The Pencil Line

My pencil-line Eucalyptus Clove soap

If you are a soap connoisseur (and I am assuming that you are), then you may have seen or made a "pencil line" in a bar of soap.

I was new to all of this pencil line stuff until recently. I had seen it done, but had never tried it myself. What is a "pencil line"? See the thin brown line between the two layers of my soap? That's a pencil line. Such lines are made by dusting a layer of mica, cocoa powder, poppy seeds, ground spices, ground coffee, charcoal powder, etc., in between soap pours. When the bars are cut, the line runs through the width of the soap, looking like it was drawn with a pencil.

One of my mom's favorite soaps is scented with a blend of eucalyptus and clove essential oils. When my folks came to visit last month, I gave her the last of my Eucalyptus Clove soap. Knowing how much she likes it, I made some more since I was plumb out. I figured it would also be a good time to try out the pencil line.

Because this was my first time playing with this technique, I kept things simple and did not color my soap or try to do anything too artsy so I could focus just on the pencil line. I thought about using ground cloves for my line, but decided against it, worried that it might be too scratchy or possibly a skin irritant. So I used some Cappuccino mica instead.

I made my batch of soap as usual and brought it to a medium-thick trace. I poured about half of the soap into my mold and then scooped a bit of mica into a tea infuser. (Any small sieve will also work.) To make the pencil line, I gently tapped the side of the infuser while moving it over the soap, creating a thin layer of mica. (Take care not to make too thick of a layer - the soap can separate if too much mica or powder is used. You just want to barely cover the surface of the soap.)

Dusting soap layer with mica (l); soap with a thin layer of mica (r)

After tapping out a layer of mica, the sides of my mold were sullied. I wiped the inside of my liner with a paper towel to clean it up. Otherwise, I would have ended up with splotches of mica all over the outside of my soap when I poured the next layer.

Wiping mold clean

(You probably noticed that I'm not wearing my safety gloves in the photos above. I confess that I did take my gloves off to tap out the mica line and to wipe my mold clean - I needed precision for those parts of the task, and my gloves give me big clumsy oaf hands. After I was done wiping my liner clean, my gloves went right back on.)

By the time I was done fooling around with the mica, the remaining soap in my mixing bowl had set up quite a bit and was thick. The first layer was poured at a fairly heavy trace, so I felt confident it could support the next layer. I poured the second layer over the back of a spoon so that the soap wouldn't break through the first layer, disturbing my mica line.

Pouring the rest of the soap over the back of a spoon

When I was done pouring, I tapped the mold on the countertop a few times to work out any air bubbles, covered the top of the soap with cling wrap to prevent ash, and insulated the mold so the soap could gel.

A few days later, it was time to cut. Here's a tip for cutting soaps with a pencil line - turn the soap onto its side and then cut it. If you cut top-to-bottom, you'll drag your line through the soap. Cutting the soap on its side keeps the line nice and crisp. And also wipe your blade clean after every cut. (This tip also works if you've got something like calendula, oatmeal, seeds, jojoba beads or whatever sprinkled on top of your soap. Ever cut your soap and had the stuff on your decorated tops drag through the soap, making grooves? Try the side-cut to avoid that.)

Cutting proved trickier than I was expecting. My soap mold has handy-dandy cutting notches built into it so I can make standard cuts, but my soap was too tall to fit inside my mold on its side. Lining up my cutter with the grooves from high up was imprecise, and because my cutter has a thick wooden handle, it wouldn't cut all the way through the soap anyway.

So, I took the soap out of the mold so I could line it up with the edge of the mold and the cutting notches. I used my cutter to mark where to cut and then did my best to make a straight slice with a chef's knife. I am the worst at freehand cutting, but I did okay with my notches marked off. The bars aren't as uniform as I would like, but they're not bad.

And how thrilled was I that the soap didn't separate when I cut it? Very, that's how. I worried I was a bit heavy-handed with the mica in parts, but I guess I did all right.

