There were some old memories in the explanation that Gabriel had given to her on their asteroid reenactment: Some ancient, some less than a century ago. One of them had been the war. France. She'd wanted to go to Havana when it was all over. His mention of Cuban food makes her smile fondly, but she'll let it remain as it is for now while she puts a bag of flour into a Ziploc to keep the bugs out.

She chuckles at Sam and Gabriel's banter, and grins. "I do occasionally think that the only reason you survived Junior year is because of me and the Thai place down the block from our apartment." The flour is put into its new home before Jessica turns to face her soulmates. Whoever came up with that idea and then chose to rip them all apart should be flogged. And not in a good way. While we're at it, they get a hairshirt, too.

"As far as cooking goes, these are all details that can be figured out later. Trust me: Dean is going to cook once in a while whether he wants to or not. Gadreel and Jo are more than welcome to help or watch. I have a feeling Jo might not do too badly--she did her fair share of work at the Roadhouse, yeah?"

Grabbing a dishtowel, she playfully swats Sam's behind. "Alright, you two. Thank you for your help. Now go back to correcting the encyclopedias. I'll start dinner."