The Pasta Cure for the Hungry and the Stressed-Out
'In our house — I’m a woman married to a woman — I can freely call my wife my “husband,” and she can come home from work and say, “Hello, my beautiful wife,” and we can crack jokes about who wears the pants in the family, even when I’m standing there in a dress. We entertain each other endlessly by mucking up the gendered pronouns and subverting the chores and behaviors usually assigned to them.
“This guy here needs a cocktail,” Ashley will say, grinning and pointing at herself with a few shakes of her thumb.
I can’t even do the down portion of a single push-up, but when she can’t crack the cap on a recalcitrant bottle of tonic, I get to lay on thick the manly, the macho, the chivalrous — taking the bottle from her with a “Let me give you a hand with that, little lady.” And I twist off the screw cap, grinning back at the pleasant hiss.
I wish everybody could play so carefree, dismantling the roles, delousing the lousy limitations of words and taking the deep sting out of the meanings they are rigged to convey. And I wish everyone could have this pot of pasta I make for her sometimes when she is stressed out: Scratchy Husband Pasta, as it’s known in our easygoing vernacular.
It’s just spaghetti. And a few things that are always on hand: cheese, garlic, pepper, chile flakes and olive oil. But when I find her extra destabilized, under exceptional duress and particularly inconsolable, they have a way of coming together that somehow acts like a tranquilizer. A wholesome, non-benzo, non-opio, pure-carbo salve for the frazzled and the freaked out. She eats well, feels well and then sleeps well.'>>>
https://www.nytimes.com/2018/08/15/magazine/pasta-cure-stress-spaghetti.html?
Scratchy Husband Pasta
https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1019483-scratchy-husband-pasta
= new reply since forum marked as read
Hold out for tagliatelle at least 
