There's something unifying about the human desire to eat a goddamn potato. Something about the basic starch is just so life-affirming and satisfying, similar to bread but without all the required processing first. Root doesn't know this sparks a reference, but potatoes feel universal to her.

"Very sensible," she says approvingly, then reaches out to grab a sweater and pull it on over the thermal. She's going to need plenty of layers. "I don't have the patience for that, but I'll definitely take advantage of it. How's this work? Is it all sunshine and roses communist paradise, or do we have a barter economy?"

Or maybe somewhere in between, but her point is she's not making assumptions. Newcomers getting a free meal doesn't mean that happens in perpetuity, and Root wants to position herself for survival, learn how things work and get the resources she needs to function in this microcosm of a real society.