The pencil line technique is definitely something I want to play with again. I want to experiment with bringing the line higher up the soap. And while I like how straight my line turned out, I rather enjoy some of the soaps I've seen with imperfect pencil lines - lines that slope a bit or have a couple of small ridges in them. Perhaps I need to work some texture into the soap layer before dusting the line to achieve that effect.

Do you like pencil lines? Ever made one? What are some of your tips? Do you like perfectly straight lines, or do you like lines with a bit more character?

The Dreaded Soda Ash

Gingersnap bars with heavy ash

If you make soap, you've probably had a few batches develop a whitish powdery layer on the tops. If you buy handmade soap, you may have seen this sort of thing. What is that stuff?

It's ... dah, dah, daaaah! ... soda ash.

What is soda ash? Conventional wisdom states that soda ash is sodium carbonate, which results from sodium hydroxide (lye) reacting with carbon dioxide in the air.

There may be other explanations for this phenomenon, though. In her book "The Soapmaker's Companion," Susan Miller Cavitch suggests that the powdery substance may just be dried soap. Glycerin, a natural by-product of the soapmaking process, attracts moisture from the air. Cavitch theorizes that the soap molecules closest to the surrounding air draw in moisture and then dry, forming tiny crystals. Her theory has been tested by a chemist, who could find no trace of sodium carbonate in the ash on her bars.

Beer soap with soda ash

Another idea is that soda ash could be minerals from the water in the soap collecting on the surface. This is one more reason to use distilled water for soapmaking, although I always use distilled water and still sometimes experience heavy ash. I have also experienced ash using beer in place of water.

Many factors can influence whether or not ash will form: temperature, batch size, fragrance or essential oils, humidity, soap density, or the soap recipe itself.

The origins of soda ash may be somewhat of a mystery, but one thing we can agree on is that it is harmless. (A thick, crumbly crust is another story - such a thing as that probably indicates lye-heavy soap.)

I think another thing that most of us soapmakers can agree on is that it is a total pain in the ash.

So, now that you kinda-sorta-not-really know where soda ash comes from, how can you prevent it from happening? I sometimes gently place a sheet of plastic cling wrap over the top of my soap after pouring it into the mold to prevent the surface from coming in contact with the air. This is fine if your tops are flat, but it doesn't work so well if you have textured tops. Another thing you can try is liberally spritzing the top of the soap with 91% rubbing alcohol after pouring.

Some folks don't mind ash. Soapmakers sometimes embrace it as part of the process and feel that it lends a rustic handmade charm to the soap. And soda ash tends to just wash off the first time anyone uses the soap, so it needn't be a huge concern to the soapmaker or the customer.

But it's just not pretty. And to the untrained eye, it can even look like mold or fungus (which it's totally not).

So let's say that you don't want soda ash. Let's also say that you get some despite your best efforts to avoid it. How can you get rid of soda ash once you get it?

This video by Soaping101 explains what soda ash is and offers up four methods for getting rid of it - alcohol, water, glycerin, and steam:



In the video, Soaping101 tries all four methods: spritzing the finished soap with 91% rubbing alcohol, dunking the soap in water, painting the soap with a bit of glycerin and colorant, and steaming the ash away. The conclusion was that while all methods removed some of the ash, steaming seemed to be the best bet.

Remember the photo of my Gingersnap soaps at the beginning of this post? I made that batch in September and it developed heavy soda ash. I had a couple of bars leftover and had never taken the time to try to remove the ash. The soap I make is just for me and my family, so I wasn't too worried about getting rid of it. A while back, someone on one of the soapmaking forums I belong to mentioned using steam to get rid of soda ash. Intrigued, I poked around the interwebs a bit more and found Soaping101's video. I liked the idea of using steam. Sure, you can slice the ash off, but then you mar the top (and waste a bit of soap). Rinsing with water can also mess up the tops. But a quick steaming would get into the nooks and crannies and it wouldn't interfere with the soap, which is great for textured tops, fancy peaks, or tops sprinkled with oats or seeds.

