Daria Lavelle: Savouring the beyond

A DELICIOUSLY ORIGINAL supernatural thriller that reads like it could be a script for a mesmerising Punchdrunk production, Daria Lavelle’s Aftertaste blends food and ghosts with romance and menace. It’s lively, it’s colourful, it’s funny. It’s a feast of a story, boasting engaging characters and a riveting plot.

The novel’s beating heart is Kostya, who emigrated to the US from Ukraine with his family when he was a child. Ostracised by kids at school for his otherness and his ‘weird’ food, Kostya had a difficult childhood. When his father died suddenly, his sense of isolation increased. Grief-stricken, 11-year-old Kostya experienced an extraordinary sensation – out of the blue he could taste pechonka, his father’s favourite meal. Is the ghost of his beloved dad responsible? It doesn’t stop there, he began to taste unfamiliar meals. Were all these aftertastes a signal from the afterlife?

Not only is Aftertaste a charming, magical and pacy novel, it taps into the profound power and comfort of food, cooking and eating, binding us to memory and identity. Food is the thread that weaves through our most sacred rituals and mundane routines. From the Last Supper, where bread and wine became eternal symbols of sacrifice and communion, to Death Row final meals – desperate attempts at comfort and agency – what we eat is another level by which we communicate about ourselves.

The smell of baking can transport us to a grandmother’s kitchen. The taste of a homemade noodle soup can calm nostalgia better than any photo. And yes, every year, on the anniversary of my father’s death, I make his unsurpassable spaghetti sauce. It takes a day to prepare and simmer, and the flavour is entirely wrapped around my father – from painstakingly chopping his carrots and onions, his patience at the stove, his pleasure in making my favourite meal for me. The ritual isn’t just about remembrance; it’s about keeping him alive in a way I know would make him smile. If only I had Kostya’s supernatural gift…

I caught up with Daria to tell us about how Aftertaste came about…

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Farhana: Congratulations on your cleverly original debut novel. Death, grief, food, family, love and ghosts are central to the plot. Can you give us your elevator pitch?

Daria: Thank you so much for the kind introduction! Aftertaste is a genre-bending book – part ghost story, part sweeping romance, and part culinary adventure. It centres on a man named Konstantin Duhovny, who loses his dad at a young age and develops the ability to taste the presence of ghosts through their most meaningful foods – a sensation he calls his ‘aftertastes’. When Kostya discovers that cooking an aftertaste can actually bring a spirit back to the Living Realm for one last meal, he sets out to open a New York City restaurant serving closure. Along the way he meets Maura, a beautiful and enigmatic woman haunted by her own past, and as things heat up between them and in the budding restaurant he’s working to open, Kostya is too blinded by his desires – love, success, connection – to see the danger looming in the afterlife. 

What were your influences?

I’ve always deeply loved food and cooking; it’s something I’m passionate about in a way I don’t think I’ll ever tire of. There’s always a new restaurant to discover, a new recipe, a new ingredient. There’s something about food writing that’s transportive, too; as a writer, taste is a descriptive category used far less often than, say, what a character sees or hears, and at the same time it’s also extremely evocative and visceral. Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential had a huge impact on me; I was delighted by everything from the banter to the frenetic pace to the inside look at what goes on behind the kitchen doors. And when I thought about an obsession that could sustain my interest for the length of time it takes to write a novel, food and restaurants were at the top of my list. As a writer, I lean into the speculative and supernatural, and once I had the kernel of the idea for Aftertaste – a story about a chef whose food can summon spirits – it just felt so natural to me, mashing these things together. The courage to dive headfirst into that combination of everyday and magical certainly owes a debt to writers like Karen Russell, Kelly Link, and Aimee Bender, who all do it with such ease.

The afterlife is a provocative subject. What drew you to writing about it?

I’ve always been fascinated by different interpretations and visions for what life after death looks like, perhaps because no one who actually knows enough to corroborate can report back, so imaging an afterlife is just pure, unlimited creation. It also makes death far less frightening for me, to envision something more when we go than just an ending. When I was around ten or eleven years old, I had two really formative experiences involving fictional afterlives. The movie What Dreams May Come had come out, and I watched it over and over, to the point where I could recite the lines. Parts of it made me weep uncontrollably, every time (it’s so sad in the most beautiful way), but I kept coming back because the various experiences of each character’s afterlife were so fascinating to me. The second is the cult classic adventure video game Grim Fandango, where you play an afterlife travel agent working to help souls move on and discover who is trying to undermine that process; it’s so funny and irreverent and full of wit and charm, while also being affecting and exciting, and it became my whole personality for a while. And then of course there’s ancient Greek mythology and Dante’s Inferno in classic literature, and modern pop culture classics like Beetlejuice, and Onward and Coco. If it offers a glimpse into the lands of the dead, I’ve probably seen and loved it, and it was so thrilling to create my own afterlife mythology in Aftertaste.

