I am no Jolly (ho, ho, ho) Green Giant, but I must say this is the best frozen niblets corn I've ever had. Just don't ask me what it tastes like. I'm using the two-pound bag as an emergency ice pack, proving once again that improv skills come in just as handy on vacation as they do any comedy club stage.

I brought my twisted right knee (recent softball injury) with me to New Hampshire's deceptively rugged White Mountains. After two days of hiking a landscape with enough boulders to keep a thousand chain gangs busy, I move like an old-nag horse. The much-needed first-aid corn comes courtesy of the Appalachian Mountain Club, which operates a network of eight European-style huts scattered throughout the 770,000-acre White Mountain National Forest. My friend Martha and I are staying tonight at Lakes of the Clouds Hut, a high-altitude oasis that can feed and sleep 90 people. There's no ice machine on site. But there is a generator that produces enough juice to run a refrigerator, which, thankfully, is well stocked with frozen veggies. Sometimes strained ligaments are the mother of invention.

God bless these low-slung, wood-and-stone shelters. What a joy at the end of a long, grimy day to rest your weary head under a roof, to be warm and dry and in the company of flush toilets, running water, and a kitchen staff that whips up splendid full-course meals.