grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

So Haute!

By

Elizabeth Crigger Scokin and I couldn’t be more different. Although both the daughters of cotton farmers raised in the same bend of the Mississippi River, we chose different paths. Or maybe those paths chose us. Elizabeth traveled the road to high fashion; my pathway led to not-so-high finance with a recent detour to writing.

Elizabeth Crigger Scokin

While her closet is full of couture and 4-inch designer heels, shopping for me involves browsing my favorite bookstore wearing shoelace-less Chuck Taylor’s.

It takes all kinds, right? Some are destined for the runway. Some dream to write about it.

Elizabeth  grew up in Blytheville, Arkansas, a few miles north of my hometown. The streets are lined with old southern homes and evenly spaced shade trees, planted by forward thinking city planners decades ago. Overlapping branches form a natural arbor leading to the charming storefronts along Main Street. In the 1970s, downtown Blytheville offered a variety of retail and restaurants options. It’s where we did our back-to-school shopping. Plus, there was a new Sonic near the Interstate.

A trip to Blytheville often meant a quick visit with the Criggers, family friends who farmed land near ours. Their home was always warm and inviting, with a fabulous dish simmering on the stove or baking in the oven. Mrs. Crigger was a quintessential southern lady who effortlessly cooked a standing rib roast wearing a string of pearls. Mr. Crigger was a fixture in our den each night, stopping for a cocktail on the way home from work.
Elizabeth, their youngest daughter, was tall, thin, timeless, as if the best attributes from each parent were hand-selected for her.  A natural beauty.I was generic and indistinguishable.

She was haute. I was most definitely not.
While I was more at home at That Bookstore in Blytheville, Elizabeth was apparently more influenced by Westbrook’s Fashion. Influenced enough to take fashion to another level… On second thought, she likely skipped Blytheville retail altogether, driving straight to Memphis for her shopping needs or pulling together some fabulous look from her mother’s closet.
Since those days in Northeast Arkansas, Elizabeth Crigger Scokin’s dreams lead her to modeling in Dallas, and later to Nashville where she founded Haute Hostess Aprons, a luxury apron line inspired by her Grandmother Crigger’s vintage apron.

 

These aren’t your everyday ho-hum, chicken frying, run-of-the-mill aprons. These elegant designs caught the eye of Oprah… The fabrics, silky or sheer netting, are embellished with ribbons, flowing satin sashes and flouncy hems. Looking more cocktail dress than cooking apron, they pair perfectly with Manolo’s and a tray of martinis.Haute Hostess Aprons can be found at Stanley Korshak and Duo in Dallas and Bauman’s in Little Rock along with other high-end boutiques throughout the South. And as a bonus, each apron comes with an enchanting name such as the cheetah printed Georgette from the Glam It Up Collection or the Cornelia from the Give Me Sugar Christmas Collection adorned with jewel-toned bells. For this Fall’s diva tail-gate party or sorority tea, there is a Collegiate Collection in game day colors.

Elizabeth brings glamour into the kitchen.

A few weeks ago one of my friends was stumped on what to wear to a business conference, the appropriate attire noted on the invitation as Delta Casual. Who better to ask than Elizabeth, the Delta’s own fashionista? Her answer included “for night, a great gold or silver belt for twinkle…” I don’t own a gold or silver belt. I was thinking more boyfriend jeans… Oh my.

As I considered our differences, I began to recognize our commonality beyond farm and geography.  We share a love of cooking, drawing on yesterday’s family gatherings for inspiration. And we both love aprons.

My fun collection of aprons includes mostly vintage ones picked up at flea markets. A bit kitschy, they feel and smell of another time. I imagine the ladies who wore them fifty years ago, and the large family meals they prepared.

Two years ago, my mother added to my collection giving me the most amazing apron, perfect for my annual Halloween party. Bright orange netting with a billowy black satin sash, the apron is trimmed in rows of black and purple rickrack. It’s an original Haute Hostess design – Samantha from the Give Me Sugar Collection. It is the only designer item hanging in my closet. And I wear it with my pearls, of course. And jeans and boots…

Me and Samantha:)

Elizabeth and I share the same mantra – if you follow your passion, great things will happen. Even for two farmer’s daughters.

Spicy Cheese Wafers (Pat Crigger)

2 c extra sharp cheddar cheese 
2 sticks butter – melted 
2 c plain flour – sifted (I NEVER sift flour, but Pat Crigger probably did…) 
1 3/4 T tabasco 
dash of red pepper 
2 c rice crispies 

Mix together cheese and butter. In another bowl, mix flour, tabasco and red pepper. All the flour mixture to the cheese mixture and mix in the rice crispies. Refrigerate until slightly firm – firm enough to roll into balls. 

