It takes a minute to remember these bits of information. What a strange way to become aware of how much information a brain can hold and where it is all stored-- Ritchie can't even imagine how this guy handles it if he's not human and ageless.

Though he'd be lying if he said he never thought about it.

"Kwicky's," he snaps to attention rather than let his mind travel deeper into a wormhole, "that was it! I wanna say...1988? The creamy kind, not the peanut. That one tasted like shit."

His enthusiasm fades slightly in lieu of memories.

"For the jam out of Henry County, Georgia. I'm flexible about the bread. Maybe just a general Earth wheat?"