Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] This was the endless problem of all spaceship cooks: He had to feed the men tomorrow on what they had eaten today! men on ships think about, talk about, bitch about their food. It's true that Woman remains a topic of thoughtful study, but discussion can never replace practice in an art. Food, on the other hand, is a challenge shipmen face three times a day, so central to their thoughts that a history of sea-faring can be read from a commissary list. his diet, a fruit known to us mariners of a more sophisticated age man condemned to snack on the Chlorella-spawn of cis-Martian space. Triton made her underwater periplus of Earth with a galley stocked with frozen pizza and concentrated apple-juice. But then, when sailors left the seas for the food. The earliest men into the vacuum swallowed protein squeezings groundsman's diet of steak and fried potatoes. through a view-port, galley science had fulfilled the disgusting 36:12, to feed the Slimeheads for breakfast today what was day-before-yesterday's table-scraps and jakes-water. The Ship's Cook, the man who accomplishes the daily miracle of turning offal into eatables, is in many ways the most vital man aboard a spacer. He can make morale or foment a mutiny. His power is paramount. galleyman leveled his Chlorella tanks with heavy water from the ship's shielding. Four officers and twenty-one Other Ranks were rescued from the incident, too, caused by a Ship's Cook who allowed the stomach of every man aboard, where it fermented each subsequent bite he ate to a superior grade of the ancient observation, "God sends food, and the Devil sends cooks," Marsmen will recall what happened aboard my ship the the hardest man in space and very likely the fattest. Ship's Cook was Robert Bailey. Cooking aboard a spacer is a job combining the more frustrating tensions of biochemistry, applied mycology, high-speed farming, dietetics and sewage engineering. It's the Cook's responsibility to see that each man aboard gets each day no less than five pounds of water, two pounds of oxygen, and one-and-a-half pounds of dry food. This isn't just a paragraph from the Spacer Union Contract. It's a Twelve tons of water, oxygen, and food would have filled the cargo compartments to bursting, and left a small ship like the of metabolites would see us through from Brady Station to Piano West and back. Recycling was the answer. The molecule of carbohydrate, fat, protein or mineral that didn't feed the crew fed the algae. And the algae fed us. essential amino acids. politicians are right enough when they say that we spacers are a Generally the man aboard who'd serve as the most popular murder-victim is the Cook. This trip, the-man-you-love-to-hate was our Captain. If the Cook hadn't problems enough with the chemical and psychic duties was the sort of man who, if he had to go into space at all, had best do the carbohydrate recycler. The crew thanked him. The Captain did not. "Not much," I said. "I suspect that the finest gift our Captain can to live with him. He's a good man at driving a ship." "I wish he'd leave off driving this Cook," Bailey said. "The fat swine!" "His plumpness is an unwitting tribute to your cooking, Bailey," I said. "He eats well. We all do. I've dined aboard a lot of spacers in the good work, though, and you'll keep our Captain fat." from Medical Stores and offered him a therapeutic draught. The Cook steak." "Yes, I eat it," the Captain said, taking and talking through another "Only good food," Winkelmann mumbled through his mouthful of disguised don't know what I can do to please you." "You are a spacer and a Ship's Cook, not a suburban Hausfrau with the keep my belly content and my brain alive." that my cruelty to the Belly-Robber is the biliousness of a middle-aged the appetite of our splenetic Captain. Each such offering was condemned mealtimes, but was frustrated by Winkelmann's orders. "Convey my compliments to the Chef, please," the Captain would instruct one of the crew, "and ask him to step down here a moment." And the Cook would cheerlessly appear in the dining-cubby, to have his culinary genius into Hohmann orbit. His every meal established a higher benchmark in brilliant galleymanship. We were served, for instance, an have learned to cook with the competence of a freshman Home Economics they were in addition gratified that the battle between their Captain and their Cook served to feed them so well. Most spacers embark on an outward voyage somewhat plump, having eaten enough on their last few days aground to smuggle several hundred calories of fat and many memories of good food aboard with them. This trip, none of the men had lost weight during the first four months in space. Winkelmann, indeed, Captain that he curtail his diet for reasons of health, a bit of advice Each man aboard a spacer is allowed ten kilograms of personal effects besides his uniforms, these being considered Ship's Furnishing. As his rank and responsibility merit, the Captain is allowed double this ration. He may thus bring aboard with him some forty-five pounds of books, playing-cards, knitting-wool, whiskey or what have you to help him while away the hours between the planets. Bailey, I knew for a fact, had used up his weight-allowance in bringing aboard a case of spices: marjoram and mint, costmary, file powder, basil and allspice, had much practice. "I've been working on the problem of steak, Sir," texture steak-like. Do you understand, Sir?" should feel like steak to the mouth, and not like baby-food. Right?" meat." our food," the Captain said, his jowls settling into an expression of the meal." Lifting a hunk of the "steak," streaming ketchup, to his mouth, sufficient ketchup here to see me through to Mars. Please keep a "You must realize, Belly-Robber, that a dyspeptic Captain is a threat to the welfare of his ship. Were I to continue eating your surrealistic "Doctor, I must point out to you that it ill behooves the Ship's packaged amino acid additives. And he expects meals that would take the blue ribbon at the annual banquet restaurant of yours and forget about our fat Flying Dutchman." though daring him to comment. The Captain lifted a spoonful of the now strong enough to withstand the Captain's fiercest assaults of irony. Our food would likely be bad the rest of this trip, but that was theory of forcing a Cook to make bricks without straw. The Captain had pushed too hard. He'd need that ketchup for the meals to come, I thought. Sale's mess compartment, we ate our meals in three shifts. That evening, going down the ladder to supper, my nose was met with a spine-tingling barbecue tang, a smell first-shift diners said. "It actually tastes of food!" "Then he's beat the Captain at his game," I said. "The Dutchman won't want to mess ketchup on these steaks," the crewman said. performance out of his Ship's Cook." of the ship and his crew. "Do I like Captain Winkelmann?" I asked,

<question>:
What does the narrator seem to think makes a good cook on a spacer?

<options>:
A Someone who can get food out as fast and as consistently as possible
B They can bring people together in conversations about food
C They are willing to be creative in addition to an attention to detail
D They are able to make meals to help the crewmates lose weight

<answer>:

C