Roll into marble size balls. Arrange on an ungreased cookie sheet and mash with a fork. Cook for 13-15 minutes at 350 degrees. Perfect fall appetizer!

Spicy Cheese Wafers

 

talya

Musical Pairing:

Theme Song to Bewitched

“You can never be overdressed or overeducated.” 
― Oscar Wilde

 

Knock knock…

By

Who’s there?
Girl.
Girl who?
Girl Who Drives With Lead FOOT!
I managed to go thirty years without a ticket and now I seem to be supplying all the little speed traps in Oklahoma and Arkansas with donuts and coffee. Much like the popular adopt-a-highway program… Go ahead and put me down to sponsor Atoka and Augusta.

I collect tickets in each state like my mother collects shot glasses. 

I need to stay put.
To avoid the constant highway construction between Memphis and Little Rock, I thought I would be OhSoClever and take Highway 64 from Marion to Bald Knob. As if the names themselves don’t imply this, there’s not much between here and there. Earle, Parkin, Wynne, little towns with one stop light surrounded by cotton fields begging to be picked. Towns with old water towers begging to be climbed. Towns with empty roads begging to be drag-raced.

Towns where they grow giant junior high girl basketball players. We Keiser Yellow Jackets have first hand knowledge.

Towns with bored yet overly zealous cops.
When you take the back roads to avoid interstate construction delays and instead spend an extra thirty minutes on the side of a ditch enjoying a speeding ticket delay, the advantage quickly evaporates.
When you have Texas tags, the cop seems extra snarky. 

Lady, do you have any recent moving violations?
Ummm, maybe…. (probably not the best answer but I was smiling)
WHAT? (not smiling)
Well, I got a ticket last month in Oklahoma, but the officer said it wouldn’t go on my record.

(I was trying my best to show him I was wearing a Razorback t-shirt… IF you know what I mean.) 

Rudely, he never noticed. Too much fire spewing from his evil eyeballs.

Turns out the good sooners in Oklahoma didn’t report my ticket, which is probably why I’m not in the Augusta, Arkansas jailhouse trying to make bail. I quickly did the mental math and realized maybe I should slow down.
Later, on the other side of Texarkana, I came upon a fatal car accident with Care Flight, bodies strewn about the road, and an SUV in a tree. Perhaps my ticket was a good thing.
leadfoot
Musical Pairings:

Queen for a Day

By

Queen for a DayThere is nothing like a fake bejeweled crown to bring out the claws and money clips. The Halloween Carnival in Keiser, Arkansas was THE fall event of the school year. The anticipated crowning of the Halloween King and Queen rooted the dirty farmers out of the fields during cotton harvest, the most holiest of seasons. Devious PTA wannabe queen-mothers administered full blown campaigns for their prospective royal children.Mississippi County drama at its finest.
Each class had nominees selected by classmates, but only one couple could win. I know this may be  rather shocking in today’s every-single-kid-gets-a-trophy-no-kid-gets-left-behind world. But that’s how things worked back then. The winner was selected based on funds raised for the PTA. Pure greed. Cut throat, not popular vote.One winner, a bunch of losers and no pizza party afterward. Greatness.
In second grade, Craig Barnett and I were nominated as Halloween King and Queen. Our families were friends, our dads farmed side by side, often even vacationing together. So I knew Craig pretty well and was fairly certain he had cooties. He likely felt the same about me.

To raise money for our class, we sold chocolate chip cookies and caramel apples after school and peddled homemade cupcakes to the folks who attended the live auction near our home at Cottonwood Corner. This became our full time job for weeks and weeks. Halloween child slavery.

Keiser School

One of our biggest fundraisers was a rummage sale in downtown Keiser, hosted by our crazed mothers. Ms. Barnett, the quintessential schemer, could always pull a rabbit from her hat. Or from Clide’s hat (Craig’s dad). She lured in hordes of shoppers by hanging her mink stole and Clide’s expensive mohair jacket front and center. These luxury items were well overpriced so no one would actually buy them, but displayed perfectly to attract the nosy townsfolk. This was the talk of our little town, and Clide Barnett was none too happy. Especially since he was seen wearing the camel coat at the country club the weekend before.
 Queen and King of Halloween
My second grade class raised an impressive amount of money by 1969 standards. Craig and I were crowned Halloween King and Queen of Keiser Elementary School. Draped with a velvet robe and an armful of flowers, I still remember how those giant white mums smelled. The crown, constructed of white cardboard, silver glitter and Elmer’s glue, was the envy of all.I now realize after the money was tallied, the final selection was made based on whose parents and grandparents threw the most extra money in the PTA pot at the last minute. We both came from families of natural born gamblers, so we were auctioned off like prized cattle. A farmer frenzy.Forty + years later, Craig and I are still bonded by that coronation.

talya

Musical Pairings:
Queen – Tie Your Mother Down


 

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!