Since these Gingersnap bars had such heavy ash, I thought they would be good candidates for a blog feature and I decided to give the steaming method a try.

Holding bar over steam (l); After steaming (r)

All I did was simmer some water in a pot on my stove and then hold the soap over the steam. (The soap can get a little slippery, so I held it with a paper towel.) You could also use a tea kettle or a clothes steamer, whatever steam-errific thing you want. After a few seconds, the tops of the soaps looked a bit wet and the ash seemed to disappear. I let the bars dry on my curing rack for a few hours. Several days later, the soda ash was still gone.

(You may be wondering what the deal is with the yellowish parts in the photos above. I tried to swirl some gold-colored soap into the tops, but it didn't really work. I think I fiddled with it too much. I also wanted textured peaks, which didn't really work either. I still have the hardest time with that.)

So, I think in the future I will use the steam method to get rid of soda ash. It's quick, easy, and effective and it won't screw up the soaps.

Got any soda ash woes, my soapy friends? Does ash bother you as either a soapmaker or a customer? How do you like to get rid of it? Or do you prefer to just roll with the ash and keep it?

Oatmeal, Milk, and Honey Soap

My Oatmeal, Milk, and Honey soap

I have been wanting to make goat's milk soap for a while now, so a couple of weeks ago I decided to give it a whirl. I have used goat's milk soap made by other soapmakers, and I love the rich, creamy lather.

Usually I use distilled water for the liquid portion of my recipe, but many liquids can be used instead - beer, wine, tea, milks, fruit or vegetable juices and purees, etc. I substituted the entire water portion of my recipe with fresh goat's milk.

Honestly, I was a bit afraid to try goat's milk soapmaking before now because I had heard that it can be a temperamental process and requires more experience. After 15 months of making cold process soaps, I felt I had enough batches of regular soap under my belt to give goat's milk soap a try.

Making goat's milk soap does require some preparation in advance. Milks contain natural sugars, which can make the lye solution or the soap overheat. Ever curdled milk on your stovetop? Blech. Scorched milk-lye solution turns orange-brown and smells horrid; also, the lye can bubble up and volcano, which is not an ideal situation. Overheated soap can crack, separate into an oily mess, or become a lumpy disaster commonly referred to as "alien brains." To avoid overheating, it is best to freeze the goat's milk, add the lye very slowly, and keep your oils cool.

Frozen goat's milk

The day before I was planning to make my soap, I took out my scale and measured the amount of goat's milk I would need for the batch. I poured the measured milk into a plastic baggie so I could lay it flat in my freezer. (I froze the rest of the milk like this, too, since I pretty much stick to the same recipe and use the same amount of liquid each time.)

On soapmaking day, I took the milk out of the freezer and let it sit on the counter to thaw a bit while I set up my work space and got my oils and additives ready.

Because I was going to use an Oatmeal, Milk, and Honey fragrance oil, I decided to add honey and ground oats to my goat's milk soap, too. I bought a coffee grinder just for soapmaking, and I used it to grind up my oats. (The oats were the regular old-fashioned oats - quick-cooking oats can go mushy in soap. I used one Tablespoon of oats per pound of oils.) I dissolved my honey in a bit of warm distilled water to make it more fluid. (I used two teaspoons of honey total for two pounds of oils, mixed with one Tablespoon of warm distilled water.)

