Recently, I got an email from Mary Ann Seaman—a soap maker from Oxford--who’d picked up on Lisa’s love of soap and offered to send her some. Not one to pass up a good essay topic—and free stuff--I invited her over to talk soap and show us how to make it.

But first, I’ve got to ask Lisa, "What’s the deal with all this soap?" (She has baskets of it, and last year when we cleaned out her condo we found hundreds—maybe thousands--of tiny slivers of saved soap.)

"You don’t understand," she starts, as we wait for Mary Ann’s arrival. "When I lived in England during the war, everything was rationed, including soap. I worried constantly that I’d run out; it was my biggest fear. But I found that the English were more interested in bacon than soap, and so I’d trade my bacon coupons for soap coupons, and I bought soap. Lots of it, and I’d hide it away in a drawer. From time to time I’d peak inside to make certain that no one had stolen them. I was like a miser running his hands through a chest of gold, only in my case, it was soap."

At which point there’s a knock at the door, and in comes Mary Ann, with a box of soap-making implements. "I love talking soap," she begins, as we make the introductions.

"You should be on one," Lisa quips, making a rapid no-soap assessment of the very attractive Mary Ann.

"I don’t think so," Mary Ann replies, while probably wondering what she’s just stepped into.

Lisa quickly shifts into interview mode. "How old are you?"

"Do I have to say . . . okay, 34."

"You look ten years younger," Lisa comments, which could be a good bit of advertising for a woman who makes her own soaps and cosmetics. "Are you doing it at all for profit?"

"No, I tried, but it’s hard to sell. People want all of the fancy colors and gels. The natural soap is a bit harder. For a while, I had a booth at Cape Cod Crafters, but the soap rarely covered the rent. My company was called The Soap Witch, which was a joke from when I was living in Danbury, and was getting tired of some out-of-control kids in the neighborhood. I decided that I’d move to Vermont and just make soap and stir my cauldron all day." She then adds, "I also found that when I was trying to make money at it, I didn’t enjoy it as much. Although, I still sell some soap, but mostly repeat customers and word of mouth."

"What kind of soap do you make?" Lisa asks.

"It’s all vegetable-oil based."

"So, it would be good for vegetarians, who wouldn’t want any animal fat," Lisa comments.

"That’s right. You can make it out of beef tallow and all of that; but I don’t. In fact, the origins of soap—or the legend of how it was discovered—came from Mount Sapo in Italy, where animals would be sacrificed. The villagers would wash their clothes in the river at the foot of the mountain, and when it rained a substance that was a mixture of animal fat and ash would come down the mountain; the river foamed up and the clothes came out cleaner.*"

"Fascinating," Lisa remarks. "How did you get started?"

"I bought a book on clearance at Barnes and Noble about four years ago; but I’ve always been interested in how people made things in the old days." She smiles, "The first batch I made never turned into soap. The problem was I tried to cheat. I bought a regular kitchen scale; but with soap making you have to get the oils precise to the eighth of an ounce, so the soap never solidified."

"Almond oil would be good," Lisa offers. "But it would be very expensive."

"It’s not bad," Mary Ann says, "It’s about $3.50 at the grocery store for eight ounces. There’s usually a shelf of specialty oils: walnut, grapeseed, sunflower and avocado, which is my favorite. You can find lots of wonderful oils at the New Morning Organic Market in Woodbury."

"Why is avocado your favorite?" I ask, finding it difficult to type and interview at the same time, but not having Lisa’s patience to tape and then transcribe.

"I love it! It’s a rich oil that’s full of Vitamin A, E, lecithin."

"So if you’re not selling, what’s the attraction?" I ask, not intending to sound quite so mercenary.

"I’m hooked on the stuff," she admits. "From making soap I’ve learned a lot. People think soap is bad for you, but most of what’s sold today is not soap; it’s petroleum-based detergent. FDA packaging law says that true soaps don’t have to list the ingredients on the label, but if it’s a detergent, which is considered a cosmetic, the ingredients must be listed. To my knowledge the only real commercial soaps available are Ivory and Dove."

"You just reminded me of something from medical school," I comment. "The only two things I remember from my dermatology rotation are, ‘tanned skin is damaged skin and always use a moisturizing soap.’ So what makes a soap moisturizing?"

"Certain oils," Mary Ann explains, "give extra moisturizing properties like almond, olive, apricot, and avocado."

"What makes it solid?" Lisa asks.

"It’s a chemical reaction between the lye, which is sodium hydroxide and water, and the oil. Together, they form crystals."

"Isn’t lye a very dangerous product where you have to watch out?" Lisa asks.

"Absolutely." Mary Ann says. "You can get chemical burns, and it’s very important to have appropriate protective gear. You want good rubber gloves and safety goggles. This is not an activity for children to do."

"There’s no substitute for the lye is there?" Lisa asks.

"Just potassium hydroxide, which is also caustic, and is typically used when making liquid soaps."

"What is your favorite soap to make?" Lisa asks.

"I’d have to say that lavender is my favorite."

"Do you use real herbs?"

"Yes, I’ve been switching over to essential oils. Clove is another favorite."

"Do you color your soaps?" Lisa asks.

"I won’t use artificial colors but I will use nettle for green, paprika for red, beet root powder for a blue/purple and pink clay for pink. But the pH level of the soap will turn things different colors."

"Do you wrap it when you give it as gifts?"

"Yes, I’ll wrap it in velum. In fact, giving soap as gifts is how I started going out with my fiancée."

"Really?" Lisa’s ears perk, as she pulls out her jewelers loop to examine Mary Ann’s canary diamond engagement ring. "So how did soap lead to an engagement?"

"He needed a present for his sister in law and had kind of procrastinated. So I brought in some home-made soap he could give her for Christmas; in exchange, he took me out to lunch. That’s how we started dating."

I look at Lisa knowing that she’s dying to make a pun.

"She didn’t say ‘no soap’ when he proposed." And then quickly adds, "In fact you soft-soaped him."

"You’re pretty quick with those," Mary Ann adds. "Would you like to see how you make soap?"

"Absolutely," Lisa says, as she propels herself out of the riser chair and we head to the kitchen for a demonstration in the art and science of making soap. 

For those interested in trying this out, I'd refer you to the book Making Soaps and Scents by Catherine Bardey*.   But please, in making soap observe all safety precautions, read the warnings on the bottle of lye, and remember that this is not a project for children. Lye is a caustic chemical that can cause serious burns.

* Mary Ann’s reference for this story, and where she gets many of her recipes, is the book: Making Soaps and Scents by Catherine Bardey. Black Dog and Leventhal Publishers 1999

P.S. This essay is dedicated to our editor, Gloria, who said, "I’m looking forward to a clean copy." I fear she may be the latest victim of Lisa’s infectious pun disorder; our condolences to her family.

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