"I want my Orange Curacao!"

That personally famous line from the Masterpiece Theater version of "The Pallisers" echoes in my mind as I write here that John seems to be undergoing a small attack of The Gout.  (The dying scion of the Palliser clan was a gouty old goat who was demanding something gouty old goats can't have -- since he was dying, it seemed very cruel to deny him, IMHO.)  Anyway, rest assured that John is NOT dying; but his big toe on the left foot is very swollen and sore.  He's done his I-net research and is keeping his foot elevated as much as possible -- looks a little silly hopping around with one leg in the air, but c'est la vie.)  We are now relegated to eating vegetables and a lot of stuff with no interesting seasonings -- and worst of all, no glorious late-summer fresh fruits, which we were gorging ourselves on when we first got up here: golden raspberries, ripe melon, magnificently sweet peaches, etc etc.  I went down to the farmers' market yesterday and bought a ton of veggies, but had to be content with sampling all the fruit on my own.  (Their Kettle Korn ain't too bad, neither!)