Grinding oats (1 Tbsp oats per pound of oils); ground oats and honey (1 tsp honey per pound of oils)

Once my oils were heated and combined and my additives were ready, I got to work on my milk-lye solution. I added my slushy/frozen goat's milk to my lye pitcher, breaking the frozen milk into chunks as I went, and then set the pitcher in an ice bath that was waiting for me in the sink. (Wondering why I make my ice bath in a dishpan instead of just using the sink basin? Well, the drain stopper for the sink has gone disappearin'. I've bought two replacement stoppers, neither of which worked out. I figured it was cheaper and easier to just get a dishpan and be done with it.) Then I gradually added my lye to the milk. I sprinkled some lye flakes on the milk, stirred for a bit, added some more lye, stirred for a bit, etc., until I had added all of my lye. Then I kept stirring the solution in the ice bath until the milk was melted and the lye was fully dissolved. I monitored the temperature and made sure that the lye solution never got hotter than 100 degrees Fahrenheit. The milk stayed a nice creamy yellow color.

Frozen goat's milk in lye pitcher (l); goat's milk-lye solution (r)

I was quite pleased with myself - my milk-lye had stayed cool and it hadn't changed color much. I did a temperature check on my oils; they were around 110 degrees, about 15 degrees warmer than I wanted them to be. So I took the milk-lye solution out of the ice bath and replaced it with my bowl of oils so I could cool them down faster.

That's when things got interesting.

During the few minutes I was stirring my oils in the ice bath, my milk-lye solution thickened up to a pudding-like consistency! I am kicking myself now for not taking a picture, but honestly I was so freaked out that all I could think to do was to hurry up and get it into the oils before it set up any further. I quickly added my fragrance oil and honey to my oils and then spooned/scraped my lye solution into the oils. After giving everything a buzz with the stick blender, the soap smoothed out and behaved beautifully, just like a perfect batch. After reaching a medium trace, I stirred my ground oats in with a spatula and then poured my soap into my lined mold.

Adding ground oats at trace (l); pouring soap into mold (r)

So what was the deal with the pudding-like lye solution? I consulted my friends at a couple of soap forums I belong to and the consensus seemed to be that the lye had begun saponifying the fats in the milk, which made it thicken up. I had never heard of this phenomenon before. No one had ever mentioned it in anything I had ever read, and none of the videos I watched on making goat's milk soap featured pudding lye. But after some discussion, it seems that this is fairly common when working with milks. Good to know for next time.

Gel phase! See how it's getting hot and gelatinous in the center?

I decided to let my goat's milk soap go through gel phase, which occurs when the soap heats up and becomes gelatinous first in the middle and then all the way out to the edges. Some soapmakers choose to avoid gel phase by popping the soap into the refrigerator or freezer after pouring it into the mold. Ungelled soaps tend to retain a lighter color, and the fridge keeps the soap from overheating. I usually gel my soaps, though - I like the texture of gelled soaps, and I'd rather have a darker gelled soap than a partially gelled soap. Partial gelling leaves a dark circle in the middle of the soap - totally harmless, but not pretty. I insulated with a single towel layer and checked the soap frequently to make sure it wasn't overheating. Once I saw that it had gelled completely to the edges, I removed the towel and the lid of the mold.

Cutting the soap

A few days later, I cut the soaps. Another thing about goat's milk soap is that it can sometimes smell a bit like ammonia for the first few days, especially if soaping temperatures are too warm. I really didn't notice too much of an ammonia smell. Maybe slightly funky, but nothing significant. When the ammonia smell does occur, it usually cures out within a few days.

The soaps are pretty dark, partly because they gelled and partly because of the fragrance oil, which discolors brown, and the honey.

I can't wait to try this one out! I think this soap will be extra nice with the added honey and oats. And the Oatmeal, Milk, and Honey fragrance is one of my favorites - slightly sweet, warm, and toasty. I still have to wait several weeks for the soap to cure before I can use it. Waiting is the hardest part of soapmaking!

I'm excited to make my own goat's milk soaps since all of the ones I've ever tried have been a real treat. The lather is always so soft, bubbly, and creamy, and it feels great on the skin. One of my favorites was a bar I picked up at a farmer's market that was made with goat's milk AND beer. Talk about great lather! I will definitely have to try that someday in my own soap kitchen.