When did you start working on Aftertaste? Any insights you can share on your writing process and character development?

The idea first came to me in 2013, but it took me years to gather enough insight into the world and characters to dive into writing it as a novel. I’d tried it out as a short story at first, but the idea felt so much bigger; it couldn’t be contained in a short format. When I finally entered an MFA program in fiction, in 2019, I knew I wanted this idea to be my thesis project. I tend not to write using outlines; I much prefer to start with a high-concept idea and let that guide me into character and plot, but because I was in a novel-writing class, I was required to turn in an outline. I dashed it off sort of as an experiment, in one sitting, and I discovered a lot of interesting things that had been percolating in my brain. First, that this was a love story, not only in the romantic sense, but in the sense of being about all the ways we love – our family, our friends, our partners, our kids – and how food is an expression of that. Second, that I wanted to include multiple POVs from the living and the dead. Third, that I did not want this book about death and loss to be one-note; it might be easy to make it purely sad or poignant, but I wanted to put humour in it; I wanted it to feel like eating at a favourite restaurant – delicious and exciting and full of life. The end result differs considerably from that first outline, since I do still tend to follow my characters’ whims and lean into their surprises and detours, but those three organising principles stayed the same.

Tell us about how you developed the idea, the settings and structure.

The idea came almost fully formed during a writing session. Someone recently pointed out to me that it arrived to me much in the same way Kostya’s aftertastes appear to him – all at once, fully formed, without explanation. It was this image that I couldn’t get out of my head: a chef, meticulously plating a dish in a rundown Hell’s Kitchen apartment, and a beautiful, glowing spirit passing through a wall, ready to eat it. I knew immediately – just from that scene – it had to be set in New York City. My lifelong love of the NY culinary scene provided a basis to pull from – I knew I wanted to include the entire spectrum of culinary delights in Manhattan, from high-end, Michelin-starred restaurants to local hole-in-the-walls and secret speakeasies to corner bodegas. I also knew I wanted to include my own take on foodie favorites, like food tours and cooking competitions and family recipes. The structure arrived fairly early on; I wanted to alternate voices between Kostya’s main story, and first-person interludes from other characters. In my head, I thought of it as a tiered cake, with each ‘Part’ (there are 5) being a new layer, and Kostya’s story serving as the sponge, the foundation throughout, while the interludes were like the filling, giving each part a different flavour.

Food can take on multiple meanings as an immigrant. It’s at once home and familiarity and comfort, a way of preserving your heritage, and also a painful giveaway to other people that you’re an outsider.”

You’ve created an ensemble cast of engaging, extraordinary and likeable characters. Kostya’s story arc is fascinating – an immigrant who was picked on as a child, who goes on to embrace his heritage as an adult. His ancestry is an important part of his character. You too are originally from Ukraine. Why was this important to feature in Aftertaste?

Thank you so much! I’m so glad the characters lingered with you. I wanted Kostya’s experience as a Ukrainian and an American to reflect my experience, especially how food can take on multiple meanings as an immigrant. It’s at once home and familiarity and comfort, these flavours a way of preserving your heritage, and also a painful giveaway to other people that you’re an outsider and unlike them. It’s a universal experience among diaspora kids, especially, and I felt this keenly as a child in my school cafeteria, where it felt like everyone but me had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. Growing up this way means straddling two worlds, and for Kostya that translates into much of his adulthood, where he’s similarly straddling the worlds of the living and the dead and not feeling fully comfortable in either. While I was drafting, the war in Ukraine began, and it shifted my relationship with Konstantin; I wanted him to embody not only me and my individual experience, but the strength and resilience and courage I saw in everyday Ukrainians, and in my own family and friends – that selflessness to sacrifice everything to protect the people he loves.

Maura is a vivid, dark character. She’s complex and funny, too. The dialogue between Kostya and Maura is witty and sexy. How challenging did you find writing humour?

I lean towards humour in my everyday life, so I love writing it as well, and there are many places in the book where I inserted myself to get a laugh, sort of breaking the fourth wall, the author leaning in with a wisecrack in the parentheticals. Maura’s particular humour has an edge to it, because she uses sarcasm and wit to hide behind, to deflect away from her real emotions. I loved getting to write scenes between Kostya and Maura because they’re all so charged. We see them argue and disagree; we watch them flame hot because they’re attracted to one another; we see them get comfortable and reveal their respective ghosts in a very vulnerable way.

