We started talking about FAT5 because we noticed something simple and slightly strange: the experiences that stay with us the longest are rarely just about the food, the art, or the performance itself. They’re about the moment we were in when they happened.

An incredible dish can feel completely forgettable if you’ve just received bad news. A brilliant theater piece can suddenly become unbearable if it hits a nerve you weren’t expecting. Context changes everything.

I learned that lesson early in my life in theatre. The first show I ever co-directed was about a bitter divorce. I was deep in rehearsals, excited about the staging, the rhythm of the scenes, the collaboration with a close friend. I was so absorbed in the creative process that I missed something painfully obvious: my parents were going through a divorce at the same time. On opening night my mother sat in the third row, right in the middle—the best seat in the house. I remember glancing at her during the show and seeing the look on her face. Disgust, discomfort, something much heavier than criticism. Only then did the connection land for me.

By any objective standard, the production probably wasn’t a FAT5. But for me, it absolutely was. It was the first time I had co-directed a show. It was the first time I experienced that electric feeling of creating something with another person and watching it come alive in front of an audience. For my friend, the same production was also a FAT5—but for a completely different reason. During that show she met the person who would later become her life partner. He was the producer of the event.

Same play. Same room. Completely different experiences.

So if peak experiences are so subjective, why are we documenting them?

Partly, to be honest, because it’s a little selfish. We want to remember them. Writing them down is a way to hold on to the moments that made us feel something real, and a way to come back to them later.

But there’s another reason: sharing experiences is one of the simplest ways humans connect. When we tell someone about a meal that stunned us, a piece of art that made us pause, or a performance that stayed with us for days, we’re really saying, this moved me—maybe it will move you too.

There’s also a small cultural experiment behind FAT5. It highlights the moments when someone, whether a chef, an artist, an actor, or a host, creates something truly special. The hope is that by pointing out these moments, we encourage more of them. It is also a simple way to say: “thank you. You have touched us in a way that made a difference.” 

And finally, FAT5 isn’t just about our experiences. We hope it nudges you to notice and collect your own: The unforgettable dish. The piece of music that stopped you mid-conversation. The performance that made you feel something you didn’t expect.

FAT5 is simply our small way of paying attention to those moments and remembering that life is often at its best when we do. Our secret hope is to live a life that will be documented as a FAT5. 

So check it out.