Sweet Sangria Soap!

So, a few days ago, I decided that I wanted to make a soap with Bramble Berry's Sugar Plum Fairy fragrance oil, but I wanted to call the scent something else. I usually stick to a fragrance oil's given name, but I wanted something more seasonal, more summer-y. I sniffed and sniffed it, trying to figure out what I thought it smelled like.





This fragrance oil is very sweet - lots of fruit and sugar notes. I thought it smelled like fruit punch or a jellybean. I came up with "Fruit Punch Jellybean," but I wasn't sure if I was wild about that moniker. So I asked my husband to take a whiff and tell me what he thought it smelled like, and what I should call it. He said it smelled like wine.

Hmmm. Now I really didn't know what to think. Wine?

Well, I could see that. I mean, wine is pretty much fermented fruit, right?

So I took my dilemma to the awesome Wonder Turtle Soaps fans and asked them what I should do. And one of the fans (actually, it was my mom, who is a big fan not only of my soaps, but also of me) suggested that if I thought it smelled like fruit and sugar and Ken, my husband, thought it smelled like wine, then maybe I should go with Sangria?
 
Of course! What a brilliant suggestion! My brain was so stuck on candy that Sangria probably never would have entered my mind. But, basically, wine + fruit + sugar = Sangria. And what could be better for summertime?

The suggestion inspired me to create something way cooler than what I was orignally planning. I was going to do a solid beveled square of merlot sparkle mica-colored soap with the Sugar Plum Fairy fragrance oil.

Pretty, but ... yawn.

But this Sangria thing - my merlot sparkle mica would still be perfect, and I could do a cool chunk soap in my loaf mold, the chunks being the "fruit" floating in the "wine."

I pulled out my trusty silicone brownie bites pan and poured fragranced squares of gold, orange, and green for my soapy fruits - lemons, pineapples, oranges, tangerines, peaches, green apples, what have you. After they set up (which seemed to take only FOREVER), I cut the squares into chunks.

Next, I fragranced and poured some merlot-colored soap into my loaf mold, filling it just short of halfway. I quickly spritzed my chunk embeds with rubbing alcohol and dropped them into the merlot-colored soap in batches, using up half of my chunks. I gave the first layer a final spritz, acknowledged that it looked like some sort of weird stew, and let it harden up.

Then I repeated the step above - more merlot soap and the rest of the embeds.

And then it was time to wait.

Ugh. The waiting ...

The next day, I felt that mix of excitement and nervousness that I always feel before I unmold and slice a loaf soap. The soap cut beautifully and looked very much like I had hoped it would.

And it smells a lot like a Sangria - sweet, sugary, and fruity.

Great success! (And thanks again to the Wonder Turtle Soaps fans - I have so much fun with you guys, and you all keep me so inspired!)

Check out my Sweet Sangria soap at Wonder Turtle Soaps on Etsy and pick you up a bar or two or so of this yummy, summery soap!


And if you want to be a super-cool Wonder Turtle Soaps fan, too, check out my Facebook® Page!

I Want Some Patience and I Want It RIGHT NOW!

Remember the Seinfeld episode where George Costanza's father goes around screaming, "Serenity now!" at the top of his lungs? That's how I felt after slaving over a batch of layered soap bars a couple of days ago.

I was making my triple-layered Black Rose soaps. The first layer was soft pink, the second layer black, and the third layer was more soft pink.  I was working on a batch of six bars; four turned out great. Two were goners.

This is what the Black Rose soaps are supposed to look like. Here are two of the successful bars.

What happened?

Well, anyone who has done layered melt-and-pour projects before knows that temperature and timing are crucial. If you pour too soon, your soap may be too hot and could melt the layer beneath. Pour too late, and the layers might not adhere. Get caught between these two, and you might have a problem.

I got caught between the two.

The first two layers of each bar went fine. It was on the third layer where I got tripped up. See, I had allowed 5 ounces for each bar, making a total of 30 ounces. That's 10 ounces per layer: 20 ounces of pink, 10 ounces of black.

Ten ounces of pink was great for the first layer. Ten ounces of black worked great for the second layer. Ten ounces of pink for the third proved problematic.

Here's a photo for comparison. See how the nice soap on the top has a clean, straight line of black? And how the two soaps on the bottom have uneven melty black layers with tendrils of black running through the bottom pink layer? Blech.

The third layer of pink for bars 1-4 poured just fine. But by bars 5 and 6, the soap was starting to cool too much and it was getting tacky and gloppy. So I heated what was left in my measuring cup for a few seconds in the microwave.

I took its temperature. I usually pour my layers around 110-115 degrees so I don't melt the layer below it. But it's kinda difficult to get an accurate temperature read on so little soap in a big measuring glass. I dipped my spoon into the base and dripped some of the melted base on my finger. Warm, but not hot.

I wondered if it needed a little more time to cool. But when I stirred it, it felt like it was getting tacky again and a skin was forming on it.

And it was time to pour. The second layer had hardened up and really needed its third layer NOW.

I figured, "It's probably cool enough. It's getting thick and I need to pour."

So I poured it, slowly and gently.

And?

Yep, you guessed it ... I melted the black layer beneath on both bars.

Pools of black floated to the surface of the pink, and little wispy melt lines reached their dreadful tendril-y fingers upward.

Awesome.

What did I learn? Well, I think next time I will start out with more soap base than I need. I had figured that I needed 20 ounces of pink. If I could have a mulligan and do it over again, I would start with 24 ounces instead so maybe I'd still have enough liquidy soap to at least finish all of my pours even if an ounce or two of the soap gets tacky and sticks to the sides of the glass. It is always better to have too much soap prepared than to not have enough.

And I will be more patient. It's a bit heartbreaking to work on a batch and then ruin some of them (especially on the last pour) because you pressured yourself to pour RIGHT NOW.

Ah, well, four out of six ain't bad. And the four that did turn out were a great success, and I am very happy with them. Heck, I can always make more.

Psst ... you can get one of these Black Rose soaps at my Etsy shop. Don't worry - I'll send you one of the pretty ones!

And, hey, Mother's Day is tomorrow. I can give my mom the prettiest one of the reject bars as a gift. And she has to say it's beautiful because I made it and she's my mom, right?

Right?

(Have soaping tragedy stories of your own? Share them with us! Wally the Wonder Turtle and I would love to hear them!)