Kostya, at his heart, is deeply empathic; and empathy is the same muscle I flex as a writer when trying to understand and embody my characters.”

Are there any parallels between you and Kostya and/or Maura?

I think each of them take a little facet of my personality, and then amplify it. Kostya’s culture and immigrant experience is rooted in mine, and also his deep appreciation for the nuances of flavour. I think, at his heart, he’s also deeply empathic; it’s what enables him to make the dishes that can reconnect people, and empathy is the same muscle I flex as a writer when trying to understand and embody my characters. Maura is more reckless than I am, but we’re both very interested in the uncanny and inexplicable; we’re believers. Much like me, she also hates asking for help, and wants to be the one to shoulder the weight, even when it’s clearly crushing her.

Frankie is another memorable, endearing character. He’s Kostya’s best friend, someone who pushes Kostya forward. He must have been great fun to work on! Tell us about him, and his dynamic with Kostya.

Oh, Frankie is just the best! Don’t tell the others, but he was hands down my favourite to write. He leapt off the page at me from his very first paragraph, so much so that I had to write him into the main storyline (there was an early version where he only existed as the tour guide!). He has a big personality, the sort of person who is the life of every party, who will talk to anyone without second-guessing or doubting himself, who just drips magnetism and charisma. At the same time, he’s very much a New Yorker, and tells it like it is, especially to Kostya. Like any true friend, he encourages him, but he’s also there with a wake-up call whenever ‘Bones’ needs one.   

Food – from recipes and ingredients, all those herbs and spices, dishes, techniques, kitchen activity and anticipation – is something to savour in your novel. You write about it enticingly; your descriptions are often mouth-watering; all those sauces and salts! Are you someone who prefers to cook or to eat?

Both! I love to cook for others, especially warm, hearty meals like stews or soups or pastas. I especially love making a dessert for my kids, because they eat things they find delicious with their whole bodies. At the same time, there’s no greater feeling than being fed; it’s a whole other level of being cared for to have a beautiful meal made for you by someone. It reminds me of my parents, of being in their kitchen and eating something they’ve prepared, and just feeling the love and nourishment in every bite.

What is it about food that triggers memory?

Scientifically, they say that smell – which is inextricable from taste – is extremely closely tied to memory recall in the brain. But emotionally, I think food summons memory because it serves as a sort of totem – a memento you can not only revisit but re-experience. There’s a quote from Anthony Bourdain’s Les Halles Cookbook that, roughly paraphrased, says that the most memorable meals are as much about the people you ate them with as they are about the food, and I’ve found that to be true. Meaning and connection cement this neural bond, I think, between what we’re eating and experiencing and the way it will come back to us when we recreate that meal. It’s Proust’s Madeleine run through an MRI.

Aftertaste is visually written – from kitchens, tattoos, secret clubs, hidden bars through to the world beyond life and the gorgeously painted Food Hall. Do you visualise before you write, or do your words conjure it up?

I discover as I write; I go in with a broad-strokes mental image, but it’s in the writing and the play that I find so much of the pleasure of creation, and the details come to life. I had so much fun incorporating pieces of the real-life places that I love in New York City into the fictionalised locations in the book!

So many cultures bridge the gap between the living and the dead with a meal, whether it’s honouring the departed with a repass dinner, or leaving offerings to satisfy hungry ghosts.”

What forms of research did you undertake for your book?

I did a lot of research into ingredients and recipes in order to create an immersive, realistic experience of Kostya’s aftertastes; living in a place like New York City, with so many people from so many different culinary traditions, it was really important to me to showcase a variety of ingredients and cuisines. I researched restaurants and the experience in professional kitchens (including kitchen talk!); some of this involved going to eat at restaurants to observe (the best form of research), some involved asking my cousin, a professional chef, to look over my pages, and some of it came from reading books by chefs where they get into the experience of working the line. I also researched the myriad traditions around the world involving food and death; there are so many cultures that bridge the gap between the living and the dead with a meal, whether it’s honouring the departed with a repass dinner, celebrating the reunion of spirits and their families with an ofrenda during Dia de Los Muertos, or leaving offerings to satisfy hungry ghosts. No one tradition defines the mythology in Aftertaste, but it’s in conversation with many of them. I also did research into the psychic senses, the toxicity of pufferfish, the original game cabinets for Ms. Pac-Man, antique subway stations, and obscure Japanese operas, to name a few – to write and build a world is to research!

Kostya starts his professional culinary journey at the Michelin-starred Saveur Fare, run by celebrity chef Michel Beauchêne. Is Michel based on a real chef?

