It would be the most spoiled thing a prince could say to someone once homeless, that he lost his interest in meals around the same time he gave up on feasts. When frantic with mania or dulled by depression, or in the even-humored stretches where he hasn't built the habit, the necessity of a food is a distance annoyance at best, nothing to look forward to the way he looks forward to breaking Galahad's fast or approving the results of his baking practice. Talking about the food, however, makes it interesting again, as he considers the question¹. "There were herbs. Dill, I think -- the leaves have a distinctive shape -- and mint. And a crisp, green vegetable, with a refreshing sort of flavor."

¹ He could stand to have a test taste with friends. No, shots with Crowley don't count.