Glancing at the ingredients remaining on the counter top, Ianto made an educated guess of what type of stew she'd been preparing. One that had the taste of home. He could sympathise, having often felt the pang for the familiar himself.
"You were lucky to find it. The last time I tried to get to that market, I ended up walking into a deli that was..." Ianto took down two mugs from the shelf, pausing as he tried to find the right word to grasp the atmosphere of the place, then decided there really wasn't one.
"Let's just say I didn't think a place as derelict as that could still exist without being condemned as a national health hazard," he mournfully recalled, setting the mugs down next to the pot.