There's something not normal about you if you're writing a book about yourself, or about anything. And if you're the kind of person who can deal with being recognized by strangers and if that's tolerable or pleasing to you, and not immediately terrifying, that's not normal either.

As you move through this life...you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life - and travel - leaves marks on you.

If anything is good for pounding humility into you permanently, it's the restaurant business.

Good food and good eating are about risk.

My love of soft, runny cheese - it's impossible to resist.

We know, for instance, that there is a direct, inverse relationship between frequency of family meals and social problems. Bluntly stated, members of families who eat together regularly are statistically less likely to stick up liquor stores, blow up meth labs, give birth to crack babies, commit suicide, or make donkey porn. If Little Timmy had just had more meatloaf, he might not have grown up to fill chest freezers with Cub Scout parts.

People everywhere have been very, very good to me, whether I'm with or without cameras.