Yesterday was soap making day. I made a double batch of cold-process soap, and separated it out into three batches: lilac, peppermint, and a men’s soap called Sandalwood Bay.
My house smelled interesting. I’m not sure I’d recommend all three scents together.
Lye water. Fun stuff.
Blaine’s idea. When my stick blender had to go back to the company for repairs, he suggested I use this. I thought he might be onto something. After not reaching trace (a thick pudding-like consistency) for an hour and a half, (something that usually takes less than 15 minutes) I gave up, poured into molds, and thought I’d botched my first batch – and it had to be the one I’d documented with the camera. I’m not sure if it was using the stirrer or personal error, but I’m not so sure this was the best method.
Soap making seems like such a feminine, pioneer, industrious business. You know, this:
But when you use your husband’s drill with a paint stirrer instead, it feels more like this:
Instead of feminine and lovely, I felt like I was ought to conquer the soap. But the soap won, at least momentarily.
I was afraid to look this morning, fearful it hadn’t set up since it hadn’t reached trace.
But it did. Whew.
Cut it into bars, set it aside to dry for a month, and we’re in business.