Are you a fan of goat's milk soaps? Do you have a favorite goat's milk soap that you enjoy making or using? What is your favorite thing about goat's milk soaps? Any interesting stories or mishaps?

Tell me all the goaty details!

Honey Soap for My Honey

I used to think that my husband, Ken, wasn't too particular about his soap. I know that he likes the soap I make - he cast away his favorite shower gel in favor of my soap. He even bought a special plastic box so he can carry a bar around in his gym bag.

But usually when it comes time for him to select a new bar of soap, he doesn't seem too concerned about what the bar looks or smells like. He'll say, "I need some more soap for my gym bag." And I'll ask, "Which kind do you want?" And he'll answer, "I don't care, as long as it smells manly."

And I'll go into the soap room, come back with a few paper bags of manly-smelling soap, and prepare to tell him all about his choice of scents and the aesthetic qualities of each bar. After I present the first bar, he'll usually say, "Okay, I'll take that one." And I'll say, "Don't you want to see the rest?" To which he replies, "No, I like this one."

Maybe he loves all of my soaps so much that he knows that no matter which bar he ends up with, it will be extraordinary. Last time, he got the last bar of my honey soap.

And so a couple of weeks ago, I was surprised when our new-soap-for-the-gym-bag conversation went like this:

"I need some more soap for my gym bag."

"Which kind do you want?"

"I'll take another bar of the honey soap."

"That was the last bar. I don't have any more."

He turned to me with this worried look on his face and said, "What? You're going to make more, aren't you?"

My heart melted, I tells ya.

Slab mold lined with bubble wrap

So I told him, yes, I would make more honey soap. I was planning to make more anyway because I love it, too. And I decided I would make it sooner rather than later so my sweet hubby can have some for his gym bag.

The first thing I did for my honey soap was cut some bubble wrap to fit the bottom of my slab mold. Then I placed it textured-side up in my mold. (By the way, I love that my acrylic slab mold from Soap Making Resource doesn't have to be lined. Yippee!)

Next, I got my oils ready. For this batch, I used olive oil, coconut oil, sustainable palm oil, and shea butter. Once my oils were cool, I mixed in my fragrance oil, Honey (L'Occitane Type) by Elements Bath and Body. This fragrance is super-yummy and strong - I used it at .5oz./per pound of oils and that was plenty for me. There are a few fragrance oils that I want to drink, and this is certainly one of them.

Honey dissolved in warm water

You know how honey can be pretty sticky and viscous, and how it can leave streaks in your soap? Well, here's a little trick to working with honey: Dissolve it in a bit of warm water before adding it to your soap. I used 2 teaspoons of honey in this batch (which was made with 2 pounds of oils). After I measured out my distilled water, I pulled 1 tablespoon from my total water, placed it in a heat-safe bowl, and then warmed it briefly (very briefly, like for 8 seconds) in the microwave. Then I added my honey to the warm water and whisked it. I added my honey water to my cooled oils, gave it a buzz with the stick blender, and then added my lye solution.

Pouring soap (l); soap in the mold with dividers (r)

Because the sugars in honey can cause the soap to overheat, I kept my temperatures right around 100 degrees. Once I reached trace, I poured my soap into my bubble-wrap lined mold and put the dividers in.

I lightly insulated with a single towel layer and checked my soap often to make sure it wasn't overheating.

A few days later, I unmolded the soap. The bubble wrap pulled right away, leaving me with a cool honeycomb effect on the tops.

Now my honey just needs to wait a few weeks for the soap to cure and then he can have more honey soap for his gym bag! (I'm going to steal a few bars for myself, too. Shhh, don't tell him.)

So, tell me, my soapy friends, do you love honey in your soap, or do you looooooooooooove honey in your soap?


