It's just mushrooms, Peter. There doesn't need to be a label on them.

[He pours the cooked mushrooms onto a plate, takes a plastic fork, and eats them even though they're literally right off the stove. He chews, frowning slightly. Michael skitters onto the table to watch, trying to avoid eye contact with Lambton.]

Hm. [A pause.] At least they're edible. I was afraid that, upon being introduced to a heat element, they'd become entirely inedible or even poisonous.

[.....]