[ It's a little less puzzling to be offered it back, with everything the man has explained, so they don't hesitate as much as they normally might have to reach out and accept the jar. He hadn't particularly being vying for it, as they'd first imagined - and, if worst comes to worst, they can always just offer it back to him if he changes his mind. They'd rather be a pushover than get in a squabble. ]

Oh, really? I wouldn't know how to deal with the ingredients.

[ How does one know how much or how little of something to put in? How to cut it up? What temperature it needs to be cooked at? All the meals they've eaten in their life have mostly been prepared by someone else, so even though he says the basics are easy to pick up, when they think about it, they don't have the first clue of what goes on in the kitchen. ]

Or the knives... or the stove. [ They close both hands around the jar of fruit securely, eyes wandering over to the old stove and oven here in the parlor, only now becoming more aware of how little they know about re: working such a contraption. ] It seems a little... overwhelming. To learn.

[ Which is why they're eating this stuff, they guess. ]