Bruce didn't drink. He couldn't say 'not at all', because although he preferred not to be intoxicated, and not to have certain things in his system - not to mention he hated not being in full control of his senses - he did want to have a tolerance for the stuff. And so on extremely rare occasions, he allowed himself to do what he said he did nearly every other day of the year: he got drunk.
He liked Kryptonian Ale for its strength. The rarity with which he drank made building up a tolerance difficult, but the ale was perfect for his needs, strong enough to get even Clark drunk - something that amused him to no end, in and of itself.
And, since it was Tony's birthday, it seemed like the perfect way to celebrate.
The pies made Bruce smile, even though it looked more like a smirk. He'd have to remember to do something nice for the woman to thank her for the trouble. "No - you bringing fifty pies to a SHIELD social function, when it was unnecessary and ridiculously naif, annoyed me. No one else brought anything - you realize that. You out Captain America'd Captain America." If there'd been any question in anyone's mind as to whom the bigger boy scout was before then, there was no question now.
But his tone was a relatively good-natured grumble, and he was still smirking that smirk that was more teasing than censuring, so any real annoyance he'd had was put aside. "Besides," he added. "Ma's pies aren't for just anyone. There's a difference between bringing pies to a Christmas dinner, or a dinner with work friends, or a birthday party, and feeding a contingent of spies you've never met."