Aigul, my Zhetysai mother, is a bundle of energy. She is eager to teach me Kazakh—"now write it down!" she directs me after we've rehearsed a new vocabulary word. And she's equally glad to welcome me into her kitchen as she expertly rolls a perfect circle of pasta dough for one of many pasta-based Kazakh meals. Then she and her three daughters (2 Kazakh, 1 American) sit around the kitchen floor, laughing and folding ground beef into cute little "pilmien".
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