Kaz's indifference to the flavor of food is something he's definitely cultivated over the years for the sake of exasperation and amusement. It started out in truth however, he's only in very recent years not dealt with food scarcity. From life on a failing farm to living by himself on the streets, he both never had the chance in his youth to develop a refined palate but also has the stubborn ideology that as long as he eats to keep going, food has done its job. It's hard for Kaz to let himself enjoy things that fall outside his accepted parameters. There are certain flavors and ingredients that he gravitates towards, like curry or potatoes, but admitting out loud that something is good or bad is baffling to him when he judges food ultimately on the function it performs.

It satisfies him to needle Adonis with his attitude though, and he could just say it's good, because it is clearly well-made, but that wouldn't be as amusing.

Twirling the noodles, he lifts a mouthful on the fork to eat. Holding up a hand, he waits until he's finished chewing and swallowing to answer. He might not have some manners, but he doesn't enjoy talking with his mouth full. "Flirting with me won't get me to change my opinion," he smirks at being called a heathen, because of course Kaz would take that as a compliment. His tone turns more thoughtful afterwards as he contemplates the question. "I've done some research, but I suppose any terminology or secret rules one wouldn't find elsewhere. Always call your boss 'chef' and never go market shopping in your chef's whites, things like that."