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We know Ruth wrote Comfort Me with Apples, but for us pasta is more consoling. So today, as we nervously await the outcome of the election, we lunched on big bowls of spaghetti tossed with a meaty, long-simmered sauce. As we slurped up the tomato-coated strands, our anxiety melted away—felt better than Xanax. Cook something to comfort yourselves tonight, dear friends.

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