I hope you’re hungry for another obscure French saying to live your life by, because I’ve got just the one

C'est la vie!

Never walk past a sausage sizzle without getting a hot dog. It’s a metaphor, yes, but it’s also a very real life philosophy for how my girlfriend lives her life. Just had breakfast? About to have breakfast? Feeling sad? Feeling happy? Feeling full? There is genuinely no reason not to get a hot dog, because there is always a hot dog shaped gaping chasm in your stomach. Frankly, there’s always a hot dog shaped gaping chasm in your life. I’m convinced her ideal date would be a trip to the Bunnings sausage sizzle stand, a quick browse in the hardware store and then another hot dog to see it out.

I love it. I love it so much that it’s joined the unofficial list of rules I have for life. Kind of like Jordan Peterson’s list I suppose, but more abstract and less obsessed with the weird, unsubstantiated gender claims. Less rules per say, more values and vibes; little nonsensical things I’ve collected across the years that have undeniably improved the way I live and engage with my life.

If you’re in a car crossing the bridge, turn up the music and wind down the windows. You never regret an ocean swim. Always wave when someone lets you merge and flash your lights at the next car to pass a speed camera (I don’t care if it’s illegal, it’s sisterhood). You’re never so time-poor that you cannot admire the sky. The only correct way to measure cheese, salt and garlic is with your heart. Never walk past a hot dog stand without getting a hot dog. They’re not prescriptive, but they literally never fail to ground me in gratitude, as painfully earnest as that may sound. I suppose that they are the nondescript and greatly revered “little things” which are allegedly what life is all about. I think of them more as full fat living.

My best friend is a certified white girl, and as such owns a pastel print with a naked woman on it. Next to the woman is a pig who she appears to be walking, as well as the words “Le goût est dans la graisse”. It’s been sitting in my living room for the past year as she gallivants across the other side of the country, and I’ve come to really love it. The print is part of a collaboration between Danish graphic designer, Peter Kjaer Anderson and Daniel Letz, a chef who owns both a Danish restaurant and French specialty grocery store. It sits in a broader collection of similar artworks which have been described as “a beautiful mix of gastronomy and graphic design” and in my opinion are peak European-inspired-interiors-pinterest-board-core.

Obviously I love it. I am the prime target market for European - inspired - interiors - pinterest - board - core content. I also love the French specialty grocery store the guy owns (although I’ve never been, it sounds like the sort of place I could spend an entire paycheck on fig jam and die penniless but better than everyone else); and I love Letz himself (who I’ve never met but looks like he’d hate no sugar soft drink and measures cheese, salt and garlic with his heart). Most of all though, I love the words. “Le goût est dans la graisse”. Its English translation means “The taste sits in the grease” which comes as no surprise given the context of the print. The taste does sit in the grease, quite literally. Especially in France where good food is integral to their lives, culture and frankly, overall well being, and where you’d be shot on spot if you rocked up with a low-calorie olive oil spray alternative..

But if you’re a retired English lit student with no ability to leave things at face value, you might say that the quote means a little more than that. You might say that, yes, it’s a saying that’s applicable to food and cooking; but also to life more broadly. “The taste sits in the grease” is really another way to say full fat living. It’s a reminder, if you will, of where to find the good bits. And in my experience, the good bits are often found in the glimpses.

They come best when you engage with life wholeheartedly and they're often small and cumulative. They’re the first duck beneath the waves on your morning swim; the moment your sister makes your best friend laugh so hard she cries. They’re the morning light peeking through the blinds to make the dust dance; the string of cheese on your pizza, walking home giddy from a first date and finding the perfect shell. They’re saying yes to a sunrise hike even when you spent too long on your phone last night, and the feeling at the end of a really good movie. They’re easy to miss, especially in our pressure-cooked, overly-scheduled lives. They require you to engage with life properly. To pay attention. Full fat living requires you to actively feel and taste and participate, rather than just observe passively.

And sometimes, actively engaging means sitting in the discomfort, too. As our Lord and Savior Brene Brown says, wholehearted living can only happen when you honour the good and the bad parts! Like grease, life is messy and visceral and trying to minimise the breadth of human experience serves only to dull the overall adventure. Besides, I really do believe that the emotions we don’t like - grief, sadness, heartbreak, anger, overwhelm - are just indicators of the fact that we care. Caring is good! As a society, we should be caring more! Bring back Care Bears, but as a social theory! To me, that’s a symptom of full-fat living. And besides, training your brain to find the good bits inherently means the good bits will come quicker and taste better and be easier to find.

So a hot dog might not solve all your problems. It might not be part of your diet or fit in the Saturday schedule. But you know, it might bring you a delicious little morsel of joy! It might act as a building block for your own serotonin tower or the beginning of a new tradition. Or alternatively, a hot dog might solve all your problems. It seems like a pretty sacred experience, as the partner of a frequent hot dog consumer. The taste is in the grease, after all! Life is for living. Hot dogs are for eating. I don’t make all the rules - just this one.