                                                                                

Clean Cotton Faux Funnel Pour Soap

Do you know about the funnel pour technique? If you are a soapmaker, you've probably heard of it, and you may have even tried it. As you might suspect, a funnel is involved. Soap is poured in alternating colors through the funnel into the mold, creating circular pools of color. The cut bars have cool ribbon-like bands throughout. The funnel is usually held in place above the center of the mold by chopsticks, spoon handles, or - as Bramble Berry's Anne-Marie cleverly uses in this Soap Queen TV video - an overturned cup with a hole in the bottom:



There is also something called the "faux funnel pour" technique. It is like the funnel pour, only no funnel is involved. But the idea is the same. Soap is poured in alternating colors one on top of the other, creating a similar pooling effect as with the funnel method.

I decided to take a stab at the faux funnel pour recently. For this soap, I used a Clean Cotton fragrance oil, which made me think of blue and white.

The goal was to have two distinctly different shades of blue to go along with the white, giving me three colors to pour. I used ultramarine blue oxide and titanium dioxide (mixed with a bit of glycerin) to make blue, light blue, and white colors. (The white looks kinda yellow because I mixed the titanium dioxide into my fragrance oil. It turned out pretty white in the finished soap, though.)

After I made the main soap batch (with the fragrance and titanium dioxide mixed in), I split the batch into three equal amounts. Then I colored one bowl of soap deep blue, another light blue, and left the third bowl white.

Then the fun part - the pouring! My soap got a little thick on me, so my pours weren't as fluid as I would have liked.

I started out with three pools, alternating deep blue, white, and light blue ...

And after a few pours like that, I made some new pools somewhere else ...

And soon my mold was filled and I finished it off with a pretty little swirl on top.

It is tough to wait a day or two before unmolding sometimes, especially if I'm trying a new or intricate technique. During the wait, I sometimes find myself thinking, "Wow, that's gonna look awesome!" Or "Gee, I sure hoped that worked." Or "Well, we can still use it even if it's super ugly." I usually feel both giddy and nervous when it comes time to cut.

Freshly unmolded soap (left); cutting the soap (right)

By the way, I just love my wooden soap mold with the built-in cutter from Soap Making Resource. I am dreadful at cutting soap by hand. Actually, I'm quite fantastic at cutting wonky, uneven bars by hand. Gifted, really. But dreadful at making straight, uniform cuts on my own. So I really like having the guidance. I just wish my crinkle cutter would fit in the slot ... then my life would be perfect.

Here are a few of the cut bars! I like how each bar is unique. I wish that there was more of a contrast between the two blues, but overall I'm pleased. Next time, I will choose more distinctive colors and try to keep my trace lighter so the soap will flow more fluidly. My technique was more like a "plop pour." (It was probably a mistake to use the stick blender to mix in the colorants - I'll try a whisk next time.) I think I'd also pour in a more side-to-side motion rather than choosing random spots, or just make one pool in the center of the mold and pour one color on top of another without moving around. But this batch was fun to make, that's faux sure!

And I do have a funnel - one day I'm going to have to try the non-faux funnel pour (or, as it is more commonly called, the funnel pour).

Anybody else loving the funnel pour, faux or not?

What the Heck is Soap?

So, you've seen a few of my soaps here and you've probably seen folks selling soap at craft shows or farmer's markets. Did you ever wonder just how exactly one makes soap from scratch at home? What does one need in order to make soap? And just what the heck is soap anyway?

In a nutshell, soap is made when oils are combined with sodium hydroxide (lye). That's really about it.

Let's expand a bit on that, though. Here's where I lay some chemistry on you. I promise it won't hurt much. To make soap, a chemical reaction has to take place between an acid (the fats and oils in a soap recipe) and a base (a lye solution of sodium hydroxide and water). This chemical reaction, which is called saponification, produces soap and glycerin, a natural by-product of soapmaking.

