"Well, I wouldn't say it's really stress cooking... no, no, it's stress cooking."

There's no use denying it. He's gone through every ingredient he stored up for cooking.

"I like having something to do with my hands when I'm... unhappy with something." He is a basket case right now. "And now I have enough food to feed an army."

Tribble, purr harder. You're not making the anxiety go away.

"You can bring over friends if you want. I'm hoping to at least get through all the batter." So much batter. Crepes, popovers, pancakes, batter for everything.

He has a problem.