After a few weeks of experimenting with new techniques, creating new scents and even re-experiencing the simple pleasure of a measuring cup filled with beautifully colored melted soap base this afternoon, I decided I needed to rebatch some soaps that, for all intents and purposes, looked and felt like they’d glycerin sweated inside their wrapping. I shredded the bars and drizzled a little milk over them, same as I always do. I let it meditate for a few hours, covered, before placing the bowl in a warm oven for 2 hours. While that was going on, we put our daughter to bed, and I was nestled in on the sofa watching some shows I’d taped this past week.
Then I heard it. The subtle click of the oven as it controlled its own temperature. I looked at the clock on my laptop and realized, Oh, crap! I’d forgotten about my soap!!! On the plus side, I’d only gone over by about ten minutes. On the negative side, though, I was rebatching a much smaller amount than my usual three-pound batches. I opened the oven door and carefully pulled back the aluminum foil to discover my soap had volcanoed (though, thankfully, stayed in the bowl, so no oven mess) and it was the lovely brown of rich, luscious, high-grade honey. This soap started out cream-colored. It maintained its fragrance and doesn’t smell burnt, so I’m hoping it’s OK. I added a bit more tea tree oil to make up for any that may have gotten burned off in the oven and glumped it into my mould. It’s going to be OK, but I’ve never had a rebatch do this to me before!
*Sigh* One of my soap buds and I keep our chat window open all day, and I knew she’d had some bad soaping luck today, too. I told her there really should be a sign when it’s not a good day for soaping – one that comes before we start the process.