I made a point to have 'mini-adventures' on the road. In Tucson, that meant swinging by a massive airplane graveyard. A quick detour through the Grand Tetons was a Wyoming highlight. We stopped for cheese in Wisconsin and barbecue in South Carolina.
There is no real need for decorations when throwing a barbecue party - let the summer garden, in all its vibrant and luscious splendour, speak for itself.
American barbecue is all slow and low, you know, or low and slow, as they say down in the South, in Texas. But Korean barbecue is thinner cuts of meat.
Obviously, everyone's different, but I love just settling down and having a barbecue with my friends at the house.
I've been on a team that won the world championship of barbecue. But barbecue's interesting, because it's one of these cult foods like chili, or bouillabaisse. Various parts of the world will have a cult food that people get enormously attached to - there's tremendous traditions; there's secrecy.
We Harvard students live in a tourist attraction with movie stars and geniuses; we're recognized on all continents as the creme of the brulee, the syrup on the pancakes of greatness. Yet most of us complain like vegans at a barbecue cook-off.
Barbecue is an incredibly democratic food. It's cheaper than McDonald's in many places and far more delicious. On the other hand, the only reason it can be that cheap is they use commodity hogs, the worst of the worst, which is - you know, it's an industry kind of ruining North Carolina.
Every year, I do a New Year's day party at my home. I invite my staff and my friends and their kids. Around 40-50 people come by, and I do a barbecue and salads, steak and sushi, and also lots of cheese.
I felt like I couldn't meet a single rich person. Regardless of where I live, they don't want to talk to me. I threw a barbecue and invited the whole neighborhood, and nobody showed up.