Michel was fun to write because he’s clearly passionate but also incredibly exacting, often to the point of putting his food and restaurant standards above all else. While aspects of his personality are loosely inspired by several people, he’s largely fictional, though Saveur Fare itself is based on a cross between Eleven Madison Park, Le Bernadin, and the aesthetic in the now-closed Park Avenue Summer.

I love the concept of clairgustance! Tell us more…

We’ve all heard of clairvoyance, or the ability to ‘see’ from the other side (which is a portmanteau of ‘clair’ or clear and ‘voyance’ or vision in French), but each of the 5 senses – touch, sight, hearing, smell, and taste – have an associated clarity, or psychic ability. Clairaudience is hearing from the other side. And clairgustance is tasting. I first came across this as a single line in a now-lost-to-the-internet Wikipedia article, and it sent a whole-body shiver through me because it was the answer to what the chef in that original vision was experiencing!

And the same goes for reincarnosh. Tell us about the importance of this form of aftertaste in the ghost community?

Hah, reincarnosh still makes me laugh! A reincarnosh, a magic meal, an aftertaste – they’re all synonymous, and from the perspective of the spirit world, what Konstantin is experiencing (his ‘aftertastes’) are a sort of Holy Grail – a known way for a ghost to return for a visit to the living realm. Unfortunately, while the meal that could guide them back appears easily to Konstantin, the spirits in the afterlife have a much harder time determining which of the many thousands of foods they’ve consumed over their lifetime might be their golden ticket. It’s why Konstantin becomes so important to those of them who are looking for a way back, and why it’s a dangerous game they’re playing – circumventing the afterlife’s own rules with Kostya’s mouth as a loophole.

The set up at DUH, Kostya’s restaurant, is eye-opening, especially the view from the kitchen onto the defunct subway station. Does such a place really exist?

The subway station is in fact real! You can visit it in Manhattan. But the restaurant whose subterranean windows look out onto it sadly exists only in my imagination. But there is a tiny speakeasy on a hidden corner of an NYC subway platform that you can visit if you’re longing to channel that vibe: instagram.com/lanoxenyc.

Excitingly, Aftertaste is also being developed for screen. Tell us about the process, and how involved you are in adapting the script.

It was an absolute dream to hear how passionate the studio was, especially since it was happening at the same time as our publishing auction. I know readers are always eager to hear more, but sadly I’m not able to go into any further details about the process at this stage – but I will say that I’m a writer who works with images and visualises scenes in my mind as I draft, and knowing that Hollywood recognised that and saw how it could be translated to the screen was hugely thrilling for me.

What is your own relationship with Ukraine? Do you still have family there? 

I was born in Kyiv, and my family emigrated to the US when I was two. Food, language, and telling family stories – all things that happen in the mouth – are how we kept our homeland close as I was growing up. My uncle and cousins still live in Ukraine, as do many close family friends who I think of as extended family. 

What would Kostya make of current world events, especially in light of the Trump administration’s stance on Ukraine and its relations with President Zelensky?

It’s an impossible thing to watch a war unfold from far away, to follow reports on the news and know that people you love are in constant danger and so many people’s lives have been torn apart. He would feel helpless, and scared, and frustrated. Kostya is a character driven by his desire to help others; he wants to do what’s right, even if it’s at great risk to himself. I will also add that the book is set in 2017, before the war began – but the choice Kostya makes about his gift and how he will use it at the end was a very conscious one on my part, knowing what was ahead for our world.

You made me pause, as I too have an aftertaste. Like Kostya, it’s a recipe that brings back my own Papa. Do you have an aftertaste? Can you share, or would you prefer to keep it personal?

My aftertaste is incredibly specific! It’s the chocolate cog from the menu of Le Jules Verne restaurant on the Eiffel Tower in Paris, circa 2012, eaten in a warm, pouring rain. It’s the dessert my husband and I shared right before he led me out onto a private balcony outside the restaurant and asked me to marry him. I said yes; it began to pour (Thunder! Lightning! Romance!), like the sky itself was celebrating; we were drenched and blissfully happy. It’s a taste I’d always come back for.

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Daria Lavelle writes fiction, most of which features at least one impossible thing. Her stories have appeared in Dark Matter, The Deadlands and Dread Machine, among others. She holds a BA from Princeton University and an MFA from Sarah Lawrence College, and enjoys opera, escape rooms, and checking restaurants off her bucket list. She currently lives in New Jersey with her husband, their hyperactive golden doodle, and their three magical children. Aftertaste is her first novel, published by Bloomsbury.
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Author photo by Caroline Baptista

Farhana Gani is a book scout for film and TV, and a founding editor of Bookanista.
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