Fruitcake comes to Kazakhstan

It’s a grand Southern Christmas tradition. One that was immortalized in the short story by Truman Capote that many of us read at some point in school. It may be a tradition in other parts of the country as well, but I don’t know that any writers from other parts of the country have a celebrated short story about said confection.

Grandmother and Granddad Jones sent me a fruitcake just after Christmas this year, and it finally arrived today. I also had two other Christmas packages waiting for me at the Post Office so it was a good day.

Some people love fruitcake. Some people love to make fun of fruitcake. To all those who fall in the latter category, I would recommend that you try a fruitcake from Collin Street Bakery in Texas. That’s where my fruitcake came from, and it was one of the most delicious things I’ve eaten in a while.

This was no baby cake, either. So I decided I should share it with my host family. After all, cultural exchange is a big part of what I’m doing here. When we finished dinner this evening, the fruitcake was dessert. It was the first time any of them had eaten fruitcake, and they thought it was great. They all want me to pass along their thanks for it, too. Thanks, Grandmother and Granddad!

For some time now I’ve felt like there are a lot of similarities between Kazakh people and the people of Appalachia. There are so many things about people back home and the people here that are similar. Often Kazakh people remind me of people I’ve seen or known back home. In fact, I’ve often felt that the key to the Melungeon mystery might be right here in Kazakhstan.

While we were eating the fruitcake tonight I believe I got further confirmation of our similarities. Inside the cake tin was a brochure for other baked goods the Collin Street Bakery sells. When my host mom pointed at the deep dish pecan pie and joked that we should ask for someone to send us one of those I knew they were just as Southern as I am.

Next test: RC Cola and Moon Pies.

Cutting up the cake