"I am a God. Yes, worship." He repeated in an amused, if slightly exasperated smile, before his attention was drawn to the stew and that fresh bread waiting for him at the table.
"I'll give you that it smells good." He began in his assessment as he slipped from the counter where he'd made himself at home to round it, to the table where he pulled up a chain to sit now for the sake of food- and it truly did smell good, almost enough se to make his stomach growl.
He didn't rush of course, never rushed his food, always the finest manners and control, taking a moment to tuck a section of hair back behind his own ear out of the way, and to ensure his chair was properly tucked beneath the table before he finally picked up the spoon with a nod of thanks. He made sure to get a little of everything in that first bite, a little broth, some of the meat, the vegetables and potato, the broth-swollen grains of barley, slipping it between his lips to chew-- and ah, it did taste like home.. He chewed slowly, savoring- perhaps not quite as deep, earthy in flavor as the stew that on occasion used to graze the evening tables on Asgard, but certainly close enough, its sister in taste.
"..You are an impressively good cook, Pietro.." He conceded through a pleased sigh as his spoon dipped back in for a little more, a brief smile turned the other's way.