The term BBQ takes on a whole new meaning in South America. Instead of A1 steak sauce and cans of Bud Light, cases of wine and nine different courses of meat are the norm. I want the boyz to appreciate every side of Argentina, not just its ski slopes, so I decide to take them to my local friend's traditional Asado.

The Argentines take great pride in their Asados. Preparing the meat, predominantly high-grade grass-fed beef, isn’t as simple as flipping a spatula. It’s a time-consuming process that requires hard woods to establish a consistent bed of coals. The hot embers are meticulously separated to maintain the proper temperature ensuring the meat is cooked to perfection.

We feast on blood sausage, a delicacy whose name says it all, and sweet breads, whose name doesn’t. But since none of the boyz ask what sweet breads really are—they’re not sweet and they’re certainly not bread but they melt in your mouth like butter candy—I decide what they don’t know can’t hurt ‘em.