The chemical structure of a typical soap

The mention of lye can make some people uncomfortable, conjuring images of harsh soaps and irritated skin. The truth is, you cannot make soap without lye. It's just not possible. The good news is that when soap is properly made, there is no lye present in the final product. Great-grandma may have made some lye-heavy batches in her day, and too much lye can certainly make for an unpleasant bar. But soapmaking has come a long way in the past couple of decades and today's soapmakers use things like gram scales and lye calculators to make sure that they are using exactly the right amount of lye to oils.

See, each molecule of sodium hydroxide combines with a molecule of oil. During saponification, triglycerides in the oils break down into fatty acids and glycerols. The fatty acids react with the sodium ions, creating sodium compounds that are better known as soap. (So soap is chemically a salt. Cool, huh?) And where does all of that skin-loving glycerin that I mentioned earlier come from? The newly liberated glycerols react with the hydroxide ions to create glycerin.

Of course, you can't just dump some sodium hydroxide into some oils and get soap. There is a process.

Dig my look?

What does that process look like? First and foremost is safety. Lye is caustic and it must be handled with respect. A speck of lye in your eye will really ruin your day.

Here are the basic safety rules: Suit up with goggles, gloves, long sleeves, long pants, and close-toed shoes. Take care to not breathe the lye fumes. Standing back and running the exhaust fan is usually enough, but wear a painter's or dust mask if you want to. If you get lye or raw soap on yourself, rinse thoroughly with water and then rinse with vinegar. (I always have a spritzer of vinegar handy.) Protect your countertops and appliances, too. I take a tip from Dexter and cover everything with plastic drop cloths. I also lay down paper bags so I have a place to rest my soapy utensils.

A few words about equipment: I use either heavy-duty plastic (polypropylene is my plastic of choice - the kind with the recycling code with the "5" and "PP" on the bottom) or stainless steel for making soap. Never use aluminum, tin, copper, teflon, or any other metals, as they will react badly with lye. I also do not use glass - over time, lye can etch tiny cracks into the glass and one day it may decide to just shatter.

Kitchen prepped for soapmaking

Every soapmaker's process varies, but here's how I do things. I am a mise en place kind of soaper and I like everything out and measured before I get started. First I measure out my oils and butters for my batch size, which is usually two pounds of oils. (I measure everything in grams for greater accuracy.) My basic recipe typically includes olive oil, coconut oil, palm oil (from a sustainable source), shea butter, and/or avocado oil. I like to measure out my oils in separate bowls so I can put some back if I over-measure. Plus, I'm OCD and feel reassured to see four bowls of oils if I'm using four oils in my soap. I gently heat the oils in the microwave to melt them and to get them a bit warmer. When all of my oils are warm and melted, I combine them into one big bowl.

I also like to measure out my fragrance or essential oils and get any colorants ready. I usually use powdered oxides and micas and mix them with a bit of liquid glycerin to work out any clumps.

Next, I get my lye solution ready. As discussed, soap is made through a chemical reaction with oils and sodium hydroxide. You need some sort of liquid, though, to dissolve the sodium hydroxide and to act as a carrier, ensuring that all of the lye gets to the oils. Water (preferably distilled water) is usually used, but beer, wine, fruit juices, milks (goat's milk being a particular favorite), etc. can also be used in place of the water. I keep my liquids in the fridge so that the lye solution doesn't get too hot. To make the lye solution, I measure out my lye flakes into a cup, and then slowly sprinkle my lye flakes into my cold liquid, stirring as I go. NEVER ADD WATER TO LYE - ALWAYS ADD LYE TO WATER. The lye solution usually heats up to about 165 degrees F when I start with cold liquids, and I like the temperature to be more like 100-110 degrees before I combine it with the oils. So, I always make sure I have an ice bath waiting in the sink so I can rest my lye container in the frigid water, thus cooling it down faster. After about 10-15 minutes of stirring my lye solution in the ice bath, it's cool enough to add to my oils.

