Every year, just after Thanksgiving, writes Capote, his cousin would wake up and officially announce, "It's fruitcake weather!" Out would come the fruitcake fund, a year's collection of dimes and nickels, and off the two friends would go to collect the ingredients: candied fruits—cherries, citron, ginger, canned pineapple, raisins—vanilla and other spices, butter, and walnuts. They'd pay a visit to Mr. HaHa Jones, the local bootlegger, for the all-important whiskey. Once the ingredients were gathered, Capote and his cousin would head home to the kitchen where a big, black stove glowed. "Eggbeaters whirl, spoons spin round in bowls of butter and sugar," Capote writes, "vanilla sweetens the air, ginger spices it; melting, nose-tingling odors saturate the kitchen…." I feel like I'm right there with them, sharing their delight in the exotic, jewel-like fruits, the mysterious spices, the sinful whiskey.