"Like chewing on shiny wood chips," Bucky agreed, head tipping a little. The smile was new, he thought. Not one he'd seen before from her. It suited her. Then again, she was the Capitol's favorite for a reason - there wasn't a lot you could find that wouldn't suit her. "Food everywhere, and they look for ways to make it taste like garbage before they toss it out." Leave it to the fucking Capitol.
Bucky got angry sometimes - at the waste, at the ridiculous trends and the abundance. But he rarely looked at the food itself with guilt. If he didn't have it, they weren't going to send it back to 8 or 12 or anywhere else that needed to eat. It'd end up thrown out, rotting away. So he might as well eat what he liked, when he felt like eating, while he was in the Capitol. Or at least that was the way he'd learned to cope and see it. There were only so many ways they could divide themselves up, and they all picked their particular hang-ups (or more like, their hang-ups chose them), that wasn't one of his. He had plenty of others.
"Haven't had that one," he admitted. "I'll go grab spoons and napkins and something to drink and try it." Bucky shrugged, half-smiling. "I could always do that, when we had enough to buy to make them. Ma always had them for our birthdays, and whoever's birthday it was didn't cook, everyone else did. So I did pancakes. My skinned squirrel still comes out pretty mealy, but I can probably try to hunt one down if you've got a craving."