Eating Authors: Nik Korpon

Last year was a crazy travel year, and not necessarily in a good way. Which is why I vowed to cut back — way back — on travel in 2017. And yet, these past few weeks have seen me zipping off to first San Juan and then Chicago.

And right now, as this posts, I’m in Reykjavik, soon to be in Helsinki, and then off to Stockholm before heading back to Reykjavik. Also, next month is promising a run up to Montreal. And at least three more out of town (and one more out of country) trips before December.

Not exactly a stellar example of cutting back.

And yet, despite being in Europe, EATING AUTHORS continues and this week’s guest, Nik Korpon, has a nice meal to recount from his own travels in Europe. He lives in Baltimore nowadays so maybe our paths will cross when I’m there next month for the city’s Book Festival).

Nic’s latest novel, The Rebellion’s Last Traitor, came out two months ago. The descripion had me hooked at the phrase “memory thieves.” Seriously, what else do you need?

LMS: Welcome, Nik. Speak to me of your best meal, please.

NK: The best meal I’ve ever had is actually a two-fer. The first was with my then-girlfriend (now wife). I was on break in grad school and flew from London to meet her in Spain for two weeks. We hadn’t seen each other in months. It was a simple meal, just bread, cheese, olives, and apples; we sat on the bank of the river that cuts through Seville, Spain, listening to the chatter of passersby, smelling the ever-present scent of oranges from the naranjos that line the streets.

But it was emblematic of our relationship, simple and contented. It didn’t hurt that Spain was the place I’ve ever stepped off the plane and just felt at home, like on a bone-deep level. I can remember the feeling vividly but could never explain it.

The second was four or five months later, another simple meal. I was living in a surf lodge in a small fishing village outside Lisbon, Portugal, editing my thesis (which became my first book). She came to stay with me for a month before starting grad school herself. Every few nights we’d get a pizza from the local pizzeria and a bottle of wine from the mercado, then sit on the rocks and watch the sun go down over the surf. That night I’d talked her into getting shrimp on the pizza, because why not? That’s what a lot of the locals ate. As the sun was going down, I asked her to marry me. She laughed and thought I was joking. Long story short, she said yes, and ten years later I’m still thinking about that day.

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