Vintage Southern Weddings at Magnolia HIll

Vintage Southern Weddings at Magnolia HIll
Southern Romantic Weddings and Receptions at Alda's Magnolia Hill • 5110 Stageoach Road, Little Rock, Arkansas | call: 501-690-2574

Sunday, May 31, 2015

Magnolia Hill Wedding Cookies





I don't have time too much anymore to make cookies, but this is one that I like to make because it is quick and easy.  These delicious wedding cookies are a blend of several recipes that have come through my door here at Magnolia Hill. They are a classic, and beautifully presented simply on a silver tray.  (I'll share my scone recipe with you soon too...it is quick and easy...but SO delicious)



Magnolia Hill Wedding Cookies
2 sticks butter, softened
1/2-cup confectioner’s sugar
1/2-teaspoon vanilla
1-teaspoon cinnamon
2 cups all purpose flour
1/8-teaspoon salt
2 cups finely chopped pecans
2 cups confectioners sugar for rolling
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. With electric mixer, beat butter and sugar.
Add vanilla. Combine flour, salt and nuts; stir into sugar mixture. Roll
dough in one-inch balls. Place on air bake cookie sheet. Bake 12- 15 minutes
until lightly browned. While they are still hot, roll in confectioner’s sugar.
Cool on a rack, the roll again to heavily coat in sugar.







Thursday, May 21, 2015

“And a Sixpence in Her Shoe”




In the past, you have probably heard the saying a time or two: “ Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a silver sixpence in her shoe.”  The poetic rhyme from the English and quoted in Victorian times seemed to catch on and is still often repeated today. Each item is usually applied to the wedding outfit rather than décor…something the bride would wear. The items serve as good luck tokens to a bride on her wedding day making her attire personal and sentimental.    

The “Something Old” symbolizes the bride’s family. Perhaps a strand of pearls or grandmothers broach fastened onto a hand held bouquet. It does not have to be from a female side…maybe a button from one of the brides fathers suits sewn into the hem of the gown.  

Megan wears her mothers and grandmothers pearls
A “Something New” symbolizes hope for an optimistic future with the marriage. The gown, the veil or even the rings, may be the “New”. “Something Borrowed” needs to come from a happily married woman thereby lending some of her own marital happiness and the item must be returned! The item reminds a bride that she can depend on that friend or family member. A “Something Blue” represents a symbol of faithfulness, love, purity and loyalty. It can be the bride’s garter or simply blue shoes underneath the gown. Christianity has long dressed the Virgin Mary in blue, so purity was associated with the color as well.

A sixpence was a coin used in the British Empire beginning in 1551. One sixpence represented six pennies and was last used in 1967. People used to be very superstitious in the middle ages and it was a good omen as a lucky charm. During the early 1600’s it was traditional for the Lord of the Manor to give his bride a piece of silver as a wedding gift. Worn in the left shoe, the tradition of the sixpence as a symbol of good luck continues today. Some families have passed down the same sixpence through the generations to continue the hope for good luck to future brides. It's also nice to seek out a sixpence minted in the year of your parents or grandparents wedding. If not a sixpence then a coin with a meaningful date should do!


Carlea lost her mother at a very young age. Here she wears her mother's wedding dress as she holds a picture of her mother wearing it on her wedding day.

Brides have been honoring the tradition of wearing an old, a new, a borrowed and a blue item during their wedding for centuries. The wearing of these items is supposed to share good luck but most important they express admiration for a few special people on a very special day. 


Thursday, May 7, 2015

Pickles in the Pantry- A Mother's Day Tribute




For as long as I can remember, my mother canned pickles.  Sweet pickles, bread-and-butter pickles, dill pickles  - rarely was a meal ever served at our house that didn't include a Mason jar of Mother's homemade pickles.


Not even the smallest step was forgotten when my mother made pickles.  Each jar was properly scalded and readied.  The cucumbers were grown from Mother's beloved kitchen garden, and after they had soaked adequately in the brine that filled an army of crocks and dishpans, they could be packed in jars one by one with Mother's careful hands and tightly sealed.  Each jar truly represented a labor of love.

One particular summer evening Mother and I were together in the kitchen, having just finished washing and drying the dinner dishes.  She was lifting the corner of a neatly placed dishtowel to take another peek at the dozen or so pickle jars cooling on the stove.   Her labor evidenced by a Band-Aid wrapped around a burned finger and an aggravating splinter stubbornly stuck in her hand, she awkwardly carried on her tasks.   At the same moment Mother was raising the dishtowel, the young man who had stolen my heart was sitting nervously in our living room, asking my daddy if he could marry me.

With Daddy's "yes" secured, a fall wedding was planned and the preparation began.  Mother spent endless hours sewing.  Bridal showers were given and thank-you notes written. my future in-laws invited us over for a celebration dinner where of course, Mother brought a prize jar of her pickles for the grand occasion. 

Over the years, my husband taught me to appreciate Mother's treat that I had so long taken for granted.  The homemade pickles were of a bygone era, and I never seemed to find the time or desire to make them myself.  But tuna fish sandwiches tasted better with Mama's pickles, my husband's grilled hamburgers weren't complete without them, and a proper Christmas dinner always included a crystal dish of the homemade pickles.

Right now I have a jar of Mother's pickles displayed in my pantry. I don't know when- or if- I will ever open them.  For every time I look at them, my saddened heart aches for my mother's company.  I think of the wonderful influence she had on my two sons when they were small, and how she wholeheartedly shared my joys and my sorrows.  I'd always felt comfort in knowing that I could pick up the telephone any time to ask her opinion on any subject, and she often kindly just listened to me as I rambled on.  She was dear friend, and I miss the gifts of time and energy she so generously gave.

My childhood gifts to her- a lopsided plaster hand print plate, a dimestore-bought bird figurine, a red rose vase- unfailing assumed a place of honor in Mother's living room.  She owned much nicer keepsakes to display and I never could quite understand why she insisted on displaying my clumsy gifts instead.  But I have a feeling that years from now, even as my mother is long gone, Mother will understand why a blue Mason jar of her homemade pickles still sits proudly in my pantry.