He sighs on both counts. The sad reality is that the owners of the place are either dead or long gone, run off by walkers or bandits; he tries not to think about it too long, as if their luck might take a turn for the worse if he does. Shit'll hit the fan inevitably, like always, but they can hope for a longer smoother ride until then.

"Next time we're on a run I'll keep an' eye out. Figure there's plenty where that came from seein' as grabbin' the pepper ain't exactly a priority these days."

He feels spoiled with just a little taste of salt, but spices? Now that's fancy eating.