Adding lye flakes to water (inside a dishpan in case of any spills); stirring lye solution in ice bath

Some soapmakers wait until "trace" (something I'll explain in a moment) before adding fragrance or essential oils, but I usually go ahead and add my fragrance to the oils once they've cooled down to about 110 degrees or so. I do this for a couple of reasons. First, this way I won't forget to add it. Second, if my fragrance is finicky, the oils will give me a bit of a buffer against seizing, ricing, or acceleration.

Adding lye solution to oils; emulsifying lye and oils with stick blender

When both my oils and my lye solution are somewhere around 100-110 degrees, I slowly add the lye solution to the oils, stirring as I go. To help speed things along, I use a stick blender to mix and emulsify the soap batter.

Look closely. See the trails of soap on the surface? That's trace.

How do you know when to pour?

Soapmakers look for something called "trace." Trace occurs when the soap batter is completely emulsified and will not separate into a watery, oily mess. How do you test for trace? Dip a spoon or spatula into the soap and dribble a bit on top. If the dribbles leave a trail of soap that stays on the surface for a couple of moments before sinking back into the batter, that's trace. Trace can be light or heavy, depending on how long you mix it and what consistency you want. Lighter trace is good for swirling, heavier trace is good for layering.

Once I've reach my desired level of trace, I pour my soap into my mold. Some molds (like silicone, plastic or acrylic) don't need to be lined, but others (like wooden molds) do. To line a mold, I use freezer paper with the shiny side facing in.

Freshly poured soap in the mold

Once the soap is in the mold, I pop a lid on it and insulate it with a couple of towels. I like for my soaps to go through gel phase, which is a part of the saponification process in which the soap heats up and becomes rather gelatinous. After 24 hours, gel phase is complete and the soap can be cut. Soap doesn't have to go through gel phase to become soap. Some soapers purposely avoid gelling by popping the soap into the fridge or freezer because they like the color or texture of ungelled soaps better. Ungelled soap still saponifies, it just takes a few days longer.

After about 4-6 weeks of curing time, the soaps are ready to use!

And that's pretty much it! Now you know the basics of soapmaking. I hope it was interesting!

Until next time ...

Orange Patchouli Soap

I love patchouli. It smells musky, earthy, and dirty, like rich soil. Not everyone loves it. Some folks hate it. I remember burning patchouli incense when I was in high school and my mom complaining that I was "making the house smell like dead things."

Lovely, sweet, amazing-smelling dead things.

One day, when the price of patchouli essential oil comes down a bit (and by a bit I mean a lot), I will make a batch of soap scented with patchouli straight-up. Fortunately, a little patchouli goes a long way, and it's great in blends. And I have found that people who hate patchouli - like my mom, for example - like it in a blend.

I bought a bar of Orange Patchouli soap at a farmer's market a couple of years ago and loved it. A couple of weeks ago, I was browsing through my fragrance cabinet and squealed with delight when I found that I had full bottles of both orange and patchouli essential oils. So I made a batch of Orange Patchouli cold-process soap.

For this batch, I used Bramble Berry's 10x Orange and Patchouli essential oils at a 3:1 ratio. I love the 10-fold Orange essential oil because it sticks well in cold-process soap. Citrus essential oils are notoriously fleeting and often fade to almost nothing in soap. The 10-fold Orange is a concentrated essential oil, so it tends to be stronger and better survives the saponification process. This batch of soap smells mostly of orange with a bit of musky earthiness in the background.

Patchouli blends so well with so many other scents. I've tried lavender and patchouli together, too, and that is a wonderful combination. There are so many combos that I think would be fantastic - patchouli and lemongrass, grapefruit, geranium, peppermint, rosemary, sandalwood, or cedarwood ... the list goes on. Experimentation is a huge part of the fun in soapmaking!

How do you feel about patchouli? Love it, hate it? Do you like it by itself, or prefer it in a blend? What are some of your favorite patchouli blends?

Until next time ...