago, Italy was still largely an agricultural country, and many people made their own cheeses, hams, jams and sauces. Those who didn’t buy them from small vendors in their local market. But industrialization and urbanization have withered those links to the land. Women have left the kitchen for the workplace. Morning markets have given way to grocery stores. Small-scale artisans have succumbed to national producers’ economies of scale. In 1996 roughly 40% of Italy’s food was sold by small, traditional retailers. A decade later that percentage had been cut in half. “Nobody wanted to go to the market any more, where it smelled and you were pressed inside with others,” some commented.